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September 20, 1984 - Stalking the Blue ClawPage 10A The Suffolk Times September 20,1984 Stalking the Blue Claw By PAUL STOUTENBURGH "Hey, dad, it's firelighting time!" And that said it all. Anyone who lives around the bays and creeks of Long Is- land and has had the good fortune of being exposed to their mysteries and adventures knows all too well what those words mean. Even if you never knew anything about firelighting, the words themselves carried a certain al- lure. Luck was on my side, for during the early years when impressions are the greatest, I had the good fortune to have East Creek and Wickham's Creek prac- tically as a backyard. Those were the days when you learned by imitating what your parents did. My dad would go out with his favorite crab net and the family washtub tied to his waist in pursuit of the elusive blue claw. Whenever I had the chance, I'd follow along just to see how it was done and where his favorite spots were. He knew them all in our creeks and as long as it was sandy and a firm bottom, I followed nearby. But then to get the big ones, h'd always head for the muddy part of the creek which I, as a youngster, just couldn't handle. His long legs, some- times almost knee deep in mud, were no match for my skinny -- and I must say timid -- legs. Like a heron stalking a killie, my dad would slowly lower the net and then with one quick movement bring it up and over to the trailing washtub, drip- ping with sea lettuce, mud -- and nine times out of ten -- a crab. This was my dad's typical way of crabbing. Not by boat, but by walking. Later, on shore, when it was heavy in the water, the tub would be over- turned and the crabs washed and sepa- rated and put back in. Looking into that snarling snapping conglomerate of crabs, I thought it even worse than the proverbial snake pit. Headed Home Later as we triumphantly marched home, the tub slung on the crab net han- dle between the two of us, I felt proud indeed. The tub would be left in the backyard while dad and I got dressed, and it was usually during this time when the crabs were left unattended, that one or two would get out. Many's the time you'd see a crab meandering across the backyard or down the drive- way. When you saw this, you knew crabbing season was surely upon you. That night, there'd be a feast on the back porch. Newspaper tablecloths, the forerunners of today's disposable ones, were laid out and heaping platters of the cooked red crabs were brought forth. Learning to eat crabs is like learning to eat fish. You have to know a bit about how they are put together. Once that's learned, eating becomes a joy. The brownish mustard of the crab my Dad always said was the sweetest part. This was a little hard to stomach (no pun intended) in those early years, but as one grows older and acquires a taste for this succulent bit, one soon realizes how true his words were. As time went on and we all became proficient in the skills of crabbing, we soon ventured into the darkness of night to follow the crabs. The crab nets hadn't changed, but the means of attack was different. Now you worked out of a rowboat with a gas light dangling from its bow for illumination. The hissing and an occasional pumping still to this day produce a good light so necessary for this night -time crabbing. Right Time for Crabbing And so it was last week that Roger and I went firelighting. The conditions couldn't have been better and without them one might as well stay at home. All the factors needed had come to- gether that night -- low tide, clear water, no wind and most important the will and excitement to go. It was dark when we arrived at the dock, and the marsh grass had already taken on the wetness of the night. In the trees along the edges the katydids tried to outdo each other. "Katy did." "Katy didn't." "Katy did." "Katy didn't." And even far in back a young screech owl tried out its voice. Every sound was amplified in the stillness as we lowered the gear into the boat. We even brought an eel spear along just in Photo by Paul Stoutenburgh MALE BLUE CLAW CRAB - -You can tell this is a male blue claw crab by the T- shaped apron on its underside. The female is usually smaller with red - tipped claws and a triangular shaped apron. case we might see some of those elusive prowlers in the creek. Soon other firelighters joined us. Like ourselves, they, too, had waited for the conditions to be just right. We shoved off and headed up the east side of the creek. The others took the opposite side. Our boats moved slowly, seemingly sus- pended over the water as our lanterns threw a glow before us. Outside of its glow, darkness surrounded us. The water was clear and as we moved along we could see perfectly. Great clumps of green cabbage lay helter skelter over the bottom. In some places, it formed a solid mat. Everywhere there was the sprinkling of mud snails. They are the vacuum cleaners of the bottom. Shells and other debris caught our eyes as we eagerly searched for our first crab. Then, there it was, half hidden under a clump of grass. Slowly the net went down, then it swung up quickly, over, and into the boat. Grass, crab and all dropped in. Sometimes we'd catch a pig- gyback pair. The big blue -claw male will carry the smaller red - tipped claw female underneath him in love's em- brace. To grow, a crab must shed its shell and it is during this soft period that mating takes place. The male has no such protection from the many pre- dators that lurk throughout our creeks. They must hide in the mud or grass until their shells become hardened. Then they, once again, can face the world. Whenever we got a soft crab it would be placed in a special container for the thrashing claws of the hard crabs would chew it to pieces otherwise. When an eel showed up there would be a mad scramble for the long -poled eel spear. A quick jab and if luck was with you, up would come a squirming eel on the end of the spear. Getting it off often proved more of a problem than getting the eel. By the end of the night, we had caught a good mess of crabs and eight or nine eels. It was time to go home. Crabs seem to go in cycles. This year it seemed the summer went by without noticing many crabs about, but then to- wards the end of August and the begin- ning of September they appeared. The oldtimers would say, "Have a full moon and crabbing will be at its best." Well, they were right. Our full moon had just passed and firelighting couldn't have been better. We had the folks down and some of the kids over and once again the newspapers were spread and out came the platters of cooked red crabs. It was like old times again. WAREHOUSE - Selling 160' Jong Red Barn on Railroad at 5th St., Greenport. Commercial zoned - large lot for expansion. Village water, sewer and electric available. Many investment possibilities. Ideal for manufacturing - mini - storage, auction barn, antique shops, machine shops, winery. For information, call. R.B. Hudson at: R.B. HUDSON CO., INC. Greenport • (516) 477 -0250 Mabel Pittman Baptist Leader Here GREENPORT -- Mabel Pittman, na- tional director of the Conservative Bap- tist Women's Ministries for the Conser- vative Baptist Association of America, will be the featured speaker at an all - day seminar at the First Baptist Church of Greenport on Sept. 26. She is sched- uled to be at the church for four hours, beginning at 9:45 a.m.