When I moved to Maryland, I became a fisherman, early in the morning, to catch as I can. When crabbing season was open, I was out on the pier, with my arctic cooler, and my fishing gear.
Our Cal 225, was docked at the pier, it was like home, when we hung out here. Sleep aboard pocket cruiser, to go out on the bay, we'd sleep under the foredeck, and not sleep on the hay.
The crabs would mate, on the pilings tall, I'd scoop my net, to try and capture them all. In the early morning, the pilings were full, and I kept busy, using my net, and saying "cool."
The females were capitals, and you threw them back in, but the males were monuments, and they'd find the cooler bin. I loved the idea, of letting females go, the males were going home, to get steamed "like I know."
It all seemed therapeutic, to me in a way, letting females go out, and have their fun day. It was a riot, when I pulled them in, sometimes they'd escape, from the net they were in.
They would walk sideways, on the pier for me to chase, and usually I met them, and that would be my ace. By the time I finished, I had a cooler quite full, home to go steaming, and then it was time to pull.
I'd steam the crabs, and pull them out, cool them down, and set down to work out. I'd have my crab cracker, and go to town, it was a lot of work, but it was fun to be around.
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