For crabby good time, try the chicken instead

Growing up, my family owned a small fiberglass boat, perfect for fishing and crabbing in the bay. But it didn’t always work properly. It didn’t go in reverse, for example, and it often stalled, forcing us to call Boat U.S. to tow us in if we were far out at sea, or too tired to paddle back in with the one oar we had stored on the boat, for when desperate times called for desperate measures.

Photo by Kelley Anne Essinger

I hated that boat. Every time the motor clicked off, I immediately began balling my eyes out. As a little girl of 10 years old or so, I didn’t enjoy the thought of being stranded on a tiny boat in the middle of the bay. I’d seen the movie Jaws before, and I knew what the sea was capable of. Needless to say, I wasn’t too upset when the boat died and we had to get rid of it.

My love of fishing and crabbing died then, too. But that was many years ago, and I’m a much braver woman now than I was then. So along with my dad, I recently joined a two-hour “Crabby Good Times” evening boat excursion, hosted by the Ocean County Parks and Recreation Department in Toms River.

Equipped with crab traps, line and bait, (and sneakers for my dad, who was afraid of getting pinched by an angry crab) we were the first ones to show up at the dock at 6 p.m., where Captain Diane Marotta and recreation aid Krystal Smida were patiently waiting on Betty C, the county’s six-passenger aluminum pontoon party boat.

My dad finished cutting up the fluke and blowfish we brought as crab bait, for which we bartered with homegrown tomatoes and basil, from Pat Lauer (Captain Brownie) at Bob’s Boatyard in Barnegat, where we docked our old boat for many years. We were originally going to use chicken, but Pat didn’t believe in paying for bait.

“Why would you want to use chicken? Crabs eat fish; they’re all natural. You don’t find chicken in the bay,” she said.

When Andrea and her husband, Wassim, from Toms River showed up with their son, David, 13, holding chicken, I didn’t think they were going to catch many crabs. But I knew that didn’t really matter. It was a beautiful night, and we were all excited to get out on the bay.

“They went on the trip last year,” said Andrea, pointing to Wassim and David. “They had a lot of fun, so I figured I’d join them this year,” she added with interest.

As we made our way into Barnegat Bay, Krystal pointed out the wildlife surrounding us. Belted kingfishers could be seen nesting on the side of the marshland, where the soil had eroded. Passing a small harbor, known as Mosquito Cove, she explained that Silver Bay had once been called Mosquito Bay. But even though the name was changed (because it deterred people from buying property on the water), the cove is still referenced by its former name.

Photo by Steve Essinger

Coming up to a numbered marker in the water, we spotted an osprey nest and were met by the baby chick’s angry mother, who began squawking at us to leave. Krystal told us that ospreys mate for life, but often travel southward separately during the fall and wintertime. The male usually returns to the nest in March to clean up and fish for food. The female arrives a month later, when she sits on her eggs until June, when the chicks hatch. The male and female osprey take care of their babies until it’s time to head south again in September.

After passing a couple of waverunner riders and a bulkhead barge, we anchored the boat just past the Tommy Mathis Bridge, where Captain Diane said her daughter had caught a bushel of crabs the day before (a secret she promised her daughter she wouldn’t share – oops!).

Because I hadn’t been crabbing in years, I watched my dad hook a piece of fluke to one of the crab traps, before I bravely offered to try it myself. The fluke was thin and bony, so it was easy to poke through the wire. But when my dad encouraged me to slide the head of the bluefish onto the wire “right through the eye,” my stomach quivered, so I told him to do it instead.

Andrea, Wassim and David began catching crabs right away, and at first I was excited for them. But after checking our traps numerous times, only to find nothing but lumps of bait that hadn’t even been nibbled on yet, the other family’s excited yelps began to irritate me. I’m not usually a competitive person, but an hour had already gone by, and my dad and I hadn’t caught a single crab so far.

“What about those hand lines, dad?” I asked him, a bit of jealousy in my tone.

“I can rig up a few hand lines,” he answered, in-between nibbling on pretzels and popcorn, which we had brought with us for a snack. “But don’t worry, the night is young!” he announced.

After hooking a hunk of bait onto a piece of nylon string with a sinker to keep the line from floating, we sat back and hoped our extra lines would increase our chances of catching crabs.

When we checked our traps again, we were excited to find a couple of baby crabs, way under the minimum 4½ inches, scooting out of the sides of the cage. Anyone else probably would have been upset by this, but we were excited to finally see some action.

Every time we checked the lines, the crabs appeared bigger – but not big enough. So when Captain Diane suggested we move our traps to the front of the boat, near the other family, we hustled right over. And sure enough, when we checked the trap again, we found a wily crab just big enough to take home.

The next thing we knew, we caught three keepers in one trap – the biggest catch out of the whole group.

“See, it’s a good thing you moved your traps up front,” said Captain Diane.

“That’s why you’re the captain,” I told her, smiling.

My dad and I didn’t catch any more crabs before time was up and we had to head back to the dock. But we figured we’d probably only caught the few we did because of the runoff of the oil from the other family’s chicken. So we were perfectly satisfied with our catch of four male blue claw crabs.

On our way back in, we passed the county’s Bay Cruiser, manned by Captain Diane’s husband, Captain Mike Marotta. We honked and waved at the passengers heading out for the county’s Twilight Tuesdays Boat Tour.

Photo by Kelley Anne Essinger

Noticing the beautiful sunset before us, a bright mixture of fuchsia and orange peeking out around the clouds, we all gathered around to take pictures.

Before pulling into the dock, Andrea announced that she was a vegetarian and wouldn’t be eating any of the crabs.

I’m a vegetarian myself, but I couldn’t imagine not eating any of the crabs my dad and I had just caught. I’d already gone through the misery of watching them slowly suffocate to death. I thought I owed it to them to feast on their tender flesh. But going home and chopping them in half and watching their claws wriggle in response to slashed nerve endings wasn’t easy for me to do. But that’s a whole other story…

To learn more about the Crabby Good Times boat excursions ($7 a person) visit oceancountyparks.org, or dial 877-OC-PARKS.


This article was published in The Beachcomber.