July 17, 1980 - Beachcombing Always Turns Up Its TreasuresSECOND SECTION
JULY 17, 1980
Beachcombing Always Turns Up Its Treasures
Sunday morning: Barbara and I slept
overnight in our sailboat and before the
world got going I thought it would be a
good time to do a little writing. Right now
we're anchored off one of the many
uninhabited beaches that with a little
searching can still be found out here on the
East End.
The morning is sparkling and fresh
because of our switch in wind to the
northwest, which always means cool, dry
air. The joy of being up before anyone is
about urged me to do a bit of exploring and
so I paddled the dinghy over to the beach
for an early morning stroll.
The gulls and a lone pair of piping
plovers greeted me. A more enjoyable
greeting you couldn't ask for. My beach-
combing came up with many of our
Peconic Bay specialties -- multi - colored
scalloped shells endless in their variety.
Then there were the occasional razor clam
shells. These long, thin - bladed, newly -
opened shells told me a seagull had just
finished a good meal. This is one we should
get to know more about, for they are
delicious eating. How and where to get
them is the secret.
Evidence of `spat' (small) oyster shells
told me a story of hope, for oysters have
long been missing from our bays. I'm sure
many of you can remember years past
when oyster poles, with their canvas flags,
marked the beds throughout our bays.
From Orient to Riverhead oysters were
grown and cultivated. Remnants of a
once - thriving business can still be seen in
the silhouettes of forgotten oyster houses
in Greenport and New Suffolk. One of the
earliest color photos I ever took was of an
oyster boat alongside the still - standing but
dilapidated oyster house in New Suffolk.
We still do have a very viable oyster
industry in East Marion, but their young
oysters, I'm told, come from Connecticut.
Another Beach Secret
The beach I happened to be on told me
another one of its secrets, for all along it I
found the not too common false angel -wing
shell. For some reason these shells seem to
hold their two halves together longer than
other shells and surely do give the
impression of angel wings. Stark white and
deeply ribbed, they are handsome shells.
Their secret told me that a bog was not too
far off, for they burrow in that habitat.
Sure enough, a half -mile up the beach
there was a marsh, separated from the
bay by a thin edge of sand. The bog lay
buried offshore and it was from this area
I'm sure these beautiful angel wings came.
Scattered all along most of our beaches
here on the East End you'll find the little
quarter deck or boat shells. These deep,
one -inch shells, with their characteristic
decks half way across their boat, are
known to every youngster who swims our
beaches. On calm days these little boats
can be floated along with the bigger
scallop shells to while away the joyful days
of youth and old alike. These too, are a
gourmet's delight. Whey. :eshly opened
and eaten like clams on the half shell they
are hard to beat. Many's the time you'll
find them three, four, five and six, one on
top of the other, clinging to a stone for
security. If this were Europe, we'd be
harvesting these commercially, to the
delight of many. Interesting to note, most
people would probably eat them if given
half a chance, but they'd be taken up short
if I told them they were eating a snail!
Would you try one?
Colorful Jingle Shells
Of all the shells on the beaches, the
daintiest and most beautifully hued are
SEASHELLS- -The endless shapes and varieties of shells along our beaches always make for good
beachcombing. Photo by Paul Stoutenburgh
ftafl'('�3
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our jingle shells. 'These frail, yellow and
orange hued wafers are often collected for
the pure joy of color. Few people realize
there are two parts to this shell. The other
part is white and has a hole in it where the
muscle attaches to the rock, but it is
seldom found.
Girls in particular enjoy these shells
because they are basically soft and may be
pierced and strung into necklaces or
bracelets. The real ambitious ones will
make wind chimes and room dividers with
these colorful and jingling shells.
As I rowed back to the boat I could smell
breakfast cooking aboard. How beautiful
the world seemed to be, my church was
here and I was thankful. Off in the distance
was a bayman tending his conch pots.
Yankee ingenuity marked the long string
of white clorox bottles markers he was
laboriously hauling up. A quick inspection
and clean out and they were back in the
water again. The sea again was the
provider -- and refresher of the soul.
PAUL STOUTENBURGH
HIGH WATER GREENPORT HARBOR
Thurs. July 17 2:27 a.m. Sun. July 20 4:49 a.m.
Fri. July 18 3:11 a.m. Mon. July 21 5:42 a.m.
Sat. July 19 3:59 a.m. Tues. July 22 6:37 a.m.
Wed. July 23 7:31 a.m.
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