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Listener supported. WNYC Studios. Wait, you're listening? Okay. Alright. Okay. Alright. You're listening to Radiolab. Radiolab. Radiolab. From WNYC. See? Yeah. Hey there, Lulu here. So, you know, if someone calls you crabby...
It is not particularly a nice thing. They are saying you're grumpy or prickly or, you know, that you're snapping at them. But I am here today to say that I think we need to re-examine that word, crabby, because if you actually look closely at a crab, if you look inside or on top of that gnarled shell, you will see some pretty positive and incredible things.
And so that's what we're going to do today. We are going to look closely at crabs. We have two really great and really different crab stories that show us how crabs may even hold a little secret to the universe inside, a kind of a way to survive the chaos that is always being tossed our way. You'll see what I mean.
Uh, that's all I'm going to say. I'm going to just pass it over to the Radiolab episode. You'll hear from me and Latif Nasser, who will set up the rest. Okay, here we go. I hope you enjoy. If you've ever stepped foot on an American boardwalk, you've likely encountered a deep fried Oreo, a roller coaster, your surprise still functions, and maybe even a hermit crab.
This is Radiolab. I'm Latif Nasser. And I'm Lulu Miller. And today's episode is a, I guess you could call it a double-decker crab cake. Two stories about crabs that will scuttle all over your brain. And if you stick with them...
end up teaching you something pretty deep about how to be a human on this planet. The first comes to us from our producer, Rachel Cusick. She originally told it live before an audience at Pop-Up Magazine. Lulu and I were both in that audience in different cities. Picture her in a fantastic purple jumpsuit, and behind her is a huge animation of a Ferris wheel and an Oceanside boardwalk.
The first time I saw a hermit crab, I was 11, spending the weekend with my grandpa in Atlantic City. The crab was a boardwalk souvenir tucked inside a shell, painted to look like SpongeBob SquarePants. I didn't know then that that hermit crab wasn't born on a boardwalk or in a pet store or a lab. He was snatched from the wild, likely from Indonesia or Central America, and given a one-way ticket to the armpit of New Jersey.
Virtually every single hermit crab you've ever seen has been stolen from its home in this way. And that's because no one has figured out how to mass breed hermit crabs in captivity. Not even biologist Chris Tudge. I think I could probably honestly say I've done more work on the reproductive biology of hermit crabs than anybody else pretty much ever.
Now, hermit crabs are elusive creatures. They change color and even the shells they call home. They pass through multiple stages and change their shape and their size. And the environmental conditions you need for them are really quite specific.
I first read about all of this in a science article by Samantha Edmonds in the Outline. She says hermit crabs are hard to study, even harder to breed. A few people tried to reproduce them, but none could crack the code of breeding them in large numbers. Partially because we didn't care enough about them to learn. They're not tasty. They're not cute. No one saw enough value in them. Mary came along. They say scaly is the new fluffy.
I don't know. Mary Akers is an artist who fell into hermit crabs a few years back when her last kid left for college. When I became an empty nester, my three kids had graduated. I said, now I can do what I want to do, right? Mary needed hobbies.
She started doing pottery again, and one day a woman in her group said she was looking to offload a hermit crab after her kid lost interest. And I was immediately like, oh, could I? Do I? Will I? I hesitated more because of my husband. And I didn't confess to him right away that I said yes. I said, we're going to crab sit while they go on vacation. Eventually, she came clean to her husband, said she wanted the crab to stay for good.
But she quickly realized she didn't know much about how to care for her new pet. And I googled and I was like, "Oh my gosh, they need friends, they need more room, they need sand, they need real food." She learned they can live for decades if cared for properly. And when she realized her own hermit crab was stolen from its home, she felt a profound sense of injustice. Any other creature that lives 50 years
We think of elephants, we think of whales, we think of even the great tortoises, right? We revere, but we don't do that with hermit crabs. They are literally throwaway pets. These cracks in our world that most of us skip over or never see at all, they suck Mary in. She spent her entire life caring for others, hoping she could protect them if she just loved them hard enough. Now, in these hermit crabs...
Mary found a new space for her love to fill. So Mary went out and bought more hermit crabs, put them in a tank the size of a grand piano, and declared them the new tenants of her daughter's old bedroom. What is that called? Oh, the crabs are in their crab-a-tat. Things escalated. Mary watched them run on a hamster wheel for hours. She'd share her leftovers with them and then give them popcorn as a midnight snack.
She even named each crab, Artemis, Garbo, Lola, then started learning what made them tick. I've noticed that some of them have personalities where they like either the blingier shells, and I have one that likes the green shell pretty much all the time. Sometimes I know, like, he's going to love that shell. Then one day, Mary saw one of her crabs walking funny.
