Horsefoot’n
The mere mention of such a word “horsefoot’n” could send any linguist running for the barn. Yet, it’s a word familiar to baymen. Horsefoot’n is the act of gathering horseshoe crabs for harvest, to be used as bait to catch eels, spearing, crabs or killies, etc. Horseshoe crabs’ eggs are what baitfish, baymen, and shorebirds are after. It’s been the preferred bait to attract all types of marine life as far back as maritime history has been recorded. Horseshoe crabs, known to baymen as (Horsefeet) are the most basic and fundamental link in the marine food chain. They are living fossils that have remained unchanged for over 445 million years and predate dinosaurs. Technically they are not crabs at all but arthropods, some of the oldest living things on our planet. The horseshoe-shaped design of their shells hasn’t changed in millions of years because this species has achieved complete perfection in its fulfillment and function in the natural world.
Each year during the new and full moons in May horsefeet haul up onto beaches and shorelines to reproduce along the entire east coast of America from Florida to Maine. The larger female crabs sometimes two feet in diameter are pursued by multiple smaller male crabs which attach themselves to the female to fertilize the eggs she lays in the sand and mud bottom.
Each female can lay numerous batches of eggs (each nest can contain 4000 eggs) throughout a single night of spawning. This will continue night after night, it sometimes results in the laying of a minimum of 100,000 eggs. During the mating season, the beaches are awash with these eggs the size of the head of a pin. The eggs contain an enormous amount of protein that many living things depend upon for survival. Shorebirds traveling from their wintering grounds in Antarctica to nesting grounds in Canada time their journey to coincide with the horseshoe crabs egg laying so they can fuel up along the way to complete their migration.
The vast majority of small baitfish that grow in our bays feed on these eggs. They in turn spawn in our bays which feed all the larger predator fish which in turn feed our oceans and us all.
To see this massive copulation of thousands of these crabs is an unforgettable sight. Aside from the sound of thousands of their shells clunking together, the intensity at which they pursue their predestined act, the rich foam in the water, and a pungent scent in the air, leaves your nose wide open.
Each May I would work with Pop to gather a total of about eighteen hundred horsefeet. It was always done late in the day at high tide, the air was usually still and the gnats and mosquitoes were thick. We would fill our boats to the top then slowly motor to the bay house where Pop had several floating horsefoot pens. These pens would be filled to the point that he had enough bait to last the Summer season.
Pop would cut up these crabs into halves, quarters then eights on a table with a huge three-foot blade on a hinge he designed and welded together himself. As he did eggs would spill out. Shorebirds would gather at his feet picking up the off-falls, gnats filled the air to a blur around him. Pop would stand there in short sleeve shirt, arms black with gnats completing his task with unwavering focus never complaining or even whipping them clean. To this day I think about that and connect the fact that, where ever insects are thick, fishing is good. One of life’s simple truths.
Killies loved the roe. When you lifted a killie pot baited with horsefoot the killies spilled out by the hundreds. Pop’s pots were always abundantly full and his business was good. He was known for having the best bait, screening out the young ones to grow and reproduce. Never over-harvesting.
One summers evening Pop and I were at the bay house finishing up our work for the day. There was always work to be done. Up pulls a boat, with two guys in green uniforms they tied up, stepped out, and walked up the dock. They seemed friendly enough. After a chat with Pop about what he was doing. I remember them saying, “one day you won’t be able to do this anymore”. Pop and I looked at each other then we looked at them. I’m sure they knew what we were thinking.
Pop later said to me “Well I guess this is the beginning of the end.” I then didn’t know what he was talking about. I do now.