Thursday, June 12, 2008


The kid across the street, a 5-year-old, and his friends who live next door, a 6- and 4-year-old, made a big find yesterday. It was so amazing they had to let the 5-year-old's mother in on it, so she could explain what it was.

They brought it over to me. I was sitting in the driveway, watching the passing parade.

Their discovery had been delicately placed, with a pooper scooper, into a plastic terrarium-type enclosure that had air vents in the top and a handle, making it easy for transport.

"Look what we found," said the mom. "What is it? I think it's a lobster, but I don't know. It looks like a lobster."

"That's a crawdad," said I.

"A crawdad."

"Yeah, I used to catch 'em when I was a kid. We'd barbecue em and eat the tails."

"A crawdad?"

"Yeah. Officially, it's a crayfish. But it's a crawdad."

She chattered on, quite excited, and then they all left, but the kids came back 5 minutes later. I suggested they some water in the plastic box and said maybe they could feed the caged monster some goldfish food, if they had any.

"We could feed it some grass," the 5-year-old said.

"I don't think they eat grass."

The crawdad, you could hear its legs tapping on the floor of the plastic enclosure, as it moved back and forth.

"He's kinda mad," I said.


"Well," I said, leaning back in my chair, feeling a little like Wilford Brimley. "He's sayin, `Man, I'm stuck here in this plastic box and these kids are lookin at me. I really don't like this. I'd like to get out of here.' "

"You can talk to him?" the amazed 6-year-old said.

"Uh, yeah."

I got the hose and put about an inch of water in the enclosure. Then I brought it up to my face and asked, "Is that enough or do you want more."

I put the box up to my ear and listened a few seconds, then said, "OK."

"He said that's enough water for now."

The kids went back across the street and got a Tupperware box from the mother to look for more of the creatures.

I guess I'll find out today whether the lobster survived the night in captivity. Poor bastard.


Slampo said...

I think that was a "crawfish," not a "crawdad." Sheesh.

Louise said...

You say crawfish, Banjo says crayfish..I say crawdad...almost like a song, no?!

Banjo Jones said...

they was crawdads where i came up. also, Slampo, lay off The Houston Chronicle. they doin the best they can in this unstable economic media environment. that is all.

Anonymous said...

We called 'em "crawdeads" in Iago, got 'em with little pieces of bacon on a string in the ditches. Those who ventured in the water got leeches on bare legs. Those who laid in the San Augustine on the bank got a crotch covered with redbugs. A hot match head made the leeches detach while Campho-Phenique got the bugs.