And I got my little flashlight and I shone it in there like, what is that in your, what, do you have a growth? Do you have a tumor? Like, what is that? Well, it was eggs in her shell. And I was like, oh yeah, baby. That summer, Mary's Krabatot morphed into a laboratory. One dedicated to delivering these eggs into crab hood and one that was a daily construction of love.
She built a series of pools so the pregnant crab could pick which water she liked best to release her eggs into. Once the eggs hatched, Mary used a turkey baster to swap out the dirty water the crab swam around in, changing the metaphorical diaper of thousands of baby crabs. All along the way, Mary lingered above her cravatat, pooing to the babies. And these little guys, I think about it sometimes, have been seeing my big moon face...
you know, hovering over them, staring at them. What do they think? Like, am I the landscape of their life? Mary would have a few good days, but then the number of babies would plummet. The crab struggles, their needs. They consumed Mary. What am I not giving them, right? That's the recurring refrain in my head. What do they need? What am I not giving them? She wanted to smooth out every speed bump life put in their way.
Still, the number of babies continued to drop until there were none left. I got to the final stage. That's the closest they get to being a land hermit crab before they're a land hermit crab. She felt gutted, but not wholly defeated. Because the next summer, when one of her crabs waddled with eggs yet again, she got back to work.
I had a plan. I had a lot more things I wanted to try. She built a new kind of tank, grew a different seaweed, bought better foods. She even built a ramp inside one of her tanks to simulate a hermit crab's journey from the ocean onto dry land. But far more radically, Mary did something she really, really does not like to do. I had to figure out how to not care so much
I can't be God. I can't be God. I don't want to be God, right? But I can be the ocean. I can be the ocean. That phrase, be the ocean, it became Mary's companion through all this. A little mantra, which sometimes I recite. Be the ocean. Every time she found herself wanting to rescue the hermit crabs from some amorphous potential harm. Be the ocean.
Mary would imagine the vast waters that raise hermit crabs, how these microscopic specks manage to float around in the maelstrom and make it out the other side. So I would actually agitate them more and move it around and give them like a low tide and a high tide. Today I'm the ocean and today the ocean is dirty and mean. Eventually the babies grew. They survived major milestones. They formed limbs and then flew through the water like Superman.
And then one day, Mary watched a single hermit crab pull its body up onto the staircase and break through the border between water and land. I cried. I wept. I wanted a soundtrack playing. Meanwhile, more crabs kept coming. Mary took out a piece of paper and began making a tally mark for each crab that made it to land. And then by like day five, it's the March of the Penguins, right? I'm like, oh God, okay, there's another one. There's another one.
By the end of the summer, Mary had added 204 new hermit crabs to the world. With a turkey baster and tender loving care, Mary accomplished the impossible. It's been five years since that first hermit crab climbed out of the water in Mary's crabitot. Each year, she breeds a new batch. Some years, she reaches up to 700 crabs. She's bred so many hermit crabs that now she adopts them out, making sure they go to responsible homes.
Learning about all of this, I wondered why it was Mary who could figure out this thing and scientists couldn't. It was the question Chris Tudge asked himself, too. Remember Chris? He's the guy who should have figured out what Mary did but couldn't. Late one night, he found himself reading Mary's blog where she'd been documenting her entire breeding process. And by the end of it, my first impression was, oh my god, she actually did it. The thing Chris found most impressive was Mary's ability to be the ocean.
It's just stunning. You know, you have to keep the waste levels down, you have to keep the oxygen up, the light levels have to be right. The oceans are constantly changing entity. And here she was reproducing the ocean in little tiny bowls. Why is it so hard to recreate? Like, what about it is hard to copy? The chaos.
In the same piece of ocean, there's millions of other species who are trying to do the same thing that need slightly different conditions. So the chaos is benefiting everybody a little bit. That turbulence Mary originally resisted, it's the very thing Chris said the crabs needed to survive. I like to think these hermit crabs gave Mary the chaos she needed to survive too. I could literally all day, every day, do nothing but try to get it perfect.
But that's not best for the crabs. That's definitely not best for me. So it's a balance of how much do I allow myself to feel responsible. If you share your life with another creature, a hermit crab, a human, I think this is the maddening fact we're faced with every day, that our love can only do so much. You're not responsible for everyone. You're not responsible for saving everyone. Life for me, my lesson has always been just love.
