Starvation

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OK, choose my shell.  The little crab in that huge, to him, shell must be starving to death, literally.  I'll chop some food, I have some frozen calamari, and stuff the shell, and take it to the crab.  I am silly, yes, I know.






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OK, there's the bit of reef, a bommie the Australians would call it.

Garden Eels down in front, looking like bits of waving wire.  They face into the gentle current, catching bites of food floating by.  I don't know what.  Eelie hamburgers.  ha




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I turn up the big shell that the crab is in, an ancient Milk Conch that passed away.  The conch shell must weigh half a kilo, a pound.  The crab couldn't weigh 5% of that.

I set the Whelk shell, stuffed with the food, so that Crabbie could go get a meal, and hopefully come to his senses and move in to the smaller shell that he could move around in.

The fish are saying, "Food! Food? Food!  We smell it, where is it?  Food!  Food??"
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Tug, I'd decided to move the show to the coral, out of the open sand.  "Oh, no you don't!" said Crabbie, he was really strong, holding his bounty.

His claw and legs should be a dark purplish brown, with white speckles, but digging in the sand, seeking the food that wasn't there, and maybe even trying to move that gigantic shell, he's worn off his colors.  Skin?

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Nestled in a crevas.  But then much too visible, I don't want a strange Bubbling Monster to do any shell collecting!  And lurking around there was a Graysby fish, maybe big enough to steal the Whelk shell and Crabbie's food.






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OK, there.  I hope to go back this afternoon, and find the conch shell sitting there, and the little whelk shell gone away, taken by Crabbie happily into the sunset to live happily ever after.

If not?  Groan, I'll have some more food.  Owell, silly me.  This is how I play.  No casinos or card games for me.
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OK!  Thanks for stopping by!
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