Young hairy hermit, on section of kelp stipe. I took photos, while I waited, of other tinies. He'd finished making his den, and crab-like, abandoned it to start digging somewhere else, out of sight. I found some time and got out the camera with the macro lens and the auxiliary flash, cleaned the glass and sat down to wait for him. Every time I passed, he was there, busy moving sand one grain at a time. Next, one turned up at the front of the tank, under a rock, excavating his miniature cave. I saw them again when I next cleaned the tank, hiding in a corner away from all the activity. I gently tipped the sand, with sand-grain crabs into the tank. Looked like crabs to me, but so, so tiny! The hand lens confirmed it. This way, rolling that way, falling back. In the wet sand left after I washed off a new batch of eelgrass, a couple of the sand grains were moving. Hermit crabs, even at rest, are never still they wave long antennae and bright flag-like antennules constantly. Snails slide along so slowly, then suddenly haul themselves forward with a jerk as they bring their body up to their foot. Sliding to the right, dragging sand slipping quickly back to the left, slightly downhill. In the aquarium, the crabs dig crab caves. Anemones caught off guard shrink inwards. Crabs scuttle sideways, feet first and last. #Anemona nombre cientifico full#In a tide pool full of seaweeds, a flash of twisty, splashing movement, gone in an instant, alerts us to the presence of a gunnel a quick, sharp, straight-line dash into the dark is probably a sculpin. The same goes for the tiny beasties, the flying, crawling, sliding critters. Even when we capture only a glimpse, under the trees, in the undergrowth, half behind the rocks, we can recognize them by their gait. They stand watching, pondering should we move out of the way? When they make up their minds, its as if the weight were almost too much for their legs.Įvery live thing has its own way of moving. His apparent slowness is deceptive he's gone behind the trees in a moment. Like a fat man in baggy trousers, not in any hurry, unconcerned, he plods down a trail. If she thinks I may be a danger, she leaves, bouncing straight-legged through the undergrowth.Ī bear doesn't bounce. A browsing deer, tiptoeing delicately through the thimbleberry patch, hears me coming and stiffens into immobility, a few inches taller already neck, ears, legs all suddenly stretched.
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