oyster bed

anonymous asked:

Due to a personal grudge against the USACE I'd really like for them to lose their battle against the Mississippi River and realize they should stop and really think about how they mess with rivers and water supplies. But realistically what would it mean if the Mississippi decided she was tired of that wall and fucked it up?

If the Old River Control structure fails, a sequence of things will happen. 

First…we already know that if that happens…there is nothing we can do to shift the river back to its old bed. Nothing. The Army corp of Engineers has admitted it. Engineers who study such things have admitted it. Such a thing is beyond our ability. If the Mississippi carves a new channel for itself, that’s it. We learn to live with it, period end of sentence. 

The most immediate thing would be that the Atchafalaya river ceases to exist. The moment the Mississippi jumps to the Atcafalaya’s channel, it’s the Mississippi. It will be until the Mississippi jumps channels again. Every town and person along the current course of the Atchafalaya is in deep, deep trouble, because a flood’s a-coming, and there is no power of humans that can stop it. All people can do is get out of the way. 

The old channel will become a bayou. And now that the force of the river isn’t pushing out to sea, the salt water will infiltrate back up the much, much smaller distributory stream that will be left. 

Remember Baton Rouge? Remember New Orleans? They’re gonna lose the main source of their fresh water. Both are tidal salt marshland now. New Orlean’s port is high and dry and useless. Ships full of exports and imports are stranded, and the marine shipping industry for the Midwest is hamstrung just like that. Farmers cannot ship produce out. We cannot ship goods in, because there is no longer a facility on the Mississipi that can unload marine cargo. Billons more is lost, possibly trillions. The only thing to be done is move, people and industry both. 

New Orleans and Baton will empty out, in all likelihood. Without fresh water, people will have to relocate. In a decade, they’ll be ghost towns, and eventually the swamps will reclaim what’s theirs. 

There are a terrible lot of industrial plants built along the Mississippi near New Orleans, because they cannot run without a source of fresh water. They’re all useless once the Mississippi abandons them. Billions upon billions of dollars, left high and dry and unable to run. Billions more in production lost. 

Rice farms drown or go high and dry. Commercial oyster beds around the Atchafalaya die because there is now too much fresh water. Soybean fields drown. 

Now, this is of course all completely natural. The wildlife will adjust. It has before, every time the Mississippi changes beds. This is normal. It’s natural. 

But for the humans that built their lives in its way without thinking forward, because with our little mayfly lives the river seems a static thing, unchanging…

…well. 

Disaster isn’t really the proper word, because there’s been nothing of this scale before. Something greater would be needed to describe the lives and livelihoods ruined. 

But despite that, it’s gonna happen. Sooner or later, it’s gonna happen. 

Further reading that may interest you; 

https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/1987/02/23/atchafalaya

https://www.nola.com/environment/2017/12/rising_river_bottom_could_swit.html

Tentacle-Tober, Day 2

A/n - Again, from the Eight Arms to Hold You AU 


The drop off was nice, this time of year. Somewhat after the mating season, and most of the seahorses were off, building their shelters for their fry.

Bucky and Tony, with their half dozen babies, all now a year old, were not getting ready for a second spawning, even though many of their friends were. 

That Bucky and Tony had babies at all was something of a happy accident, and they had six of them at once, which, as Bucky said, with eight arms, he didn’t have any left over for another baby.

But right now, the drop was nice, because it wasn’t crowded, and because the kelp was thick and protective, and because the oyster beds were lush and full. Bucky and several of his children were harvesting clams, stuffing succulent little globs of meat in their mouths as often – or maybe even more often – than they put it in the basket to bring back to Tony, and the three siblings that remained behind at their camp site. 

“Don’t get too near the edge,” Bucky cautioned, and it wasn’t the first reminder, but Jaime had a tendency to forget that he’d been warned, especially when something was new and interesting.

“Yes,” a familiar voice said. “You never know when something might reach out and grab you.”

Jaime, Ward, and Win all scuttled back to hide behind Bucky’s tentacles.

(more under the cut)

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The Walrus and the Carpenter

by Lewis Carroll

The sun was shining on the sea,
Shining with all his might:
He did his very best to make
The billows smooth and bright—
And this was odd, because it was
The middle of the night.

The moon was shining sulkily,
Because she thought the sun
Had got no business to be there
After the day was done—
“It’s very rude of him,” she said,
“To come and spoil the fun!”

