Geographical sea hares prowled portions of Changi in this season of spring tides and sexual fervour. The survivors of spawn from pairings past that laid noodly strands of eggs amidst the seagrass, these robust grazers spent their youth as planktonic larva out at sea, feeding and getting fed upon until the fateful day when ontogeny prompts the few and fortunate to set a firm foot on the seafloor.
Not truly slugs for their mantle conceals a thin plate of calcium that protects the heart, sea hares are the misnamed children of one who clearly had never seen the speed of a jack in March nor experienced the ferocity of the killer of Caerbannog. Headless sea stars easily outpace these mapped molluscs, which can frequently be found floundering in self-made depressions in the sand high above the low water mark. Attempts to salvage their pride are rewarded with a handful of slime from a squirming body of soft flesh.
This morning, the sea hares were somewhat more active than usual. Perhaps they were excited by each other's scents as rhinopores strain to sniff out opportunities for sex in slow motion. Or they might have been agitated by a recent spate of foolish notions by people who mimic the din of hollow receptacles. Whatever the reason, it was also the first time I have seen so many forgetting their usual modesty to unveil their back sides to chaste ducks. Unfurling the cloak-like parapodia that hide their remnant shell, the sea hares waved these wings of muscle to catch a clumsy ride on the current. As they floated like aquatic angels, the moist air sagged with the heavy throbbing of lapine lust and I could swear there were faint echoes singing to a rhythm that went, 'fwap fwap fwap...'