THE HORSESHOE CRAB 



In the early morning, before the sun has dried 

 the sand or the wind blown it away, one may 

 see a continuous city of conical mounds made 

 by these little, workers stretching in a band 

 along the upper beach. If one can lose all 

 sense of proportion, a state of mind easily 

 acquired by viewing these mounds on the 

 ground glass of a camera, they suggest pic- 

 tures of the mounds of white ants, or of the 

 tents of an encamped army. As the waves of 

 the flood tide wash away these erections, the 

 water, entering the holes of the beach flea, 

 expells air which bubbles up for several sec- 

 onds at a time, leaving multiple craters like 

 those of the moon. In the daytime this crus- 

 tacean rarely ventures abroad, but at night- 

 fall the upper beach is fairly alive with their 

 little plump forms, hopping about, seeking 

 what they may devour. Their night of feast- 

 ing and play over, they dig their holes, in 

 which they remain for the day. 



Another beach flea, a smaller, browner crea- 

 ture, exists in immense numbers in the sea- 

 wrack of the beach, where it serves both as 

 a scavanger and as a food for shore birds,— 

 two very laudable purposes, but not equally 

 appreciated by the beach flea. 



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