The Lobster Nursery, In Which We Are Pinched

The mysteries of the ocean never cease to amaze me.

A small, probably year-old lobster, plucked from his hidey-hole.  Don't worry, he went back after this pic.

Last week while I was home, I tagged along with some colleagues who were out collecting Crepidula fornicata and Crepidula plana -- slipper shells.  These mollusks have a very interesting life history -- they live in piles.  The one on the bottom -- the biggest one -- is a female.  The ones on the top -- the littlest ones -- are males.  The ones in the middle could go either way.  They can change sex from male to female, being protandrous hermaphrodites; not an uncommon thing in the animal world (nor is going the other way, from female to male).  The females release pheromones that prohibit the males above from changing sex; maintaining a neat little reproductive stack.

We had a good idea of where we could find Crepidula that weren't attached to big boulders; that would make collecting them difficult since they suck down to rocks and are hard to remove without killing them.  So we needed them on small cobbles; easy to collect and transport.  We hit the jackpot; easily collecting the number we needed in only about a half hour.  (Note; we have a special collecting permit from the State of Maine, and can only collect specimens for research or teaching purposes.  Don't collect organisms from the ocean without one; you can get into serious trouble with the law, and populations can be severely impacted if we all just take things for fun.)

Collecting under a perfect summer sky.

Sorting through the organisms.

Crepidula fornicata.  Notice the smaller one (the male) stacked on the larger one (the female).

Our job was done, but the tide was still going out, the sun shining.  A perfect opportunity to do some poking around in the many tidepools nearby.  We had some suspicions there would be a lot of interesting things in them.  Our first hint?  This very intriguing rock, with plenty of sand newly pushed out from under it:

What lurks under the rock?

What could be under there?  One way to find out!

Do you see what I see?  Look carefully!

Just as I suspected!  A small lobster!

The tidepools at this spot were chock full of juvenile lobsters.  Almost every rock we turned over had a small lobster hiding under it -- which would grouchily raise its claws at us, or walk away in disgust.  Some of the pools held lobsters simply walking around, seemingly unconcerned by our presence.

Lobsters have a fascinating reproductive cycle.  It starts when the female molts.  She finds a dominant male, then molts in his presence.  Given their reputation for ravenous cannibalism, this might seem surprising.  But the male can only give her his sperm packet while she's soft, so he has to be a tender lover, not a ferocious fighter, in this situation.  After she molts, he protects her for a few days, then she wanders off to live her own life (often being replaced by another female who's ready to grow a new shell).  She holds onto that sperm packet until the time is right, then fertilizes her eggs, which she holds on her "swimmerets" -- under what we call the tail of the lobster -- until they mature and are released as plankton during the warm months.

Planktonic lobsters go through three stages, which can last from a month to three months in total. During this time they hunt (being ravenous just like their parents), molt and grow, and are swept along by currents. When they reach the third stage, they start to look like tiny lobsters, can swim very well, and begin to look for a place to settle.  They start to avoid light, therefore swim away from the surface.  They make frequent forays to the bottom, to see if currents have carried them to a suitable nursery.  What does a baby lobster look for in a home?  The absolute best habitat for a tiny lobster, who's vulnerable to predation by fish, crabs, and what have you, is a shallow cobble-strewn area.  One with lots of nooks and crannies to burrow into. They'll settle for a salt marsh bank, or eel grass bed where they can dig a hole, but these aren't the best homes. Once they find a good spot, they settle, molt, and with that, aren't plankton anymore.  Tiny benthic lobsters can actually filter feed in a way -- they create a current and eat plankton that get carried into their burrows.  Eventually they grow large enough to be safe(r), and emerge from their hiding places to forage.

This juvenile stage might last a year, after which they move away from shore and act more like adult lobsters. So it's not unusual to find baby lobsters near shore, under cobbles.  Often, the east side of islands and peninsulas are great nurseries, because the prevailing currents carry lobsters to these areas, where they run into land and it's the end of the line.  For example, the east side of Damariscove Island is known to house many baby lobsters, but the west side is a desert.  There are over 100 hot spots known, and monitored, in the state of Maine.  The settlement of lobsters is a big deal up here:  big lobsters come from little lobsters, so knowing how they reproduce and grow is important.  There are plenty of interesting questions being worked on about lobster reproduction right now -- like does a hot spot for babies mean the area is a hot-spot for adults?

Just out for a little stroll.

Barnacles in a tidepool.  I love how they settle in the cracks of the rock!

Maine, the way life should be.

Now you might be saying "where is this magical place where baby lobsters are a dime a dozen?"  Well, for now, I think I'll keep it to myself.  Baby lobsters don't need a ton of people turning over their rocks every nice day.  But I'll let you in on a spot where you're likely to find them, if you promise to be very careful about turning over rocks, to put the rocks back without crushing anything, and if you don't take any lobsters home (you can't do it; it's illegal):  drive down to Land's End in Harpswell (all the way down Bailey Island).  You might just get lucky.

But if you do see a baby lobster, a word of caution.  They pinch.  They really, really pinch hard.  How might I know?  Well, I'm not above embarrassing myself.  For your entertainment, Janet catches a baby lobster (don't laugh too hard):

And he just kept holding on and pinching . . . .  He won.  He was small but potent.

Want to know more about lobsters?  I recommend The Secret Life of Lobsters by Trevor Corson. Check it out of your library, or find it at your local bookstore.  It's a great read.  Just watch those pinchy parts.

Lobsters and football

I'm embarrassed to say it, but Damon and I are superstitious.  Not about the small things, like seven years of bad luck, but about things that are Really Important.  Things like the Patriots in the playoffs. And things that work -- eating New England seafood during playoff games.

