Crab Eggs and Acid Seas

Shaueel Persadee writes ocean parables for our times. These inhabitants of an undersea community are under threat from the world over which they have no control. Persadee is an education officer at the Pointe-a-Pierre Wildfowl Trust. He also writes a creative blog https://shaleics.wordpress.com/

Claude and Pinchino scuttled across the reef, their spiked legs gripping and pulling them across corals and through the sand. Both were carrying gifts, small tokens held carefully between their pincers, for their friend who was expecting. Shelly’s eggs were supposed to hatch today and her two best friends, who were also crabs, were now hurrying toward her home in order to give her gifts. Claude carried a shiny trinket in the shape of an “S” that had fallen into the ocean from a human invention called a car, and Pinchino carried a seaweed blanket. By the time they arrived at the home, underneath a large staghorn coral, both were blowing bubbles while regaining their breath.

“Ah boy!” Claude announced, “We here! We make it!”

“Ah think meh legs bout to give up on meh,” Pinchino said, setting down the blanket and then picking it up again.

“Is laziness have you so,” Claude jabbed, “but enough bout we. Leh we go see how Shelly doing with all dem chirren.”

“Yeah boy, for reals.”

They did the crab’s special knock, three taps on the entrance and two clicks of the pincers to announce their entry. For a hatch day, it was surprisingly empty, only a few relatives and other friends were gathered around. The shrimp choir had shown up to sing but they were silent for some reason, just floating around, black beady eyes looking sadder than when they were caught by fishing nets. Cautiously, both crabs made their way forward and set their gifts down in the sand at the corner, before looking ahead and seeing Shelly at the other end.

 

Coral Gardens, Buccoo Reef is home to many species of marine life including crustaceans and critters. Photo by Anjani Ganase

She was not the Shelly they knew in the slightest. Eyes droopy and red, pincers picking pointlessly through the sand; and around her eight strong legs were orange shells, all cracked. As they approached her, the two crabs exchanged looks and continuously scanned for any signs of baby crabs scuttling about or even swimming through the water. Claude stood in front of her first and tried to whisper, but he was naturally loud, so it didn’t work very well.

“Aye, Shelly, Shellz, what’s up gyal? Where the babies? Why nobody singing?”

She did not respond or shift her gaze from the ground.

“Oye, sisthren! Wha gwan?”

“Stop it boy, yuh cyah see that she ain’t looking arite? Something probably attack she. Maybe one of them eels tried to latch on to she and she chirren,” Pinchino offered, and he turned to the shrimp choir.

“Allyuh see anything? I seeing at least thirty eyes here, somebody must have seen something!”

None of the shrimps wanted to be the one to say anything, and they were all hesitant and also afraid of the crab and his pincers. Then a meek soprano floated up from her row and sang, since shrimp only speak in verse:

We saw nothing when we came

            All has remained the same

            All except those little balls

            That fell off from the walls

            They seem to be empty

            So we called the doctor plenty.

           

Before the rest of the song could continue, the special knock was heard and in strolled the lobster doctor, Doctor Cracker. He was easily the biggest one there and the crabs had to make room as he marched straight toward Shelly, doing his checks without even speaking to her. Inspecting the eggs one at a time, he nodded to himself and turned, surprisingly not bumping into anyone as he did.

           

“Who here am I addressing concerning Miss Shelly?”

“Ah guess yuh could talk to me,” Pinchino said after no one else volunteered.

“I regret to inform you that Miss Shelly’s eggs have all met with infant mortality, and it has placed her in a state of grief-induced shock.”

           

The simple crustacean folk stared blankly.

“All her children are dead.”

Some fainted, others gasped, and the shrimp choir broke into a uniform cry.

“How that happen, Doc? Shelly was a healthy gyal!” Claude protested.

           

“I do not doubt for a second her healthy lifestyle sir, but the problem is not with her or with any other organism from the reef. The problem lies in something known as global warming and its effects on the ocean are very vast. Apart from the heating implied with the word ‘warming’, there’s also increased carbon dioxide in the water which makes it harder to breathe and the worst of all for us crustaceans, ocean acidification.”

“Wait wait bredda man, you telling me the seawater I living in turning into acid?”

“In a way, yes.”

“And how you know this for sure Doctor?” Pinchino asked.

“The visitors to the reef bring news from around the world, and being a doctor, I am privy to some very important information. Put that aside and simply go for a run or a swim, don’t you feel how difficult it is now? So difficult to breathe and your joints feel weaker than ever.”

Pinchino and Claude came to a slow realization of what was happening. They both asked the same question.

“So, what we could do to stop this global warming thing?”

“That’s the thing. It’s not up to us. It’s up to them,” he said, pointing upward, “if the humans don’t change their ways and start paying attention to the environment…there won’t be an environment.”

Doctor Cracker sighed and walked away, and as he did, Pinchino took his seaweed blanket and carried it to Shelly, and covered her with it. As the blanket touched her, she leaned forward and her face hit the ground. Her body lay in the middle of all her eggs, and the blanket slowly fell to cover them all.

“Gentlemen,” the doctor spoke, “this coral reef is becoming a coral cemetery.”

(Editor’s note: As the ocean becomes more acidic, it dissolves calcium carbonate which is the stuff of coral reefs, seashells, crab shells…)