The sea was wet as wet could be,
The sands were dry as dry.
You could not see a cloud, because
No cloud was in the sky:
No birds were flying over head—
There were no birds to fly.

The Walrus and the Carpenter
Were walking close at hand;
They wept like anything to see
Such quantities of sand:
“If this were only cleared away,”
They said, “it WOULD be grand!”

“If seven maids with seven mops
Swept it for half a year,
Do you suppose,” the Walrus said,
“That they could get it clear?”
“I doubt it,” said the Carpenter,
And shed a bitter tear.

“O Oysters, come and walk with us!”
The Walrus did beseech.
“A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk,
Along the briny beach:
We cannot do with more than four,
To give a hand to each.”

The eldest Oyster looked at him.
But never a word he said:
The eldest Oyster winked his eye,
And shook his heavy head—
Meaning to say he did not choose
To leave the oyster-bed.

But four young oysters hurried up,
All eager for the treat:
Their coats were brushed, their faces washed,
Their shoes were clean and neat—
And this was odd, because, you know,
They hadn’t any feet.

Four other Oysters followed them,
And yet another four;
And thick and fast they came at last,
And more, and more, and more—
All hopping through the frothy waves,
And scrambling to the shore.

The Walrus and the Carpenter
Walked on a mile or so,
And then they rested on a rock
Conveniently low:
And all the little Oysters stood
And waited in a row.

“The time has come,” the Walrus said,
“To talk of many things:
Of shoes—and ships—and sealing-wax—
Of cabbages—-and kings—
And why the sea is boiling hot—
And whether pigs have wings.”

“But wait a bit,” the Oysters cried,
“Before we have our chat;
For some of us are out of breath,
And all of us are fat!”
“No hurry!” said the Carpenter.
They thanked him much for that.

“A loaf of bread,” the Walrus said,
“Is what we chiefly need:
Pepper and vinegar besides
Are very good indeed—
Now if you’re ready Oysters dear,
We can begin to feed.”

“But not on us!” the Oysters cried,
Turning a little blue,
“After such kindness, that would be
A dismal thing to do!”
“The night is fine,” the Walrus said
“Do you admire the view?

“It was so kind of you to come!
And you are very nice!”
The Carpenter said nothing but
“Cut us another slice:
I wish you were not quite so deaf—
I’ve had to ask you twice!”

“It seems a shame,” the Walrus said,
“To play them such a trick,
After we’ve brought them out so far,
And made them trot so quick!”
The Carpenter said nothing but
“The butter’s spread too thick!”

“I weep for you,” the Walrus said.
“I deeply sympathize.”
With sobs and tears he sorted out
Those of the largest size.
Holding his pocket handkerchief
Before his streaming eyes.

“O Oysters,” said the Carpenter.
“You’ve had a pleasant run!
Shall we be trotting home again?”
But answer came there none—
And that was scarcely odd, because
They’d eaten every one.

Mermay ficlet #2

“Wow!  So pretty!”  The… dead..? boy made no move to attack.  In fact, he seemed to be regarding Yuuri’s flared fins and unsheathed spines with delight. Yuuri blinked at him.  Nobody had ever called him pretty before.  His tail was pale, with bold striping at his hips that faded into mottled speckles near his caudal fin.  He’d always assumed he was an ordinary black and white; it had taken Phichit to point out that his scales were actually shades of lightest and darkest blue.  Not that it really mattered when he’d had to hold up a shell or a bone next to himself in order to see the difference.  His human hair was black and his eyes were brown; nothing special there.  Really, the only parts of himself that Yuuri thought were even remotely attractive were his fins, which might not be as voluminous as a betta’s, but were both delicately frilled and a striking shade of cobalt.  With fins like those, his mind would occasionally whisper in a fit of daring, someone who didn’t know Yuuri better might even think he looked bold.

Or, apparently, pretty.

“How… who?”  Yuuri took a deep breath to settle himself and tried again.  “What are you?”

The boy beamed at him, that same heart-shaped smile he had offered right before Yuuri’d tried to drown him.  “Papa says I’m a demon, or sometimes a curse,” he chirped brightly.  There were no gills at his throat, and Yuuri wondered if they were hidden beneath the boy’s shirt.  The coarse brown garment was overlarge for his frame and full of holes, but Yuuri wouldn’t want any sort of fabric restricting his breathing.  Although a demon wouldn’t necessarily need to breathe…

“What about your mother?” Yuuri wondered aloud.  He’d never heard of a demon with a family before.  But then, consorting with demons was Sea Witch territory and Minako had never talked shop when she knew that Yuuri was listening.  And she’d always known when Yuuri was listening.

