Not having gotten to go to a beach until I was an adult (and even then it was because I was in the Miss Texas U.S.A. pageant, so I was really there to work) there are tons of things about which I still do not know — like sandbars. I was astounded that way out past where my feet could no longer touch there were people who were clearly standing. I will never forget the first time we took the baby in and my husband, who had been fortunate enough to have spent his early childhood in the Caribbean, casually said, “Just watch out for the undertow.” I was already petrified of stinging jellyfish, pinching crabs, and whatever other sort of creatures inhabited the waters. Once in a lake at church camp when I was in high school I freaked out because some type of long fish brushed against my leg. I didn’t scream; I was just silently, completely, and thoroughly unnerved. I love animals — all of them; but unless the water is very clear one does not really know what to expect. I decided this would be the year I conquered my secret fear and I swam confidently out to the sandbar that stretched its way parallel to the shoreline, dividing the water from a lighter greenish color to a deep, dark, mysterious blue. I could see the line of white sand, which proved to be far wider than I had first thought, and at last I was able to touch down. Immediately I felt a dreaded strange something underneath my feet. Trying not to recoil, I just wanted to make sure I had not hurt whatever it was. My husband was with me and he dove down to try and uncover it. In the meantime, I felt another one of the strange somethings and I bravely decided to scoop it up with my feet by going underneath it in the sand and putting it on the top of my foot. At the same time, my husband and I emerged triumphantly with sand dollars! They were scratchy and brown and I had only ever seen them smooth, somewhat brittle, and white. I quickly realized they would die without the sea and I was not going to be among those horrible people who allowed them to suffer a tortuous death just so they could bring them home as souvenirs. Luckily, I had my shelling bag with me and we carefully placed them inside to swim back in closer with our little girl so I could capture this sweet picture. Of course after that we promptly swam back out and gently placed them where we’d found them. We all noticed then that our fingers and palms had turned yellow after holding them. It turns out they produce a harmless substance called echinochrome. I was so relieved they were back where they belonged! One of the women whom I admire the most is the American oceanographer Sylvia Earle, who said:
“On a sea floor that looks like a sandy mud bottom, that at first glance might appear to be sand and mud, when you look closely and sit there as I do for a while and just wait, all sorts of creatures show themselves, with little heads popping out of the sand. It is a metropolis.”
For just a few moments, we got to connect with a part of the ocean’s ecosystem. Briefly holding all those sand dollars definitely made us feel rich.
