THE CARNIVOROUS CRAWDADS

     OF CRAVENBROOK CREEK

Mitchell: People in Dramen enjoy sunny summer weather that brings that favorite of all seasons....fishing season. Cravenbrook Creek, which winds down through the middle of town to join the Cedar River, is often crowded with anglers hoping to reap the muddy water of its harvest. On a good day there are crappie, bass, and even bluegills to be found, but on a bad day its easier to pull out a fish story. One such tale is a near legend in the area. I'm a state biologist, and my name is Cal Remson, and this is one story I swear is true.

     I've always been a big fan of fishing up the creek, away from the main flow of the river. I like the local color, the chit-chat with the other anglers, and the wildlife you're gonna see around Cravenbrook. You could swear God himself spat on the place to give it his blessing. I was in that area on business in June of '83, running a few tests, looking for nitrates and groundwater contamination. I had just pulled out a water sample when this kid comes running up to me waving his arms and pantin' to beat the band. I thought he was gonna pass out, 'cause he stumbled and fell and didn't get up for few seconds.

     I went to help him up and he looked at me and pointed back the way he come. He started yellin' at me, saying, "Oh, Gawd! They got 'im! They got 'im! Jeezus, please do somethin', Mister! It's turrible, they're all over him! Couldn't see them coming! We didn't mean to hurt nothin'! Ya gotta do somethin'!"

     Well, me and this kid went and ran all the way back to the spot where they were seining. There's a local law against using the big nets, but that don't stop people from trying it once in a while. Any way, we arrived at the spot and I still have to pinch myself every time I remember it.

     The other kid was lying on the ground, no more than eight years old. Beside him was the net. As I stepped up to him, the first thing I noticed were his eyes, or I guess I noticed that his eyes were gone. Just two enormous empty and bloody sockets where they should have been. I looked down at his chest, and it was bloody, too. It looked to me like he'd been stabbed hundreds of times with little pen knives. I looked at the net and in it was mostly what I expected: some fish, salamanders, snails, and frogs. But in the middle of the net, in what looked like a seething cluster, was a clump of crayfish. The 11 year old boy that brought me there started yelling again, warning me not to get close to them, saying they were evil.

     I ignored him and squatted down to get a better look at the crustaceans. They were unlike any I had ever seen before. The things themselves were big for crawdads, about 10 inches, but their claws were almost as big as their bodies! It was amazing. The thorax had the usual exoskeleton carapace, but extending from its back were strange horned flanges, like those found on a stegosaurus. The tail was much longer, too, unnaturally so. They were ghastly and all congregated together, which is strange social behavior for the crayfish. I was riveted by this impossible mass of creatures, and in spite of the mutilated child breathing in labored gasps behind me, I could not look away. The other kid took off, I suppose to get an ambulance. As he left us, I drew closer to the creatures as they milled about in some sort of strange communion with each other.

     Suddenly, one of them leaped at me! It hit my face and a pincher got hold of my ear. It felt like Lucifer had grabbed me, and the pain was almost incompressible. It felt like my ear had come off and someone was pouring hot, scalding water into the wound. Two more leaped at me, one at my throat and the other right above my eye. I got the one at my throat loose, but its feet seemed to be capable of stinging, and were trying to anchor themselves in my flesh. The one above my eye clung stubbornly, but I grabbed it with both hands and tore it off. The bony protrusions on its back ripped into my palms and filled them with that scalding pain I soon realized was venom. I screamed uncontrollably as I pulled and tugged at the ten inch monster. Another attached itself to my foot and was burrowing like a tick into my flesh. I started kicking it with the other foot as hard as I could while still trying to get the one on my head loose.

     By the grace of God, the ambulance and two policemen arrived on the scene. At first the paramedics and cops were as shocked as I had been, but working together we got the crawdad off my face. The one on my foot continued to burrow, and was half out of sight inside my blood drenched limb. The other officer ran back to his car and returned with a lunch pail and removed five packs of salt from a fast food place.

     "It works on leeches, lets see if it works on these bastards," he said, "hold him down!"

     He poured the salt on the crawdad and the damned thing crept out of the hole it had made in my foot and scuttled back toward the net. The two cops pulled out their nightsticks to beat the little community of crustacea into the next world, but I told them to hold off. These things, dangerous as they were, needed to be studied. They reluctantly agreed, and loaded me into the ambulance where I passed out.

     The kid who lost his eyes didn't make it; he bled to death. The other kid spent a year under observation at Massarraty Asylum to recover from the shock. The crayfish died in the lab. We've continued to study the remains, genetically linking these viscious creatures to their more familiar cousins but how this new and potently menacing species could appear from out of nowhere is still a painful mystery. Three other reports of attacks in the intervening thirteen years have been recorded. No one has been able to capture any more live specimens of the strain.

     Except for the scars and my walking cane, I survived the ordeal quite well. The Cravenbrook is still my friend and I still appreciate a lazy day of fishing as much as the rest of the town. We've all just learned not to poke our noses too close to the water.