Eternal Blue

Here I was, digging in the sand along the Mexican shores of Huatulco overlooking the endless ocean. This was no vacation, though. I was on a mission to search out a particular snail

J ust spit at it” Delia told me.

“What did you say?” I asked assuming I had heard wrong.

“You have to irritate it” she explained “and nothing irritates a snail more than someone spitting at it.”

I did what I was told.

After all Delia was a marine biologist our expedition’s resident expert on all things malacological. Sure enough from underneath the operculum the hard fingernail-like covering the snail uses to seal itself in its shell a yellow slime began to ooze. It turned out to be quite an amount maybe two milliliters or so and certainly more than I had imagined such a tiny creature could produce. Small bubbles formed around the perimeter of the snail’s aperture as it filled with the precious liquid.