Yep. I said it. I don't think that I am smarter than a crayfish. I know that I am smarter than a fifth grader, because I almost always beat them when I watch that show. Plus, I've graduated fifth grade and they haven't yet. And crayfish don't even go to school. But I still think that they are smarter than I am. Because whenever Sister and I go to catch them it always takes us like two days and at least 4 gallons of gas. And since she usually holds the jug with the holes punched in the lid, and I work the lacrosse-stick-looking thing, I am thinking that it has nothing to do with her. I am always crouched over the water, staring at the bottom, lifting rock after rock, and I can never find them.
I don't think that they are shape shifters. I read a bunch of biology books and magazines, like the Journal of Biology or the International Journal of Biological Sciences. I even looked up zoology in a dictionary, and not just any dictionary, one of those huge ones that they put at the end of a row of shelves at the library, you know, the one that's on the little swivel stand and always seems to be opened to a dirty word? Yeah, that one. Well, none of those said anything about crayfish. Except the dictionary of course. They had a definition. In fact, Merriam-Webster had this to say:
Well, they didn't seem to have anything about that either. At least not on their online dictionary. But in my 1933 Webster's Collegiate Dictionary that I have they say this:
crayfish (n): Any of a family of numerous fresh-water crustaceans closely resembling the lobster, but much smaller
Yeah, they basically just told me what I already knew. But the point is that nowhere in that definition does it mention the word shape-shifter. But they always just disappear when I dip my net into the water to scoop them up. On the rare occasion that I actually do get one in my net, usually a rock or a stick comes with it. Yeah, it brings its own camouflage. So then, if I happen to reach into the net, it can CLAW THE SHIT OUT OF ME! Yeah, they have claws. And they use them.
Mostly they use them to hang on for dear life to the net when we try to put them into the jug. Which I don't understand, because up in the net you are way up in the air with no water or sand, just that stick we talked about earlier and a huge, paralyzing hear of heights. Listen, just let go and get plopped into the jug so we can go back and feed you to turtles. But you already knew that, didn't you crayfish? God, you really are smart.
Now, let's be honest. I am a man. A human man. I have a big, sexy brain sloshing around inside of my skull. And it's connected to miles of nerve endings that tell me that I could easily outsmart you Mr. Crayfish. I could build a crayfish trap, which is pretty much like a minnow trap with a bigger opening. But I am very lazy and don't care to do that. I could put a piece of hot dog on a hook and dangle it in the water and you will latch on to it. But I am cheap. I would rather not have to feed you to catch you. Plus, I want to eat the hot dog myself. So I will be there, wading into the water or perched on top of some rocks with my lacrosse net, well, Turtle Boy's lacrosse net, watching and waiting. Because I might not be smarter than a crayfish, and I might be cheap and lazy, but I am also determined. Very determined. So keep doing your thing. I am hooked up with the biggest and fastest NASA computer and the most integrated, futuristic lacrosse net technology. I will get you. Because the turtles think you are delicious.