Let go, Mary. Let them be crabs. Thank you. Producer Rachel Cusick. We should add real quick, Mary and Chris actually struck up a friendship after Rachel interviewed them for this story. Mary sends Chris photos of her crabs under the microscope. Chris regularly presents at Mary's annual Hermit Crab Conference. Crab Con. He even started up a few projects in his lab inspired by Mary's online Hermit Crab Society. It's beautiful.
Now, when we come back, we are going to go even deeper into that strange relationship between crabs and chaos and ask if it's not just that crabs that need chaos to be born. Like that was the secret ingredient the hermit crabs needed. But does chaos need a crab or like want a crab? Sort of. You'll see. The scientists are going to straighten it out. Stick with us. Don't scuttle away. Radiolab. Lathith. Lulu. Crabs. Hi.
Hello. So on to our next layer of the crab cake, our next crab story. We are here with this Harvard crab scientist, Dr. Joe Wolf. So excited about this, Joe. Yeah, awesome. So the whole thing starts with this kind of
dry scientific crafting project. Joe, along with her colleagues, Heather Brackham Grissom and Javier Luque, wanted to take all the crabs in the world and just make a massive crab family tree. The crab tree of life. So to actually build this crab family tree, they're not taking photos and scrapbooking. They're taking DNA. They sequenced the DNA of
from hundreds of different crabs. Dungeness crabs. Snow crabs. The coconut crab. Huh. They've got... Chesapeake Bay blue crabs. Porcelain crabs. They look more like a lobster. Are lobsters crabs? No, lobsters are not crabs. Okay. Lobsters are lobsters. Okay, sorry. They're hairy crabs, mud crabs, tree crabs. Trees? They're tree crabs?
Yeah. What? In my head, crabs go with water. You're telling me crabs can live in trees. Yeah. Amazing. So they're putting all this data into some super powerful computer. And when they're done, they press a button.
And they're watching this computer build this tree. Branches and branches and crabs and crabs. It would have been great if it was like that, but no, it was less dramatic. It was more like... You put all your data in, you press a button, and you wait. For a pretty long time. For like months. Whoa. The computer takes a while to do its thing. And then you get the email and it's like, your analysis is finished. And it is shortly after that that they realize...
Crabs have evolved five separate times. What does that mean? Like on five completely different branches from creatures that are not crabs. Five different times, the crab form has evolved. It's just like, it's like, here's a crab over here. Here it is over there. Whoa, way over there. And the thing that you're saying, and it's the body shape is what we're talking about. So it's like this body shape is
Came up again and again. A pancake, a pancake with 10 legs, two of which, at least two of which have pinchers. Yeah, yeah, exactly. That these multiple different lineages that start from things that are kind of different turn out to look kind of the same. That's just weird, right? This is why I called Jo. Because when she published that paper, the internet...
Freaked out. Creatures that are not related to crabs are eventually evolving into crab-like shapes. People are making TikToks. So we're talking like shrimp and lobster and other crustaceans. All of them are evolving into similar forms. There were... I could be hurtful, I could be purple, I could evolve into a crab. Songs. I could be crab, I could be crab.
It seemed to open this speculative trap door. My first thought is, when am I going to be a crab? You know, when are wolves going to be crabs, right? I mean, literally tens of thousands of likes and comments. Everything is slowly turning into a crab. That were converging around a pretty similar interpretation, which was honestly the one that I had, which was basically, does evolution want a crab?
Is it just like right for life? What this also means is that statistically speaking, there are space crabs out there somewhere in the universe. I think crabs might be Mother Nature's favorite shape. I mean, it's such a surprise to me that it became a meme.
Okay, not to denigrate the scientists who put a lot of... I think it's super fascinating, sort of the evolutionary tree that they're building. The crab appearing five times? I don't know. I don't see it as a profound thing. Five times out of how many times? Out of how many things that have been created? Is it so crazy that...
bats fly and birds fly and they figured out how to do that separately. Or like, like giraffes have long necks, but also brachiosauruses had long necks. Or like worms are like long and stringy and snakes are long and stringy. Like you're like, oh, okay. Like, yeah, it makes sense. Like with the crabs, I don't know. It doesn't seem so much crazier than all the other stuff. Okay. But like you're talking about a neck or a wing, like one body part, one nifty adaptation. What?
With the crabs, it's like this whole complex situation. You've got multiple limbs, some of which have pinchers and a little pancake body and googly eyes and you often walk sideways. It's like a very bizarre beast that keeps rising from the ocean again and again and again and again and again. Right. And so inaccurate, wild speculations aside about what that means.
for all life, where all life is heading, a real scientific question remains, which is why does it keep reappearing? Like, what does the crabby shape actually help you with? What does it give you? Yeah, right. Right. So what is it good for? So Javier Luque has thought a lot about this, and he said that scientists think a very important clue is
lies in this one moment about 100 million years ago. It was a world that was warming up. It became really, really hot. The temperature of the globe rose several degrees. The poles melted. So it raised also the sea level several hundred meters.
