A reprieve....

....of sorts. Saved, from another scientifically valid, but tediously boring, lecture, this time on the PC, VERY PC, topic of transgederism. Yes, another of those ---Ism concepts, and worse, -words. Saved, also, from the pseudo intellectual use of that annoying phrase, with the word digress in it. But only for a while.
No this time, it's on catching Maine lobsters, or more specifically, edible crabbs. On the later, these would be the more manly ones with big claws and thick meaty legs,, not those girly ones in the Caribbean, with mere inedible antennae. And there are at least two uplifting messages here. Or as it were, a twofer at a onesie price. Boyhood and adult alike
So, as a boy, we used to catch large crabs, we called blue or rock crabs. How?, you demand to know. Why with both stealth and cunning. But more importantly, is why?
Culturally, we ate little (expensive) meat. Instead, we got most of our non -plant protein from the sea, which was rendered into mouthwatering dishes, by the cantankerous old Portuguese grannies in the tenement block. And crabs were the one thing young boys could prepare by ourselves, away from home, in our neighborhood jungle boys' life encampments, illegally, using junkyard big boiling pots, water from a manipulated fire hydrant, all over a fire. Well, I'm here to say that such crab meat is much sweeter and tastier than that from any mere lobster But who knew? Yet, how to catch them?
Of course, all our ground and other fish were caught with worms, hook, line and sinker, so to speak. Three brothers, on an abandoned bridge head, and in an hour more than 10 pounds, WAY more, to haul back home as family heroes, on bicycles. But with the crabs, which tended to stalk about in tidal rivulets and pools, we used a more tactical approach. Remember those old liter clear glass milk bottles, the ones with the thick mouth rims, that we could borrow from the milkman's aluminium delivery boxes? Well, put a few chunks of stale bread into these, tie a dark long string around the top, fill with salt water and a trace of sea weed,, toss among the unsuspecting crabbies, forever fighting among themselves, and pull slowly tide out along the shallow sandy bottom, with long poled net in the sneaky other hand. Ha! The dummies never failed to follow what must have looked to all eight eyes like a moving easy meal. Nuff said.
So today, being between our own boats for bay fishing once more, Bravo and I came upon a few fisherperson types at the town landing. They were loading large lobster crates into a big truck, and lobster season being mostly over, except for the real brave alcoholics and their captains, oddly had crabs instead. Bigger blues, that they called Pinkies or Jonahs.
So, above story in mind, I asked how they had caught so many. By using Lobster traps, said they, bearded salts all, with coffin nails danging from each mouth!
You see, I always wondered what the side slots on the traps were for, as the larger ones were net funnels , for the dummy hungry lobsters to saunter in. Well, they said, we just block off the escape slots, insert bait, toss overboad, and bingo, 20 to 30 Kg's of crabs on hauling, next day. For my question, these kindly working men gave us a few big ones to take home. Yum Yum, for us and a neighbor, also from our childhood home town.
But the second story? Also not at all invented. While this was going on, the elderly ex boatyard owner, who used to haul and launch our larger sailboats, and who once stupidity (?drunkenly?) sent one of my masts all the way to a yard in vucking Wisconsin!, arrived on scene. Not exactly on speaking terms for a while, we were, but he made the first kindly friendly move by asking me what was up. Abandoning the defensive idiotic avoidant anger, installed upon us at trusting/tender ages, by homosexual priests, I responded in kind, with the above. Now we are on speaking terms, methinks.
Two steps forward, one in reverse. Can't make any of this up, folks