Chowder used to be our standby playoff food.  Nothing is more New England than clams and potatoes and cream.  Unfortunately, our arteries have grown a bit old for chowder (which must, must be made with cream).  So this past weekend, we prepared for the playoff game by stopping at Harbor Fish Market and picking up some lobsters (little guys and gals).  And as kick off approached, we fired up the lobster cooker and tossed those bad boys in.

I'm a lefty!                                            I'm a righty!

The folks at Harbor Fish were kind enough to give me lobsters that were both lefties and righties.  Lobsters have two types of claws:  crushers, which are full of slow-twitch muscle, not fast but very strong with great endurance, and siezers (or pinchers), which are full of fast twitch muscle, fast without the endurance.  Together they're the perfect combination for catching and eating prey.  Lobster larvae are ambidextrous but juveniles develop a difference in claws soon after they settle to the benthos.

Damon is the lobster chef in our family.  (Dory is skeptical of them.)  He is particular about how they're cooked.  Never boil them. Steam them, best accomplished by filling your pot with just over an inch of water and using a steamer or something else in the pot to hold the lobsters over the water. When the water is really boiling, toss in your lobsters (we leave the bands on) and cover it well. Watch the pot; otherwise it boils over and makes a smelly mess. Leave your lobsters in the pot for 16-18 minutes (depending on how many, how large they are, and whether they're soft-shell or hard-shell).  The real test of whether they're done is their color -- they should be bright red, no brown or green showing.  When done, eat with a bowl of the hot water to rinse off the tamale (the green stuff on the tail), and if your cardiologist isn't looking, some melted butter (but really, lobster doesn't need it).  Serve with beer or Vinho Verde (my very, very favorite wine).

A male.  The very top pair of swimmerets are larger than on females.

The before photo.  Their antennae have been removed (before we got them).

So, does the New England food thing work?  Well, we did win.  And we did score a touchdown the moment we cracked our lobsters open.  Maybe it was a highly skilled coach and quarterback.  Maybe they finally found their rhythm.  Maybe it was just their night to win.  But maybe it was the lobster. Just in case, we're going to have to keep up our seafood habits.  It's our responsibility, isn't it?  (On the menu next week, for the AFC Championship versus Manning and the Broncos:  New England scallop sliders with guacamole or bahn mi marinated veggies.  We're going to need all the help we can get!)

After.  On it's way to ensuring the Patriots' victory.  Like a pagan sacrifice to the gods to bring rain.

Reading and writing

I've been using the wood stove a lot this week, when the dog will share it with me.  With school out and some serious ice and snow glazing the roads, it's a great time to curl up with a good book.  Plus we're about to head off for a quick vacation, sailing in Florida, and I'm hoping there'll be some time for reading in between the hoisting sail and sipping rum-drinks under the stars.  Here are a few books I'm enjoying right now:

Love, sex, and scientific mysteries.  Robo-lobsters.  Barbie lobsters.  What more can a gal ask for?  The Secret Life of Lobsters has it all.  I'm most of the way done with this book, which tells the story of lobster biology and management from several points of view -- both from fishermen on Little Cranberry Island, and from various scientists involved in the early stages of understanding the biology of our crustacean friend.  Anyone who loves lobster, or is interested in the marine heritage of Maine, will enjoy this book.

Connie Small was born in 1901 and grew up in Lubec, wh ich at the time was full of fish-processing plants and fishermen.  Her father worked for the lifesaving service, and many of her relatives were ship captains and lighthouse keepers.  When she married Elson Small in 1920, they went off for a life keeping lights up and down the coast of Maine.  In The Lighthouse Keeper's Wife, Connie Small recounts their life on remote islands, working against the elements to light the lamp each night.  The book is full of anecdotes, but it memorializes a profession long gone today, often with delicious philosophical reflections.

On Seguin Island, Connie Small described the moment in the evening when all the keepers up and down the coast lit their lamps (taking pride in waiting until just the right moment, not lighting them a minute too soon):  I loved being in the tower at sunset.  When I took the lens cover off and the light flashed, I could begin counting from Portland to Pemaquid as almost simultaneously the lights came on -- thirteen of them. It was like saying "hello," hello," "hello," all down the coast.  This little book reveals a world few knew even when all the lights up and down the coast were manned, and I think modern readers will enjoy looking into this rare aspect of our state's history.

Maine is the only state with an elver fishery, for better or for worse.  I'm one to think it should be better managed, as right now it seems to be the Wild West.  (Cold River Cash.  Need I say more?)  But what do I know?

Soon I'll know a lot more.  Eels have crazy biology -- eggs are laid far out to sea, babies are carried along the Gulf Stream for up to a year, and then they swim upriver and transform into eels.  They live adult lives in fresh water, then head back out to the sea to spawn, then die.  I'm hoping this will be a fun read with as much detail as The Secret Life of Lobsters.  Then maybe I'll have the heart to watch the Animal Planet series.  But probably not.

I just picked this little book up from my favorite local bookstore, Gulf of Maine Books in Brunswick. I'm a total sucker for guidebooks, and this one looks promising.  I've already learned quite a lot about chickadees -- did you know they stockpile seeds in summer, hiding them in cracks in tree bark and other hidey-holes, and eating them in winter?  And they can "hibernate" for shore periods of time when it gets really cold?

This book highlights terrific natural spots in my area, and includes several I've put on my "must visit" list.

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Sitting at an oceanfront bar in Florida, enjoying a fascinating article . . . .

Besides all the reading, I've been tooting my own horn.  This month my piece about operating sailboats around whales ("Whale Etiquette") came out in Cruising World magazine.  Just a small article, but I'm still really pleased about it!  Toot!  Toot!