As a child my family vacationed at the rustic and serene island resort area of Hilton head Island, South Carolina. One of my fondest childhood memories was crabbing at the concrete seawall surrounding the quaint village of Harbor Town.
Fishing for crabs is a simple sport and is quite rewarding. The hoped-for result is a bucket full of crabs and ultimately a sweet and succulent meal. Each feisty little crab seems like a precious treasure on the end of a string.
Early on I discovered crabs enjoy eating chicken as much as I did, so my brother and I would stop at the grocery store for some pieces of fresh chicken before heading off to the seawall. After tying a morsel of chicken to the end of the string, we would toss it out into the water and wait a few minutes, hoping the crabs would take the bait. Slowly we would pull the string in hand over hand until the chicken would reach the surface.
If the line felt heavier than when we threw it out, we know we probably caught something, hopefully a blue crab! As the chicken neared the surface I would hold a net attached to long aluminum pole with one hand, anticipating the crab letting go of the chicken when it reached the surface. And there it was, my first blue crab of the evening! I quickly place the net under the crab and pulled up on the string. Immediately the crab let go of the chicken and fell into my trap.
Swinging the net up onto the shore, I would flip it over on top of the bucket so the crab fell into the water-filled waiting room below. Sometimes the crab would fight and not let go of the net, and I had to carefully remove the netting from it’s claws, attempting not to slip and have one of the powerful claws attach to one of my fingers. After some experience crabbing I discovered a method of holding their sandpaper-like shell so they couldn’t turn their claws and bite me. Sometimes I had to do this, but always feared them slipping because they where wet and sometimes had mud or sand on them, making my grip precarious.
After the first crab fell to the bottom of the bucket, it would struggle and open its claws showing its displeasure with me, almost as if it knew it was about to become my dinner. The sound it made scrapping along the side of the bucket reminds me of a horror movie where this big mean man with claws on his hands would attack unsuspecting kids like me.
Inspired by my first catch, I’d continue on, becoming more excited with every crab I pulled out of the ocean and tossed into my bucket. Between my brother and me, it wasn’t long before we’d have a few dozen crabs – enough for a hearty meal. As a tribute to the crabs that got away I would toss the remaining chicken into the ocean, wishing the crabs well. I’d tell them to have an enjoyable feast because tomorrow I’d be back and they might not be spared.
On the way back from one of these crabbing ventures, carrying a particularly full bucket of crabs, something pretty astounding came to my young mind. When only one crab was in the bucket it would struggle to get out, clawing and scrapping at the sides. On this night when the bucket was full and a crab tried to get escape, the other crabs would pull it back down. It was as if the newly formed colony of crabs decided that any renegade crabs that tried to escape should be detained and forced to suffer the same fate as the rest of the group.
Now of course, these are crabs we’re talking about here and I’m not naive enough to expect them to realize that if they were to band together in support most of them could climb right out of the bucket. I can’t tell you how many times since my early-in-life “crab revelation” I’ve thought about that bucket of crabs.
When alone and not scrutinized by others, I would take risks toward a goal because I had no fear of failing. Unfortunately we are often surrounded by people who aren’t supportive of our goals, and may make negative comments or even create obstacles to our success. Because of these negative influences, we’re likely to get tangled in the bottom of the bucket, and lose our drive to rise to the top.
After fishing for many days I spotted a lone crab fighting his way out of the bucket. Breaking free of the other crabs, he scaled the side of the bucket and pull his way up and over the rim. He gleefully (I swear I saw him smile) scurried back to the ocean, no longer destined for my dinner platter.
That crab has long held a spot on my personal list of unlikely heroes, as he was exceptional in his drive to separate himself from the dismal fate of his community. He knew somehow, that he had a choice, in spite of what the group had to say, and knew as well, that he was destined for more. As people, the pressures of our lives and our peers may be more complicated than those faced by my crustacean friend, but his example is valuable, nonetheless. Similar to the way this one crab left the others behind, it takes a truly unique person to leave the crowd and excel in life.
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Originally Posted at Serendipitous Journey
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