Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
We were amused to see the thousands of bright red hermit crabs tottering along in the shells
that they found on the beach. The larger they grew, the bigger the shell they would adopt,
abandoning the previous shell, which in turn provided a home for a smaller crab. They were
everywhere, and care had to be taken not to step on them. The dogs, Army and Palmyra (as
we found out later), were quite used to them and wouldn't even notice as the crabs bumped
and plodded along.
We had been keeping an eye open for any coconut crabs. There were colonies that lived
here beneath the host trees, judging by the various holes dotted about. According to the pi-
lot book, they made excellent eating as they fed exclusively on coconuts. Of late though,
these crabs had thinned out in numbers and eating them now was frowned upon by all.
They were also a beautiful London bus red. I wondered why? Why would such tasty food
evolve into signal red? To whose advantage, certainly not the crabs? Could this be a case
of random selection from a predator species, a species that lived off the crabs and selected
and virtually bred their red pantry?
One late afternoon while reclining in the cool “forest” bath, I was most fortunate to witness
one such crab crawl deliberately up a coconut tree near my bath. As I watched, it scuttled
into a group of coconuts, selected a ripe one, and with its one massive claw calmly snipped
through the tough fibrous stem. The coconut dropped loudly onto the ground below, and I
saw the crab hurry down the tree trunk. I quietly got out of the bath and crouched down
near the bushes where the nut had fallen. The thud must have signaled other crabs for soon
there were about three or four that had materialized out of their burrows, and they started
grappling with the nut. Without hesitation they had broken through the tough kernel and
were feeding on its milk and fruit. If anyone has ever tried to cut open a coconut they will
appreciate just how immensely strong these crabs have to be to be in order to pull that off!
The dogs had a wonderful habit of jumping in the dinghies as we made our final trip back
to the yacht at night. We had brought Gavin's red, inflatable dinghy into service and were
again a two car family, so to speak; we could go about from ship to shore independently.
The dogs would ride in one of our dinghies and then would need a little helping hand up on
Déjà vu where we had put a carpet out on the foredeck. There was a bowl of water for them
and a scrap bowl. They slept peacefully there most nights. At first light they would either
jump into the lagoon and swim ashore, or they would hitch a ride in with us. In turn, they
took us for walks around the island and showed us all the good spots and places of interest,
like the abandoned hospital ruins. They really knew the islands well, and it showed.
We were lucky one afternoon to experience firsthand their concerted effort in capturing and
killing a black tipped shark. Gavin and I had been diving with spear guns and a long line
with buoy attached at one end and a wire feeder at the other. When either of us speared one
of the numerous pelagic fish that inhabited the great reef, we would immediately take it to
