Moon River.

 

                                    Wherever you're going I'm going your way.        
         
         
                The murky brown waters of the canal near Yokohama Station contain a lot more action than the casual observer might at first notice. There`s the usual carp, but also some pied wagtails and the odd duck. Crabs claw a living from the concrete banks and very occasionally a lost frog will attempt the survival course of rusted bicycles and dead umbrellas.         
                All through the year the waters offer the opportunity to observe a rich variety of discarded plastic bags and pieces of paper, but right now, those who are not giving a second glance to the flapping white vinyl and sodden flyers will in fact be missing the chance to have a look at some real natural beauties. Because at this time of year the river is visited by Moon Jellyfish.        
               The Jellies arrive silently in the canal like lost aliens. I used to wonder why the Jellies decided to swim up the canal. Where were they going ? What did they want?  Was this phenomenon something like salmon who return to their spawning grounds?        
              In fact, I was missing some important information about Jellyfish in general that meant that my ideas were only so much nonsense, because it turns out that Jellyfish are just a nervous system without a brain and, as such, literally go with the flow. The Jellies don't want  to go up the canal, it's just where they end up. All the other Jellyfish who remain in Tokyo Bay probably have a much better time of it, although as they have no brains, those in the Bay never get the chance to feel that smug.
              Mind you, God/Evolution/Explanation of choice  has seen to it that the lack-of-brain situation has been silver-lined by the fact that the Moon Jellyfish has four gonads that are all shaped like horse-shoes. This can only be described as lucky.          
         Although having said that, I did observe once on the canal a Moon Jellyfish meet a terrible fate at the hands of a crab who, considering the usual pickings along the concrete banks, must have thought that Christmas had come early. 
         Now, I am well aware that most scientists would be in agreement that crabs do not celebrate Christmas, but it's always worth remembering that scientists have been wrong before.  In 1957, the Astronomer Royal of the U.K. Sir Harold Spencer Jones said that: "Space travel is bunk." Twelve years later, Neil Armstrong was taking his one small step.  In a world were we've been to the Moon, doesn't the idea of crabs celebrating the birth of Christ actually become more reasonable?       
         In the spirit of questioning, is there any evidence that crabs don't celebrate Christmas?    
         So for sceptics, I offer the following information and ask simply: Is there a better explanation for why crabs are so nuts about Christmas Island ?

                                 

        We easily anthropomorphosise. Certainly, it's easier to do than spell, but it's difficult to see that crab in the road on Christmas Island without thinking of a frustrated hitch-hiker or someone trying to cross a dangerously busy highway. Seeing ourselves in other creatures is the natural result of the human ability to communicate.       
        Last year, as I stood at the canal-side one day, I noticed a frog sitting forlornly on a rusting girder, possibly wondering about the strange nature of this hard brown log he'd found. I was surprised to see him there and wondered if  he would be able to find enough food to survive. I didn't think frogs ate much rust or plastic, so wanted to check on his progress every time I went past. As I left him, he was investigating an iron-oxide sump. It didn't look good.
        For a couple of weeks I didn't spot him and eventually hoped that he'd managed to hop off to a place that was more environmentally friendly to frogs. Maybe he'd managed to find a local pond. Maybe he'd even gone a courtin'!       
       And then he floated into view, his sad little corpse spinning slowly in midstream as the traffic sped overhead.
       Myself, the sole witness to this tiny little passion play, I wondered why I would get upset about a frog. There are any number of horrors in the world, why should I feel bad about a frog who'd....well....croaked?
       Simple empathy for a fellow struggler is a normal human idea. As explained by the character of Jacob in Will Eisner's A Life Force:

             
  The popularity of nature documentaries and the innate wonder we have for animals and plants and other natural phenomena indicates that one simple human desire is to understand the universe around us.
   This desire is the history of all philosophy, from the earliest religion to the latest science. One long and ongoing quest for explanations.
     And, as has long been a popular idea in Buddhism, meditation on the world around us gives us an insight into our true nature.
                 
 
    And the Moon Jellyfish go up the river, totally at one with their floating world, looking only for food and reproduction.
    Mindlessly going with the flow.
    Only to wash up on stoney shores to be easily picked apart by crabs.