As in, in my house.
This is one of those â€œnever happened in Chicagoâ€ things. And if you had told me 10 years or more ago that someday undomesticated crabs would, in fact, be in my house?
I honestly have no clue how I would have reacted. I canâ€™t even begin to picture it.
While we occasionally found them underneath our house by the beach (itâ€™s on pilings), we never had one inside the house. Now that weâ€™re on a salt marsh, they are what youâ€™d call regulars.
Most of the crabs we find are fiddler crabs and marsh crabs as opposed to the ghost crabs and walking crabs more common in our experience by the ocean. Thus they are smaller, an inch or two in length, and unfortunately easy to miss when you are going about your business, unsuspectingly, in your home. My daughter, therefore, has given herself the position of crab defender, often throwing herself in harmâ€™s way to protect an unsuspecting crab from the oblivious steps of siblings and parents as they move throughout the house. The initial screech, followed by the subsequent indignation in her voice, is a force we all would prefer to avoid.
Well, all of us except possibly her younger brother, who I strongly suspect sometimes feigns oblivion, just to hear the lion roar.