Breakfast at Changi Beach means self-service for most residents. Table manners are optional. And the meat comes extra raw. And bloody. So it seems rather unbecoming for a muncher of such machosismo to shy away beneath a blanket of sand, leaving behind a haemoglobic mess of scarlet splatter. The gore does its best to draw the bloodlust of a nosy whelk who circles the scene, probing and pretending to be minding its own business. The little flatfish continues to chew its living sausage, wrestling with a worm far beyond its RDI. Closer and closer crawls the snail, its proboscis erect and antennae extended, until it sheds its nonchalance and goes up close and personal and cheek to cheek with its short time sole mate, hinting for a share of a polychaete long enough for two. Or even three, as the little anemone hitching a ride on the whelk is probably not one to turn down a free meal, even if it is served from a slow shell...
Fantastic shots!
Posted by: Snail | 08 July 2007 at 07:55 PM