Aging at the Aquarium

The toddlers soft pale hands were wrapped around the medieval looking shell of one of the horseshoe crabs while the crab’s sword like tail slashed about. “Philip, can’t horseshoe crabs sting with their tail?” Philip was acting as the human encyclopedia for all things nautical while we explored the North Carolina aquarium at Fort Fisher, Kure Beach.

“No, their tails are really just for steering while they swim. Horseshoe crabs don’t really crawl like most crabs, they bend their shell back and forth to propel them through the water much faster than other crabs.” Philip and I were both starring in amazement at the toddler feeding bits of squid to the upside down animal. I could tell Philip was amazed by the inner workings of the crabs feeding habits. I was more amazed at the toddler. Living on campus at college I hadn’t realized until now how long it had been since I had seen a child. It was almost like once I had left youth behind, it had disappeared from the world all together.

Philip was a biology enthusiast and was studying Zoology at Virginia Tech. We hadn’t seen each other since high school graduation, but he was in town so we both felt obligated to see each other, mostly because we had been really great friends before senior year. Philip was staying with his parents at the beach a few miles away from my college, UNC Wilmington. I think it was his parents who pressured him to tell me he was in town.

I looked from Philip back to the child as he squealed. The crab pulled the hunk of thawed squid from his fingers. His mother was now holding the shell and egging the boy to drop the food into the horseshoes mouth. There were at least ten horseshoe crabs in the touch tank, along with an equal number of rays and three or four large hermit crabs. Philip had taken the pile of frozen squid the aquarium worker gave us and was methodically flipping crabs upside down and dropping the food into their mouths.

A group of elementary school students walked into the room, where we were, squealing and jumping up and down in their single file line behind a very tired looking middle-aged teacher.  There were nine students so I assumed there was either another group of rascals bouncing around on the other side of the building, or this group of nine was special. None of the kids seemed intelligent or exceptionally unintelligent to be a part of any special education program. “I’m a rainbow fish, Mrs. Oakes! I’m a rainbow fish!” One of the girls in the middle of the line was shouting to her teacher and suddenly all of the children were claiming to be different aquatic animals.

“I’m a Shark!”

“Well I’m an electric eel.”

“I want to be a dolphin!”

“I’m the lobster! I’ve got pinchers, Mrs. Oakes, look!”

“I’m SpongeBob.”

“Ooo, I’m Patrick!”

Suddenly the children veered off from typical sea creatures and began to yell names of characters from the television show SpongeBob Squarepants. After all nine of the students had adopted a new name, either Gary, Sandy, Mr. Crabs, or Larry the Lobster, they continued past the horseshoe crab touch tank and gasped at the two story glass tank filled with sharks, giant rays, and a variety of other large fish.

The brown haired toddler ran out of squid and was now splashing his hands on the surface of the water. His mother wiped his hands, pushed back his brown curls and slid him into his stroller. In the corner of the shallow open tank I saw a horseshoe crab stuck on its back. Its legs were convulsing and it was bending its shell back and forth trying to turn itself over. Then another crab rammed the overturned one and flipped him back onto his feet. I’m still not sure if the crab realized his fellow was stuck, or if the tank was so small he had no choice but to run into him.

“Did you see that crab turn the other one over?” I asked Philip.

“What? No, I was looking at this manta ray. What happened?”

“Nothing. Lets go downstairs to the Octopus.”
             My favorite animal was an Octopus. I loved how they could fit into almost any shape. They are extremely smart animals; great at camouflage. We walked to the tank and I saw a yellow sign that read, “Octopus temporarily not on exhibit.”

“Are you kidding me? That’s my favorite animal.” Philip was preoccupied looking at the jellyfish, which admittedly were also very cool. But, the jellyfish were no Octopus. “Hey Philip, do you want to go? I think we’ve seen everything after we walk through the fossil section.”

“Yeah I’m about ready to get some lunch. Do you know any sushi places? Looking at all of these fish has kind of gotten me in the mood.” As we were leaving, Mrs. Oakes’ class was pressing their hands and faces against the glass of the puffer fish tank attempting to get one of the fishes to puff up. Philip and I had spent two and a half hours strolling through the many tanks of fish, turtles, and sea creatures and still hadn’t talked much about high school. It was easier to talk about fish and elementary school life than everything that had happened senior year.