Sunflower Star

[summer_jackel]

Sunflower star

Some time ago, on a rocky shore of the Pacific, I met
a sunflower star. It was lovely, soft and many-armed;
I extended my hand to it, and quickly
it swarmed up my fingers, its tiny tube-feet questing,
its body alive with fascination. Was I food?

I hoped not. I was not expecting
so much interest from an echinoderm,
much less this eager tasting.
I removed it gently as I could, a bit pained
that it left a few stray tube feet held fast
to the skin of my hand,
More nervous and eager to part company than I might have wished.
Denied, it secreted itself
beneath safe rock, and after that withdrew from touch.

Yesterday, I met another two,
resting against each other in the cool rock-shaded water,
trying to outwait the tide. One had an arm extended,
shockingly orange against its purple outer self.
I touched it; it quested lightly and pulled itself away.
So self-aware, these fleet-moving and sensitive
predatory things. So much less sessile than expected.
I was more cautious myself, this time; I'd learned
the feel of little tube feet moving with intention
and just for a moment, an irrational fear of being eaten.

It's not a bad thing to be reminded
not to assume; to remember that
we are always on the menu
and that the splendid vastness hungers.

Comments

[stoda.livejournal.com]

It's a very disconcerting feeling, isn't it? They are so very, VERY strong when they put their minds to it. And yet so terribly fragile at the same time.

I will never, ever forget catching my first octopus. By hand (and bucket, bust mostly hand) And being so grateful it didn't maim me... and I didn't maim it.