Feeding time at our zoo, Isla Mujeres, Mexico

While typing out a list of ‘how to’ instructions for friends who are babysitting Sparky and our house for a few weeks, we noticed we had included several references to critters other than Sparky.  

There are a myriad of instructions on the care and feeding of our free-roaming collection of pets that inhabit our small bit of the island.

We have Geek the Kitchen Gecko, who lives behind the fridge, and gives me a loud chuk, chuk, chuk greeting every morning when I turn on the coffee maker.

Geek the Kitchen Gecko

Geek doesn’t require a lot of maintenance, except that he likes a shallow dish of clean water to be available on the kitchen counter. A few times, when he has tried to catch a drip from the kitchen tap, it has resulted in a traumatic drop into a slippery-sided enclosure with no traction for his Velcro-like feet. Rather than chase a panicky lizard around the sink, we have settled on letting him use the former-hand soap dish as a drinking bowl. 

Occasionally we pull the fridge away from the wall and vacuum his house, taking care not to suction him up with the poop. In return for our acceptance of his requirements, Geek the Gecko does his best to eliminate mosquitoes and ants. 

King of the Beach - Thomas the Cat 

Before our famous seventeen-year-old Thomas the Cat passed away in April of 2016, there was a succession of kitchen geckos who had a brief and tension-filled existence. 

We intensely miss our Tommy, but the household geckos had a disco party in celebration of his passing.

While Geek patrols the interior of our house, the larger lizards inhabit underground burrows outside. 

There is a herd of about twenty-five iguanas that mooch bits of fruit, veggies, and leftover pet food. (The collective noun for a group of lizards is a lounge of lizards!) They are similar to beach dogs, keeping a watchful eye on movements at Casa Rosa, Casa Luna, our house, Casa K’aay Há, and Punta Piedra. 

Any indication that someone

Stumpy the Iguana is about 15 years old 

might be willing to feed them, and the whole group will converge in a scurrying mass hoping to be the lucky one who gets the piece of mango, or papaya. 

They like to leave the boring broccoli or celery bits for the night-time beach-cleaning crew, the hermit crabs.

The free-roaming hermit crabs number in the hundreds. They are the most labour-intensive of our outdoor zoo critters. 

Hernando the hermit crab - we think!

Hermit crabs require a daily supply of fresh, clean water in dishes, shallow enough to be accessible to small creatures, an assortment of scraps to dine on, and a steady supply of new shells to move into as they outgrow their current domicile. 

Hermit crabs don’t create their own shells and must find larger homes on average every six months. Only certain shapes meet their requirements for comfort and accessibility. 

The black and white turbo snail shells are their favourites, but the Hermit Crabs are in direct competition with tourists who also collect the beautiful and increasingly

Hermit crab using a Pond's Cold Cream jar

 rare shells. Over the years, we have purchased hundreds of substitute shells for the Hermit Crab shell exchange program at our crab-i-tat. The crabs take one – leave one. 

We usually mark the purchased shells with red, orange, or bright pink nail polish so that we can identify our frequent visitors. And of course, since they are regularly swapping shells, it is virtually impossible to recognize a particular Hermit Crab. You can never be certain of who you are chatting with!

Regular visitors 

And then there are the birds that visit every afternoon for a drink of clean water and a feather-cleaning bath. Soon after we moved here in 2008, we swept out the natural indents in the coral rocks just in front of our house. 

The birds quickly learned to rely on us for fresh water, happily congregating for a few minutes of social time in the late afternoon before heading to their roosting spots for the night. Even the iguanas, larger hermit crabs, or passing cats and dogs drink from the pools.

Sparky star of Treasure Isla, waiting for the sequel

As for the instructions for looking after our almost-famous divo, Sparky, well, those took up three full pages of computer printing. 

We did mention he is a divo, a pampered, but we think very lovable, brat.

Being zookeepers at our house is almost a full-time job.

Hasta Luego

Lynda, Lawrie, and Sparky

Isla Mujeres Mystery series

or 

Death in the Vineyards

Hernando’s frightful encounter!

