Quote:
Originally Posted by h2ofishfo
man that looks good but doesnt that tail look small for the body size on that thing ?
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The body is like a Nerf football - albeit a very spiky and pokey one.
As we were diving, I see a foggy green light in the distance as I look up from what I considered to be a decent bug.
I bag the bug and sigh. This isn't diving, this is hunting, and the only time we signal each other when we're hunting is when there is something extraordinary. I'm thinking huge Nudi? Nah. I'm thinking new land mark? Nah. I'm thinking electric ray swimming? Nah. She's not out of gas... what's up?
I zip over, and she's making a large, slow circle on the sand with her light. There is bugzilla (looking about twice the size of the photo underwater) literally jogging along. I've never seen a running lobster, but there it was. And his mouth was full... he grabbed a bite and went for a jog.
I am not even joking.
So I look at her. Dette looks at me. I go, uh, well?
I blink, and she's going all Peter Sellers on this thing. We're talking Dr Strangeglove meets Rhinestone cowboy. I didn't know if she was trying to ride this thing or just saddle it up.
Silt is flying, Claudette has her knee on the thing, she's picking it up with both hands.... she's shaking it side to side and trying to maximize her grip and I swear I hear the thing talking to her like Frank the Pug was talking to Tommie Lee Jones in MIB.
I reach over through all this hubbub and unclip her bag. Its still rolled up on her chest D ring.
OK - so not only is this her first bug of the night (she hadn't seen one yet that was worthy of unfurling the bag), its her first bug of the season. So now I'm doubly jealous.
She dismounts Seabiscuit the bug, and tries to jam it into the bag I'm holding open. No way its going. She tries again, and then sort of gets behind the thing and shoves it into the bag with all the grace of a Kardashian sister stuffing herself into a leather jumpsuit.
Legs akimbo, antennae whipping about, the thing is croaking at us.
She gets it in.
WHEW.
So now
I have the bag in
my hands. This bag that can't eat another bite.
So I do what any caring buddy would do. I offer a trade. I unclip my lobster bag (which has one bug) and offer it to her. I mean, the night is young, baby. If she's gonna keep hunting she's gonna need a lobster bag, right?
Its how I roll. I'm a giver.
She shakes her head at my generous offer. So I insist. "Look, Chica - one roomy, nearly empty lobster bag for this busting full worthless lobster bag of yours.."
I hold out mine again, and she folds her arms and yells through her reg, "gimmie...."
*SIGH*
So now she's wrangling moby the rest of the night and I'm mueling her bugs. Oh yes - even though she was completely unable to stuff one more broken off leg into that bag, she continued to hunt.
Well, if by hunt you mean see a bug, flash your light, blink your eyes and wait for your personal bug valet to scoot over, pick it up, MEASURE IT, and stuff it into his bag for you.
Chica goes all Hollywood on me for the rest of the night.
Nice.
I did have the pleasure, however, of carrying all my bugs AND the rest of her bugs out through the surf in a bag so full I couldn't close it. Up hill, through the sand, up the stairs, to the truck - which was a fine workout.
I am your lobster personal shopper.
-Ken