#13. How to Handle Your Lobster
In which the E@L plays Pinch-the-Pinky with curmudgeonly crustaceans
I was bitten with marine biology at the age of four, when a crab pinched my toe. I was wading in the ocean near Atlantic Beach, North Carolina, and thought I was going to die. But a kindly lifeguard removed the crab, thereby saving my life (or so I thought). Ever since then I have tried to exact vengeance by eating as many crabs as possible.
I’ve been a marine biologist, and studied crabs, for almost fifty years. During that time, I have handled thousands of crabs, maybe hundreds of thousands. But I have only been pinched once by each species I studied. Crabs and lobsters don’t actually bite - they pinch, with their claws. I’ve been pinched by Dungeness crabs, Tanner crabs, snow crabs, king crabs (at least 4 species), spider crabs, rock crabs, mud crabs, lady crabs, and blue crabs (they hurt the worst). But only once – I never let it happen again. And for a while, at the University of Massachusetts, I studied lobsters, too.
There’s always a first time
The first time I handle a new species of crab, I usually get pinched. That quickly teaches me how not to pick up that crab. From then on, I can handle it safely without injury. Pound for pound, Chesapeake Bay blue crabs are the most aggressive, followed closely by Dungeness crabs. Both species are extremely agile and difficult to pick up without being pinched. Either one can break skin and make you think you are about to lose a finger. The only way to handle them safely is to put your thumb on their back and your first two fingers underneath their body. Even then, it is amazing how far they can reach beneath and above them with their claws.
The first time I saw a live king crab, I didn’t want to go near it. The claws on an adult male are the size of a man’s hand – they evolved to break clam shells, and human fingers aren’t much of a challenge, in comparison. Until I watched one walk. Underwater they are like graceful trapeze artists, suspended between spring-loaded legs. They can flip themselves upright from an upside-down position in a matter of seconds. But out of water, their bulky bodies are clumsy and cumbersome, like a drunk with too many legs. Their movements are so ungainly and slow that it is easy to pick them up without danger, simply by grabbing hold of one of their rear legs near its junction with the body. Snow and Tanner crabs are somewhere in between Dungeness crabs and king crabs. The smaller ones are quick and agile, but larger adults are slower and less adept at the game of pinch-the-pinky.
Even little inch-long shore crabs can give you a sharp pinch if you are not careful. But experience has taught me that they are usually more afraid of me than I am of them. The best way to handle them is just to scoop them up in cupped hands. With no extended fingers to grab, they will sit in your hands comfortably, and may even crawl up your arm. That might give some people the willies, but to me it’s kinda cute.
Newtons and Dickens
The blood of crustaceans (crabs, lobsters, shrimp, etc) contains magnesium that, under the right conditions, can act as an anesthetic. It has been reported that more active crabs (like blue crabs) have low levels of magnesium in their blood, and less active crabs have higher levels, suggesting that the aggressiveness of these crabs could be related to their blood levels of magnesium. But blue crabs tend to live in warm water, and king crabs in very cold water, so temperature differences might also be a factor in their behavior.
The “pinching power” of crabs and lobsters depends on the size and shape of the chelipeds (claws). Lobsters have one large claw with molar-like knobs (the “crusher” claw) and one smaller one with serrated teeth or denticles (the “cutter” claw). Most crabs have equal-sized claws, but some, like king crabs, have unequal claws.
The chela of a good sized Cancer crab can generate a crushing force of 5 to 9 Newtons (N) on its prey (mussels). Newtons, of course, are named after Sir Isaac Newton, and not surprisingly, one Newton (1 N) is equivalent to the effect of gravity causing one medium-sized apple to drop from a tree. So the force generated by the crab claw would be equivalent to dropping a bag of 5-9 apples on your foot. When that force is concentrated onto your finger, it increases to about 68 N per square cm. But the sharp teeth of an adult Snow crab can generate a force exceeding 250 N onto a spot only a few mm in size. Now you know why getting pinched hurts like the dickens.