Hernando on our table

Whispered sounds sifted across the sand.  Something very large was headed his way.  A bright light swept across the beach, momentarily blinding him. Clack!  He quickly tucked his legs inside his house, slamming his large front claw across the entrance, barricading his front door against predators.  Quivering inside his home, Hernando waited, listening to the approaching noises. Would he survive this night? Would he live to see another dawn? “Please don’t let them eat me,” he whispered. “I don’t taste good. I’m all shell. Please spare me.”

Suddenly, he was being lifted up, off the sand. Oh no, was this the end? More noise and bright lights, and he was placed inside a large metal container. This really was the end. He was going to be cooked and eaten! Hernando struggled mightily against the steep metal sides, trying to escape, scrabbling frantically. Then, oddly enough, a beautiful new shell was carefully placed beside him in the container. “What?” he wondered, “What just happened?” 

Exchanging shells in the kitchen sink.

Cautiously, Hernando touched the new shell with his front claws, feeling for a trap. Or worse yet, perhaps a larger creature lurked inside, hoping to catch him for its meal.  Hernando gently turned the shell over, and over, exploring the edges and looking for flaws or holes. It had black, yellow, and white stripes with a gentle curl to the right, and a smooth interior.  

Hernando quickly pulled his slim tubular body from his current shell and spiralled into the new one.  It was a perfect fit, with slightly less weight to carry around, but with room to grow for the next year or so.  And then the big hand reached for him again. The hand placed him inside a different container where he again scrambled and clawed at the sides, hoping to escape certain death. Suddenly, he was set back down on the sand near dozens of his friends. The others were enjoying a feast of tasty food and bathing in clean, shallow pools. Heaven, he was in Hermit Crab Heaven. It was the only possible explanation.

Other hermit crabs exchanging shells

Hernando’s first instinct was to scamper away and hide in the nearby bushes, but once he realized he was not being pursued, he stopped. He turned around and rejoined the party on the beach. Scattered on the sand were dozens of shells in various sizes and colours. Straggly lines of Hermit Crabs, ordered from largest to smallest, clutched the next-in-line crab. 

Hernando knew what this was; he had experienced this many times. It was a shell exchange! 

As soon as the largest crab in the line chose a new shell and decided that it was a good fit, it then released its tight grip on its current house, allowing the now-empty shell to be taken by the next crab in the line.  Eventually, during the evening, as many as eight or nine trades per shell would take place, allowing most of the crabs to secure a newer, bigger shell.  Some would be disappointed, not finding a better shell.  

Pond's Cold Cream Jar being used as shell

Hernando knew that not having any shell was the very worst outcome for a Hermit Crab.  The shells were necessary to protect their fragile bodies from being battered by the rough ground. They were necessary to carry a supply of water and to keep them safe from predators. 

He had made do with a variety of objects in his ten or more years of life. (He wasn’t really certain how old he was. None of the crabs knew how to count, and some of his relatives had lived a lot more years than he had.) In past seasons, he had lived in a plastic bottle top, a glass pill bottle, and, more recently, a white jar that had held a smelly sticky substance before he moved into it. Life was tough for a Hermit Crab. But, he, Hernando, already had a gorgeous new shell, so he ignored the shell line-ups and headed straight to the food.

The thing was, thought Hernando as he munched his food, they were called Hermit Crabs, but really they were very sociable creatures.  They enjoyed meeting up on the beach, touching and exploring with feelers and claws, identifying friends and family. 

The only time things got a bit tense was during the shell exchanges; some of the impatient crabs could get downright nasty if they didn’t get the shell they wanted.  Occasionally, a scuffle would break out, but it was quickly settled when one or the other of the crabs grabbed the shell and scurried away. 

Walked 8 houses. I mark shells with nailpolish

Some evenings Hernando roamed a large area, travelling a very long distance in search of food. And one time he travelled past the green house, past the long white house, past the orange house, past another white house, all the way to the yellow house. The large inhabitant of that house thought he was interesting and picked him up to have a better look.  “What the heck is wrong with these creatures?” Hernando muttered, waving his antennas in agitation. “Don’t they understand that this big front claw can do serious damage to those soft pink sticks they use to poke at me?  I am a seriously mean dude!” 

Same crab showing my red dot, MW photo

Back at the Crab-i-tat, where the beach party was still in progress, the Hermit Crabs gobbled down the free food.  However, there was always a downside to the free gifts. It was frequent and terrifying visits from the large creatures that inhabited this area, flashing their bright lights across the sand and shouting: “Oh, look at this one! He’s huge!”  

