The Secret Life of Lobsters Read Online Free

Phantom glided over the gravel for several long minutes without encountering anything of interest. Then, in the distant gloom, Bob thought he saw the tip of a lobster’s antenna protruding from behind a rock.
    â€œThere’s one,” Bob said, pointing. “Between those two boulders. Let’s see if we can encourage him out of there.”
    The pilot pressed his joystick and the Phantom entered a slow-motion dive. The robot nudged the boulder and the lobster antenna twitched. Sure enough, when the pilot backed the robot away, the lobster emerged from its hiding place to investigate the intruder. It strutted forward, claws extended and antennae whipping the water.
    If the lobster had been able to see the robot hovering overhead it might have been unnerved. The eyes of a lobster can detect motion under low-light conditions but don’t discern much detail, especially when faced with floodlights. Lobsters are, however, equipped with sensitive touch receptors, in the form of their two long antennae and thousands of minute hairs protruding through the shells of their claws and legs. Like houseflies, lobsters can also taste with their feet. But a lobster’s most acute sense is its ability to smell. A smaller pair of two-pronged antennae, known as antennules, contain hundreds of chemical receptors that give lobsters most of their hunting and socializing skills. But the Phantom didn’t emit a recognizable scent. Uncertain, the lobster turned from side to side.
    â€œThat’s it, baby,” Bob cooed, leaning back in his chair. “Work the camera.”
    Bob wanted a side view in order to get a size measurement. If the Phantom ’s pilot circled, the lobster was likely to pivot with the robot, claws at the ready. Instead, the pilot feigned retreat by backing up. Concluding that the threat had passed, the lobster turned to walk away, exposing its flank.
    â€œPaint him with the lasers!” Bob exclaimed, scooting to the edge of his seat.
    A pair of parallel laser beams hit the lobster squarely on its shell, providing a gauge of the animal’s length. Satisfied, Bob sat back. The pilot recommenced the transect. Shortly Carl Wilson squinted and pointed to a corner of the screen.
    â€œIs that another one over there?”
    â€œYeah, and he’s running away,” Bob said. “Hit the after-burners!”
    The pilot changed course, and the Phantom slowly gained on the lumbering lobster. It was a hulking animal, barnacles growing on its shell. The big lobster turned, faced the Phantom head-on, then lifted its claws wide and ran directly at the robot.
    â€œYou’re going to lose,” said the pilot.
    At the last second the lobster seemed to reach the same conclusion and backed off.
    Â 
    Bruce Fernald finished hauling his traps early. It had been another miserable day. Bruce and Jason had emptied and rebaited nearly three hundred traps for a measly seventy-five lobsters. By tradition a sternman’s earnings were a fixed share of the catch. Today Jason had made the mistake of calculating his hourly wage. Bruce had made the mistake of pondering the pair of college-tuition payments he was making for his twin sons. He’d done his part to repopulate the world. Why weren’t the lobsters doing theirs?
    Bruce and Jason were scrubbing the boat down on their run back toward shore when the marine radio crackled.
    â€œThis is the R/V Connecticut calling the Bottom Dollar . You on there, Jack?”
    Bruce recognized Bob Steneck’s voice and turned up the volume to listen.
    â€œYeah, this is the Bottom Dollar . Go ahead.”
    â€œHey, Jack. It’s Bob. How’s it going?”
    There was a moment of silence before Jack answered.
    â€œAh, it’s not looking so good out here. Did you get a chance to check out those spots I gave you?”
    Bob explained that partway through the day a computer had malfunctioned in the Phantom ’s command module, delaying the dive