A Secret Soothing Beach By Walt Brown At Isnare.com Ezine Articles

Once upon a time on the coast nearby there was/is a beach. It is a beautiful beach on a bay. A river flows by it every day into the bay. The sand is warm. The sun is bright. The water warmed by eddies from the Gulf Stream many miles out to sea. The sand is the kind you love to stick your toes in.

The kids loved it when the tide went out leaving many shallow pools where the minnows got trapped waiting patiently for the tide to come back in. As the kids walked along the sand at low tide little geysers would erupt and sprinkle them gently with their liquid. The kids found out that below the sand some nautical creatures lurked. So when a geyser erupted they began to dig and lo and behold they discovered that the geyser producer was a clam. It had a long neck that quickly retracted when they were discovered in their sandy hideaway. Some kids took the clams and put them in a plastic pail and filled it with seawater so the clam would not die. They knew that everyone had said that the clams were good to eat.

Delicious mollusks morsels were good fried or steamed.

As the tide came in it brought some other bay creatures. Hermit crabs encased in their purloined shells, scrabbled along the bottom looking for food. The kids would pick them up and the tiny crab would vanish into his stolen lair leaving just his claw protruding as a warning not to mess with him or her.

Then there is the dreaded blue crab with its mighty pinch. They learned to attack him from the rear. And quickly grab the back of his carapace and dump him into the bucket before he got any ideas.

There were hardly any stones on the beach. Just some breakwaters that reached out into the bay. The pebbles were tiny and hardly hurt to walk on them and they only occurred in narrow bands where the tidal flow had distributed them along the beach from one end to the other. But most kids protected their feet with water shoes.

There were lots of shells in the sand. Dead shells from all sorts of mollusks. The big dead quahog shells usually were not a problem. It is the soft shell mollusks that were bad because they broke easily and had jagged edges that could cut and imbed them selves in unprotected little feet.

Of course, there is always the little macho man who refused to abide by the admonitions of his elders and his feet got pretty tough over the course of the summer. What with his running through the marsh along the banks of the creek looking for Fiddler crabs. They scurry for their holes when you get too close, but if you hunker down for a few minutes, they begin to emerge. Or you can pick a hole in the sand and dig down a foot or so until you find the little sucker tucked away in the bottom of his mine.

Yes, there's lots to do on the secret beach and it's so much fun that I have been sworn to silence as to its whereabouts.

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