Long Legs

by Richard and Esther Provencher
Illustrations by Jerry Shippee

 

“Why don’t you boys come clamming with me?” Dad asked.

“With my skinny big brother?” Matthew answered.  But then, no one else was around and he liked having someone to tease, even if his brother was a year older.

 Travis would be his perfect victim today.

Caribou Island was across a bridge, about two miles north of Pictou, Nova Scotia.  After parking their car, three determined clam diggers headed for the waiting ocean.

A long sandy beach left behind from the retreating tide was perfect for today’s outing.

Near the end of October was the best time for clam digging, although it meant braving a cold wind.  Each person carried a bucket to hold clams and something to dig with.

Matthew brought a curved shovel.

 Travis had the loan of a short pitchfork.

Their Dad couldn’t wait to try out his new three-pronged homemade spear.  He also carried the largest pail.

“Dad thinks he’s going to get the most clams,” Matthew huffed.  “But I’m going to surprise him today.”

“I only want a couple for Mom,” Travis said.  He was too shy to admit he really didn’t enjoy clam digging.  “Besides, they taste yucky.”

But Matthew didn’t bother answering.

Now the tide was fully out.  The sand stretched behind them.

Above the visitors, Seagulls and Cormorants flew in circles. They were also searching for tasty clams.

Ocean water rippled nearby.

“COOL!” Matthew shouted.  “Two Ocean Quahogs!  Right on top of the sand!  I saw them first, so they’re mine.”

 Travis remembered they were often called “Sea Clams”.

 Matthew was quicker than a sea gull and pounced greedily.  He rushed around searching for more, as water spouts shot up from beneath the moist sand.

They dug eagerly, searching for more prizes.  Both of them kept bumping into each other with their digging tools.

 Matthew curled his lips.  “Watch it!” he shouted.  “See what you’ve done!”  He picked up a mashed shell and held it to Travis’s face.

“This is a waste of a good clam,” Matthew said angrily.

 He continued to grumble as he dug furiously.  He had to get more clams than his Dad.  Finally, Travis walked further along the shore.

“Now this place is all mine!” Matthew shouted.  Except  his hands were freezing in the cold wind.  Now he remembered his gloves left behind in the car.

After awhile, Matthew looked up and noticed Dad working his way closer to the mainland.  “Probably only baby-sized clams there,” he muttered.

 He didn’t realize the tide was beginning to return.

But he kept finding larger clams in this new spot.  Time passed swiftly as he kept digging them up.  Suddenly the ocean was lapping at  his boots.

Why is Dad waving? he wondered.

“Just a few more clams!” Matthew yelled, wondering if  his Dad had even heard.  He continued to dig before these new waterspouts were covered from the ocean.

Why is the tide returning so soon? he asked aloud. 

The wind had changed direction, increasing in velocity.  Seagulls circled the returning tide.  ERK! ERK! calls were warning sounds to other members of the flock.

 Matthew wasn’t paying attention.  He was digging up a new group of clams.  They did not seem to mind if the once-dry sand bar was being covered in seawater.

Finally his bucket was full.  Time to drag his heavy load to the car.  He had collected quite a few Quahogs, Mussels and Razor Clams.

Star-shaped and coin-shaped sea treasures lay on top, along with a few red sand worms.  Matthew knew they would be useful to scare his classmates.

Once again, Matthew heard Dad calling.  Now he understood how much the tide closed in around the huge sandy bar.  Matthew answered frantically, “Coming! I’m coming!”

The wind carried those same words of alarm to Travis.  He couldn’t believe how swiftly the space between sand and shore began filling with water.

There was a scared look on Matthew’s face, as he tried lifting the heavy bucket.  Matthew wasn’t leaving all this work behind.

Then the force of rising tide tipped his bucket over.  And cold Atlantic Ocean water sloshed over Matthew’s rubber boots.

“Travis!  Help me!” he shouted.

 He knew he was responsible for chasing his brother away, by being mean to him.  All he wanted right now was help returning to shore.

Some distance away, Matthew’s Dad waded towards him.

 

“Don’t worry Dad!  I’ll get him!” Travis hollered.  His long legs came in really handy.  Leaping strides across the water made him look like a running deer.

Except Travis was rushing towards deeper water.  And danger.  But, he had to help Matthew.

 Matthew stood still in the freezing ocean, now up to his knees.  He was afraid.

As Travis reached Matthew, one firm grip heaved him onto his back.   Thankfully, Matthew wasn’t too heavy as Travis pushed through waist-high water, towards shore.

Neither of them were worried about leaving their clam buckets.

Their Dad guided them back.  He knew high points along the sand dunes would help them.  Then he breathed a sigh of relief as he helped lead them both to safety.

Everyone was wet, cold and exhausted as they fell in a wet heap on the mainland.  Three sets of lungs gasped heavily.

“You’re really strong,” Matthew said.

“I had lots of practice,” Travis answered.  “I’m the one who usually carries the heavy knapsack on our family campouts.”

 Matthew knew Dad figured his children had just come through a bad scare.  His brother probably saved his life.

Their father wrapped a blanket over each of them.  “Time for us to get home and into dry clothes,” he said.

“Hey Travis?” Matthew asked.

“Wh…what?”  Travis answered through shivering lips.

“I’m glad you have long skinny legs.”