sound, ocean and swales between. Scott 

 gave the campsite his approval and 

 reloaded the camera. In the meantime, 

 a small pageant was playing out at 

 the edge of the lagoon. In the shadow 

 of our beached kayaks, hundreds of 

 fiddler crabs had gathered like frantic 

 Lilliputians. On close inspection, I 

 wasn't sure which was more handsome, 

 the delicate purple etchings on top of 

 the tiny shells or the curious red-tinged 

 claw that only some of them sported. 



Lundie expertly explained the 

 commotion. The females have two 

 small, white claws they use to shovel 



sand into their mouths and scour the 

 grains for organic matter. The males 

 have one usable white claw and a large 

 reddish-white one for "display" in 

 courtship, she says. When a female 

 walks by, the males encircle her and 

 wave their brilliant claws. Some even 

 flaunt their claws more by getting on 

 their "tiptoes." Today, the females took 

 no notice as they ambled through the 

 throng of suitors. 



"They not ready to molt and mate 

 yet," Lundie says of the indifferent 

 females. 



We dragged our boats back into 



the water, and the crabs scattered and 

 crawled into their holes. Our next route 

 was Trout Channel on the back side of 

 the island. It took us to the ferry dock, 

 where we met Park Superintendent Sam 

 Bland. The ferry wasn't on its summer 

 schedule yet, so Tim Simpson's private 

 taxi was the only boat at the dock. In 

 summer, there might be 500 people 

 on the island. Simpson has arrived to 

 fetch a lone couple waiting under a 

 wooden shelter. 



Meanwhile, he's telling Bland 

 about a fatigued loggerhead he sighted 



Continued 



COASTWATCH 5 



