I haven’t met a child yet who isn’t fascinated by the miniature world inside a tide pool. I remember when I was a little girl I could spend hours watching the hermit crabs and bullheads, and make up stories about them. I gave them names and relationships and wished I could shrink down and join in their adventures.

     So it was no hardship when, the evening two guests came to stay, one of them immediately took me on a hike to visit the tide pools.

 In the first pool we came to I spotted a sculpin sitting on the bottom, mottled to exactly same design as the rocks around him. Since blending in was his sole defense against inquisitive humans, unlike the darting bullheads who relied on their quicksilver speed to escape, J. had no problem reaching in and picking him up.

     “Wow, he’s huge!” J. said, comparing him to the smaller bullheads. “And he has evil eyes.”
     I hadn’t thought of it before, but the sculpin was a much less friendly looking fish than the almost comical bullheads.

   “I found you a beautiful shell!” J. exclaimed and pulled it free of the water. His face fell as he turned it over. “There’s somebody home.”

     “I guess we’ll have to put her back.”

     J. regretfully returned the pretty shell to its watery world.

 He forgot about the disappointment of the inhabited shell when he found, in the next small tide pool, a large sea anemone with all of its feeding tentacles extended.

     J. yearned to poke it, just to see its tentacles flash back inside, but he refrained. After all, he knew how much he loved to eat and wouldn’t have liked having his dinnertime interrupted by some hulking giant in rubber boots and a red life vest.

 “He’s missing an arm!” J. dragged me over to a tide pool where a starfish did indeed only have four appendages. It gave him a sadly decapitated look.

     “Poor guy,” I said. “He’s been through the wars.”

     “Don’t worry,” J. reassured me. “It’ll grow back.” He hunkered down, studying the four-legged starfish for a long time. It was obvious he envied the starfish’s ability to lose a limb and grow it back, the superhero, with superhero abilities, of the sea world.

     We batted the growing swarm of bugs away as a light sprinkle fell and the long summer evening clouded over. It was with extreme reluctance that we headed home.

     “We can always come back!” J. told me.


6/24/2016 11:38:56 pm

Oh how fun! I LOVE tidepooling, and will never grow out of it. Thank you for showing us the intriguing creatures.



6/24/2016 11:43:29 pm

Like you, I always love tidepooling (love your word!) on my own, but it’s even more fun seeing it through children’s eyes. Everything is such a huge, exciting discovery. 🙂



6/25/2016 02:56:49 pm

Young eyes bring the wonder back to our world, no matter where they look. Thanks for sharing the wonders with us.

Daneel Olivaw

6/25/2016 04:40:05 am

Your starfish photo is wonderful; the creature looks like it’s made out of a patch of the night sky that fell to Earth, glittering with stars itself.

By me, Lake Michigan has its ups and downs but not to the extent that one would dignify calling them tides. Still, the wave action does sometime fill beach depressions with water and our local kids delight in examining the things caught in those pools” bottle caps, syringes, cigarette butts, etc. Ah, life in the big city…



6/25/2016 12:10:42 pm

I love how you described the starfish, Daneel. I might have to steal that for a future starfish blog.

Those poor Lake Michigan kids!



6/25/2016 06:44:13 pm

What a great outing! I want to be J. I’ve never seen a tide pool. As always, I learn something new with each blog posting. Thank you.



7/11/2016 10:46:38 am

You’re welcome! I hope one day you get the joy of exploring the natural aquarium of a tide pool.

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