Well, he grudgingly admitted to himself, maybe he wasn’t all that scary to the big creatures. He was the one who had slammed his large front claw across the mouth of his shell, hiding, quivering in fear. 

After terrifying the wits out of him for a few minutes, they left him alone again to enjoy the rest of the evening with his Hermit Crab friends. He had survived another frightful encounter, and he was getting bigger every year. 

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Isla Mujeres Mystery Series

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Death in the Vineyards Mysteries

The Adventures of Thomas and Sparky

What the heck is that?



2005, the first encounter with a Hermit Crab

One beautiful star-lit evening, we were enjoying a glass of wine on the beach with family members. I heard a strangled yelp from my spouse.  Something large and round, about the size of my fist, was cruising along the sand. When exposed to the camera's flash, it turned out to be a large hermit crab, out looking for a tasty late-night dinner. Pretty cool creature. And so began my fascination with hermit crabs.

It's a fascination that has become an obsession, an obsession sparked by a casual comment of a guest at a nearby rental property. Apparently, once the minuscule hermit crab babies leave the ocean to live on land, they are constantly on the lookout for new shells. They are unable to grow their own shells and must find progressively larger shells that have been discarded or washed up on the beach.  

Water, some cat food - and they will come!

She suggested that I leave a variety of shells in one location for the crabs to choose from, and they might switch for something bigger or better. We did that and very shortly discovered that the word was out in the hermit crab world, finding a dozen or so crabs checking out the shells on a nightly basis. From then on, every shelling foray onto the beach was based on finding only perfect shells for hermit crabs, adding them to the Crab-i-tat. (Yes, I have named the location where I stockpile shells, drinking water and occasionally food for the hermit crabs.)

The best shells for hermit crabs

The best shells for crab houses are the ones that hermit crabs will have a hard time resisting. The 'crème de la crème' of hermit crab shells have a smooth mother-of-pearl interior, nice heft, perfect coil to the right (who knew a hermit crab could tell left from right?) The mother-of-pearl is easy on the soft abdominal skin, while the thickness of the shell insulates the crab from predators and temperature extremes. The shells must be intact, with no holes, as the crab needs to carry water inside the shell to maintain its health.

Broken, holed, plastic bottle caps, trade-ins.

The worst shells are the ones that a crab will cast off, in a heartbeat. These shells are uncomfortable because they are thin-walled and do not offer much protection from the elements, or perhaps the coil of the shell is awkward for the crab to maneuver, or has a rough interior, or there are holes in the shell. I have had a variety of weird things left behind as a hermit crab castoff - the funniest being a broken bottle neck with a metal screw-on cap still attached. In the crab's world, it's a bit like trading in a rusty, broken-down camper-van for the new top-of-the-line bus-style RV.

Went walk-about from our house to our friends, 10 lots north

After a few months of supplying crab houses, I started marking the shells that I supplied with red, purple, blue or orange nail polish so that I could keep track of "my" hermit crabs.  We have had various neighbours, including friends who live 10 lots north of our house, tell us that they saw one of the marked large hermit crabs on their property. Ten lots may not sound like much, but when you are the size of an orange - crawling that distance with your house on your back is a pretty big adventure.

Two hermit crabs stealing a quick snack from our cats' kibble

Fortunately, the cats don't bother the hermit crabs because they are no fun to harass - merely snapping back into their shells with a loud clack when poked by a furry paw. My little Mexican cat, Chica, delights in slapping the crabs (like mini hockey pucks) along the patio in the evenings. Occasionally, a crab or two will wander into our house looking for cat food or a refreshing bath in the cats' water dish. This does not sit well with our two spoiled felines.

The embarrassing part of this whole fascination is that I can no longer keep up with shells from beach combing. We have in excess of 300 crabs visiting the Crab-a-tat regularly. I now have a local shell supplier who makes house calls once a month to restock my supplies, and various friends have dropped off donations of shells that they have found!

It's a little out of hand, but what the heck, it's a harmless obsession.

Hasta pronto, Lynda and Lawrie

Grab your copy today!

Isla Mujeres Mystery Series

Or

Death in the Vineyards Mysteries

The Adventures of Thomas and Sparky