The probably-demon-boy’s grin grew wider.  “Oh, Mama calls me Vitya!”

“Vitya..?” Yuuri blinked, tasting the word on tongue.  That wasn’t any type of demon or spirit he’d ever… oh.  “Is Vitya your… name?”  It was almost a whisper.  A demon just handing over a true name to a mer, even a child, was beyond unheard of. It was…

“Sort of,” he said, and Yuuri relaxed slightly.  A use-name. He could handle that.  But then the boy – Vitya – shook his head.  “My real name is Victor.”  Yuuri gasped. “But Mama says that’s for strangers and humans and my papa, so you should probably call me Vitya too.”  And then he looked at Yuuri expectantly.

“Um, okay…? I guess I can call you v-Vitya if that’s what you prefer,” Yuuri said hesitantly.  But that didn’t seem to be what Victor/Vitya was waiting for.  He tilted his head, and his finger reappeared at his lips.

What does he want?  He told me his true name, does he want me to swear some vow of secrecy?  I don’t mind, but shouldn’t he have said something like that before he decided to go around giving out his name to some random…

He gave me his name…

I am an idiot.

Yuuri felt himself flush scarlet.  “Oh! I, um… sorry.  I’m Yuuri.  Sorry.” At this point he was kind of wishing that Vitya would turn out to be the flesh-eating kind of demon.  At least that would put him out of his misery.

A rush of water and limbs, and suddenly Yuuri’s arms were full of a very affectionate maybe-demon. “Yuuri!” Vitya squealed, and oh those green-blue eyes were so much brighter than sea glass up close.  Abalone shell, maybe.  But Vitya was talking and Yuuri really needed to listen instead of wondering which oyster beds would produce the closest color…

“Wait, what?”

Vitya laughed.  “I asked you how many of the humans from the settlement you wanted dead.”

Yuuri blinked at him. “Um.  All of them?”  And didn’t that just sound insane.  And impossible.  And incredibly, incredibly bloodthirsty.  But then again, Vitya was a demon, probably, so he shouldn’t mind a little bit of bloodthirstiness.  

And when exactly did Yuuri start worrying about scaring Vitya off?  Mers were by nature social, and Yuuri had been alone for far too long, but a demon?!

“Okay.”  

What.  “Okay?”

And Victor’s smile was sweet.  Gentle. Serene, even.  “Okay,” he repeated.  “For… Yuuko, right?  And others?” He didn’t wait for a response, which was just as well.  Yuuri wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to talk about the full extent of what – who – he’d lost.  “It’ll be all right, Yuuri.  You’ll see.

“I’ll help you kill them all.”

flickr

Bald Eagles of Seabeck by glowworm6a
Via Flickr:
Bald Eagles and Herons congregate on the oyster beds at Seabeck during the summer. The Sculpins or Bullheads spawn on the oyster beds. The Herons and Eagles feed on the Sculpins that get caught on the oyster beds during low tide. Generally the Herons catch the Sculpins and the Eagles steal from the Herons. The day these photos were taken was kind of strange, the sky was a little overcast but there was this thick fog that just hung out over the water. This gave all the photographs an orange cast that I couldn’t get rid of. Taken June 23 2019. Seabeck WA.

how to shuck an oyster
image

1. wash a bag of freshly harvested oysters under cold running water to remove grit and then place in ice for 1 hour.

2. put on a set of (oddly glamorous) chainmail shucking gloves or cover one hand with a folded kitchen towel.

3. place an oyster in one protected hand with the rounded cup side down in your palm and the narrower hinged point toward you.

4. grab an oyster knife with your other hand. insert it into the hinge, just between the shells, and, with gentle pressure, twist the blade to prop the shell open.

5. run the blade over the meat along the top of the shell to server the oyster from its top shell. continue using a twisting motion to separate the top and bottom shells.

6. lift off the top shell and discard.

7. cut under the oyster to release it from the bottom of the shell, being careful to keep as much liquid in the shell as possible.

8. place the opened oyster on a bed of crushed ice and repeat steps 3 to 8 until you’ve shucked at least a dozen. 

enjoy!