A Moving Mass Of

Crabs

Egg-laying Rite in the Solomons

From, A Lady Resident of the Solomon Islands ALWAYS there are a few crabs about the garden and paddocks, making a nuisance of themselves, digging holes in the front paths and nipping the tops off very special plants or eating chickens not properly cooped; but for the first week or two in November we noticed their numbers steadily increasing.

The climax came one night, about the third week in November, when, sitting inside reading, we could hear a strange rustling going on outside. A friend described it as a flock of sheep on the move. Going out to the front gate and flashing a shooting light round about we saw a sight which made me “creep” for nights after.

The ground was just a moving mass or carpet of crabs. On every bush and fence they swarmed in hundreds, all moving, with their funny cumbrous gait in the one direction —towards the sea. I was informed they were all female crabs because they didn’t have hairy legs.

Next morning, I was up at dawn, and it was still a case of “watch your step,” as they were still on the move. But as the light of day approached and the sun became hotter, those that had not reached the water’s edge, made haste to hide themselves under coral and pieces of rub bish, wood, or anything at all, until by 9 o’clock there was not a crab to be seen, unless one went looking for them.

We went to the beach, and there wit nessed what appeared to be almost a reli gious rite of some kind, for each crab advanced to the water’s edge, and, cross ing its claws above its head, shook itself hard —not once, but many times; and then moved back among the stones to make way for another. The crab’s belly was covered with what appeared to be a dark-coloured rubber sponge, only with very, very minute knobs in place of the holes in a sponge. Perhaps that’s not a very good simile, but anyway those are the eggs, and the natives told us that the female crab goes to the sea every year at the same time, and washes her eggs in the salt water and then goes back and hatches them in the sand.

On going round the plantation we saw the whole foreshore was riddled with crab-holes —looked just like a miniature battlefield.

Needless to say, a few of the creatures died on the journey, and a sickening stench hung over everything for days.

We are now awaiting developments, as the natives say they come back again in February.

At Rere, I have seen, at a certain time of the year, millions of very tiny crabs come out of the salt water, and my theory is that they are those hatched from the eggs we saw, and that they are left in the rocks and not taken back to terra firma at all. One year at Rere the baby ones were feet deep on the beach and against the copra shed. I cannot remem ber having seen the big crabs there, though.

These, here, are about 4in. to 5in. across, I suppose, and most ferocious looking creatures.