All Punch and No Pinch
On one occasion, I visited a shedding house in Virginia, where blue crabs were held until they molted, then sold for the soft-shell market. As I reached into a tank of crabs to pick one up, it stood up on its legs and spread its claws out in the typical crustacean threat display. By doing this, they appear to be much larger, which is enough to persuade some predators to go find a less feisty snack. I heeded the warning, and recoiled slightly from its grasp, until I realized my mistake. The crab had just molted, or shed its old shell. In the water it was still agile. But when I picked it up and held it out of water, its soft body folded practically in half, and it had no strength at all. In truth, it couldn’t have pinched me at all, and its pugnacious attitude was all bluster.
Lobsters, as everybody knows, are not the most agreeable creatures either. Ever try picking one up at the seafood market? Even though rubber bands on the claws will prevent them from clamping down on your fingers, they still put on an impressive threat display. The best way to pick them up is to reach behind them and grab them around the shell just behind the claws. Then, if you hold their claws in one hand, and place the other under their body, like holding a cat, they settle down, and can be quite docile. If you gently rub the top of their carapace, you can almost hear them purr.
A momentary lapse
The worst pinch I ever got was from a Chesapeake Bay blue crab. I was paying a visit to my colleague Dr. Tuck Hines at the Smithsonian Environmental Research Center, on the shores of Chesapeake Bay. On that day, he and his staff were placing archival tags on blue crabs. Archival tags are little electronic devices that record depth, temperature, and salinity over a period of time. Each device was about the size of a matchbox, and they were attached to the crab by wrapping some wire around spines on the crab’s shell. When suited up, each crab looked like a little suicide bomber with a backpack. Tuck’s goal was to release the crabs into the upper portion of the Bay, and hope somebody caught them farther down, and returned the backpack. By analyzing the recorded data, the scientists would be able to figure out what course the crab had traveled through the Bay.
I offered to help with the tagging, so Tuck handed me a bucket of crabs and some tags. The tags were worth several hundred dollars each, and each crab had been carefully selected, detected, and inspected to make sure it was healthy and had all its legs. Don’t want no three-legged crabs scuttling around in circles out there. It took me a few tries to get the hang of strapping the backpack onto the crab, and there was some friendly competition between the taggers over who could tag the most crabs. I was not winning, but holding my own, when I reached down into my bucket for the last crab. Something distracted me for a second and then PINCH!
“Owww, $#!+$#!+$#!+” I yelled, or something to that effect. I held up my hand with the crab hanging onto my fourth finger and pinching the bejeesus out of it. Everyone stopped to look.
Fighting back tears, I put on my most professional demeanor. In what seemed like a time warp, multiple thought processes competed for my attention. First, I was in severe pain and needed immediate relief. But, I’m surrounded by professionals, who are now looking at me and wondering if I will act professionally or completely flip out. And since I did not want to make an idiot out of myself, I tried as hard as possible to be nonchalant, as if this-happens-all-the-time, it’s-no-big-deal, so get-over-it. And knowing how valuable each of these research animals was, and the time and money spent to get each of them prepared for their journey, I did not want to damage either the crab or the tag device. All of this raced through my brain in about a fraction of a millisecond.
While weighing all these competing thoughts, I carefully tried to pry open the claw, but the crab was not having it. After about a minute, by which time the crab probably decided it had inflicted as much pain as possible, it severed itself from the claw (oh, yeah, they can do that) and fell back into the bucket, but the claw was still pinching my finger tightly. Finally, I pried it open and dropped it into the bucket. My finger now had a large dent in it where the claw had been, and it hurt like hell. Imagine a cartoon finger alternately swelling and glowing bright red. That was me.
While all this was happening, Tuck watched casually with a puzzled look on his face.
Finally he said “If that had been me, I would have just smashed that crab against the wall.”
Now he tells me. After my concerted effort to save the crab, the backpack, and my own face, I should have just reacted like a normal person and freaked out. That crab pinched me so hard it damaged the nerve in my finger, and I did not regain full sensation in it for almost two months.
Which just goes to show that crustaceans, like many other animals, will put on impressive displays of aggression if threatened. These may be legitimate warnings that they can do serious harm, and they should not be messed with. But often as not, they are simply bluffing. Either they can’t do much damage, or their threats are easy to circumvent; all bark and no bite. In that manner, they are not unlike some people I have known.
I guess you just have to know how to handle them.
Entertaining and informative at the same time! 🦀