Although the little hermit crabs that day didn’t know it, they had nothing to fear from me — or at least.. That was what I told myself. I was young, possibly in middle school, and we were on one of our outings to Galveston beach. Even though the sea there was a yucky brown, the crabs didn’t seem to mind the ambience of their home. They were plentiful in fact, from the white ones that darted across the sand at night, to the snail shelled ones that snuggled under the hum of crashing waves.
It was these very hermit crabs that I discovered as I curled my toes in the sand. My inner animal lover was absolutely delighted to pick them up.
They, on the other hand, withdrew into their shells, peering at me with a look that suggested they were most likely worried that I would eat them.
Although I had no intention of eating any of them, there were other plans on my young mind. Unfortunately for the crabs, I did want to enjoy them at home, away from the beach. This idea didn’t pan out so well for the hermit crabs.
So what was the idea? Well, at the time, it seemed reasonable to me that I could simply scoop them up, drive them home, and put them in the sandbox outside to keep as pets. After all, the Galveston gift store presented many hermit crabs for sale in a sand terrarium. So, didn’t that mean that unearthing wild hermit crabs from their sandy abodes was a way to get a bunch of pets for free? My mom didn’t seem to mind the idea since I’d agreed to take care of them (and as far as she was probably concerned, outdoor pets didn’t pose as much hardship).
With the plan set, I scurried through the waves, harvesting hermit crabs in my sand pails with as much joy as I had with blackberries the previous summer. I took as many as I could find, which ended up being about 50 of them. They crawled on top of each other in their pails as we drove home, scrabbling the sides to look for any escape.
When we got home, I carefully placed them in the sandbox and decorated their new home. I was so excited to have a bunch of new pets, and that night in my dreams I had already started naming them and planning shell upgrades for them.
The next day, I hopped out of bed and dashed down the stairs and out the backdoor to check on our little crabs. But as I approached the sandbox, a terrible stench smacked me, stopping me in my tracks. Salt, rotting seaweed, and death. Opening the hatch of the sandbox revealed the strewn, helpless bodies.
I was devastated. Even to this day I still feel a stone in the pit of my stomach when I think about the massacre I helped bring about.
Even though I had the best intentions, and never wanted to harm the little crabs, I think it was my mindset that started that whole chain of events. In the back of my mind was the unconscious belief, “I am stronger or more intelligent than animals, so my preferences matter more than their autonomy. Animals are here for my purposes and use.”
Later on in life it was a huge shift in mindset to ask myself what was in the hermit crabs’ best interest, and what I could do to both accommodate them and my own needs. Their basic consideration was never even contemplated, because at the core, I believed I was better than them, and I mattered more.
If I had ever thought to ask the question, “What could I do to accommodate those hermit crabs,” it’s pretty obvious that leaving them where they were so that not only me, but they too can enjoy their lives, is the best way to treat them. I don’t even have to know what a hermit crab needs, what it looks like, or have even met one to come to that conclusion. Even at the age of 10. And the reality is that if I wanted to see them again, it was certainly possible to revisit Galveston and go digging in the sand. This would have accommodated both my interests and theirs.
For most of my life, I was very convinced that the only way to help animals was to have them as pets, because otherwise there would be no bond. Without a bond, how could one care for animals? Why would you worry about their welfare if you never even knew them? This also rationalized certain behavior, such as taking animals from their homes, because I was under the impression that creating a bond with hermit crabs would allow me to care more about them in general.
Well, I’ve discovered that for me, animal welfare is much more adequately provided for by just giving them basic consideration. All I have to do is ask myself, “What does someone else need in this moment? What do I need? How can I make sure that both needs are accounted for?” If they’re an animal who can’t speak, imagining what they need is enough to provide basic consideration.
And this mindset has a powerful ripple effect on the treatment of not just animals, but other people too, as I’ve discovered. As just one example, I am an art teacher and often work with children. If my initial mindset approaches my own needs as being preferential to others, I can rationalize inconsiderate behavior of mine easily, such as yelling at them to stop talking, punishing them for stepping out of line, and criticizing any moment of disharmony. After all, I need a quiet environment to teach, right?
But when I ask myself what is in the childrens’ best interest, I can’t even imagine doing any of those things. I can be more patient with them, and come up with alternate ways to ensure all of our needs are being met. One example that I do now with this mindset is ask everyone in the classroom to contribute to a group-written set of rules so that we can all have a great experience together. When someone isn’t following those rules, I point out the things that they helped write, and they are incentivized to want to work cohesively as a result. This kind of thing wouldn’t have occurred to me if I didn’t consider their basic interests first, instead of just my own.
So, for me, the same mindset applies for prying away a bunch of wild hermit crabs from their livelihoods, as if they’re just simple fruits off a vine. When I think about how I treated them, I feel so much shame and guilt. I had never meant to hurt them, but also I had never considered their autonomy either. I was more concerned about my preferences, and rationalized my behavior as a result. I think it was my mindset that ultimately led harm to the crabs. And it’s made me wonder whether this mindset I inherited might be underpinning the harm that many residents on this planet face.
RIP, little crabs. I’m sorry that you had to suffer and then lose your lives over my inconsequential, passing interest in hermit crab keeping. I thank you for teaching me an important lesson about empathy.