It has been a while since I’ve spent any time in the intertidal. There isn’t really any reason for this, other than a reluctance to venture out in the afternoon wind and have to fight encroaching darkness. There’s also the fact that I much prefer the morning low tides, which we’ll have in the spring. However, this past weekend we had some spectacular afternoon lows, and although I was working on Friday and couldn’t spare the time to venture out, I went out on Saturday and Sunday.
Saturday was a special day, because I had guests with me. A woman named Marla, who reads this blog, contacted me back in the fall. She said she wanted to do something special for her husband’s birthday, and asked if I’d be willing to take them to the intertidal. It turns out that Andrew’s birthday was around this past weekend, and he had family coming out from Chicago to celebrate. They picked the perfect weekend, because the low tides we had were some of the lowest of the year. So on Saturday I met up with Marla, Andrew (her husband), and Betsy (Andrew’s sister) and we all traipsed out to Natural Bridges.
This was our destination for the afternoon:
Taking civilians into the intertidal can be tricky, because they often come with expectations that don’t get met. Like expecting to see an octopus, for example. I explain that the octopuses are there, but are better at hiding from us than we are at finding them, but that never feels very satisfactory. This trio, however, were fun to show around. The tide was beautifully low and we had fantastic luck with the weather. It had rained in the morning, but the afternoon was clear and sunny. I congratulated Marla on remembering to pay the weather bill. And the passing stormlet didn’t come with a big swell, so the ocean was pretty flat. We were able to spend some quality time in the mid-tidal zone, with occasional forays into the low intertidal.
The typical Natural Bridges fauna–owl limpets, mussels, chitons, anemones, etc.–were all present and accounted for. Of course, there isn’t much algal stuff going on in mid-January.
Given the time of year (mid-January) and the time of day (late afternoon), the sun was coming in at a low angle. This was tricky for photographing, both in and out of water. However, sometimes good things happen, as in this photo below:
That’s a big kelp crab (Pugettia producta) nestled among four sunburst anemones (Anthopleura sola). Kelp crabs are pretty placid creatures, for crabs, and usually take cover when approached. But this one remained in plain sight, holding so still that I thought it was dead. Even when I hovered directly over it and blocked the sun, it didn’t move at all. Then it occurred to me that maybe he was having the sexy times with a lady friend. So I very carefully reached down and gave him a tap on the carapace. He flinched a little, so I knew he wasn’t dead, but made no move to get away. And I caught a glimpse of a more golden leg underneath him.
Crabs live their entire lives encased in a rigid exoskeleton, and can mate only during a short window of opportunity after a female molts. Early in the breeding season, a female crab uses pheromones to attract nearby males. When a suitable male approaches, she may let him grab her in a sort of crabby hug. That’s what this male kelp crab is doing to his mate. They may remain in this embrace for several days, waiting until the female molts and her new exoskeleton is soft. At that point the male will use specialized appendages to insert packets of sperm into the female’s gonopores. The two will then go their separate ways.
We didn’t disturb these crabs, and let them go on doing their thing. By now the sun was going down, so we headed back up and were rewarded with a glorious sunset.
Always a great way to end the day!