And those floodings also made very shallow seas that can get into the land. It was a moment that looked eerily like the one we're entering now. And like now, a bunch of species began dying off. Some lobsters and shrimp dwindled. Because they just couldn't survive all that change.
But crabs... They irradiated and bursted all over the world. Scientists think that that goofy, leggy, complex body shape is what allowed crabs to MacGyver their way into surviving. They can use their body as a Swiss Army knife with a bunch of different tools. So the legs, you know, they can...
scuttle on land, of course, but they can also swim or fight or grab prey. Some of those legs grab a sea urchin, an anemone, and just use them as hats.
and camouflage themselves. Whoa! And that sleek little pancake body, it helps them hide from predators way better than, say, lobsters with that big honking tail to grab. And then there are all these subtler parts we don't really see, like these incredible gill-like things that allow them to breathe in both air and water, which lets them live, like, anywhere. They can live underwater. They can live on beaches. They can live in marshes. They can live in rocky shores. They can live in trees.
So that, like... How do they climb the tree? That's the thing I don't understand. I mean, I don't know, dude. If you've got 10 legs, it makes it a little easier, right? But they're so little, like, they can't hug the tree. Like, they don't... Yeah, but if you weigh nothing, you just, like... Then you just... Like, how do beetles climb a tree? Why does every bug climb a tree? Because it has 100 legs and it weighs nothing. I don't know.
Sorry. No, it's a good argument. I'm like angry at you, but I actually don't have, I'm like, duh, but I don't know why. Okay, keep going, keep going. But let me just lay on the grand point here. The scientists think that what the crab body plant actually gets you, the reason it keeps evolving again and again is that it's niche. The thing it is particularly good at is change, upheaval, chaos, which Javier thinks will give crabs an edge.
in whatever world we humans are making for all of us. If we keep the world as we are going, we are going to be gone from here in the not-so-distant future. But crabs might start becoming more creative and using things and playing with sticks. Who knows? Give enough time, they might become the next us. So give enough time, we probably won't become crabs. We'll more likely become obsolete and the crabs will keep surviving. Exactly, exactly.
This episode was reported by Rachel Cusick and Lulu Miller and produced by Becca Bressler with help from McKeddie Foster-Keys. With mixing help from Arianne Wack. It was edited by Pat Walters, who would love us all to take a brief hiatus on pitching crab stories. Yeah. No promises, Walters. No promises.
Rachel's Pop-Up Magazine piece had live music by Mina Choi and the Magic Magic Orchestra with sound design by Jeremy Bloom. Special thanks to Heather Bracken Grissom and her Crab Lab at Florida International University, Franz Anthony, and the entire team at Pop-Up Magazine, Randy Rochan, Jen Pachenik, Renee Brody, Samantha Edmonds, whose story from the outline introduced us to Mary. Thank you.
And that will do it for today. Thank you so much for listening. Swim on, brave crabbies. More stories about this lumpy, old, watery, old planet of ours in two weeks.
Hi, I'm Emma, and I live in Portland, Maine. Here are the staff credits. Radiolab was created by Jad Abumrad and is edited by Soren Wheeler. Lulu Miller and Latif Nasser are our co-hosts. Dylan Keefe is our director of sound design. Our staff includes Simon Adler, Jeremy Bloom, Becca Bressler, W. Harry Fortuna, David Gable, Maria Paz Gutierrez, Sindhu Jnanasambandam, Matt Kielty,
Our fact checkers are Diane Kelly, Emily Krieger, and Natalie Middleton. Thank you.
Hey, Al!
teeth do coyotes have? Uh, I don't know. Well, do you know how high a coquifrog can jump? I don't even know what those are. Dang. What about, okay, camels? Do you know anything about camels? Not really, but that's what badger questions are for. Right.
One of our favorite segments of Terrestrials is where we all stop talking and the badgers, a.k.a. the kids with badgering questions, get to ask our experts everything they're dying to know. And we need some of those for our upcoming episodes. We're looking for questions about coyotes, rats, coquifrogs, camels, and farts. Farts.
Email us a voice recording of your question along with your name, age, location, and you just might hear your badgering voice on an upcoming episode of Terrestrials. And where can they send those, Alan? Terrestrials at WNYC.org. That's T-E-R-R-E-S-T-R-I-A-L-S at WNYC.org.