On our way to the Cape Forchu lighthouse, being the brilliant observer that I am, I had noticed several stacks of lobster traps by the roadside. So on the way back, I asked Saint Paul to stop so I could take this picture.
The traps are all stacked like this because the lobster season in Yarmouth is over for the year. It lasts from late autumn to sometime in spring (I forget the exact dates). Apparently, when it's time to lay the traps they decorate the lobster boats and light them as they parade out at midnight (I think).
When I requested the photo op however, I hadn't realized that we were about to stop at a lobster shed (my word — don't know if it's correct) where we would be immersed in lobster knowledge. These traps represent but a portion of all those that were stacked at the shed.
Inside, we were treated to a personalized guided tour by the very nice man who was only too happy to throw a little scare into Cuppa by suggesting that she might wish to caress this squirming live creature thingie.
Among other things, we were shown this huge guy who weighed in at 17 pounds. He's too big and tough for meat, and I think the hope is that some outfit purchase him for display purposes. Maybe he would like a home in a tank in a fancy restaurant, I don't know.
It's hard to appreciate his size from that photo, so here are a bunch or normal-size lobsters in a bin of similar dimensions. Quite a difference, eh?
I was surprised to learn that, ideally, lobsters are kept in cold, almost freezing water for four months during which they are not fed. In fact, they a stuffed into little compartments that resembled pigeonhole mailboxes. Somehow, their meat improves over that time span. The somewhat humanitarian AC isn't too sure that he approves of this, but it is what it is, and my consumption of lobster will certainly not support this practice, for I'd only eaten lobster once in my life until that day and now only twice.
They would have cooked for us right on the spot had we requested it. For the time being, however, Cuppa contented herself with faking it, and we took four lucky devils home with us to enjoy later.
The cooking came later, and I was sure to avert my eyes as they were dumped into the boiling cauldron. However, it was by The Saint's insistence that we found ourselves cracking the critters for their meat. Cuppa grimaces at a portion that was offered as a reward for her labors.
AC put on a brave face when it came to his turn although he was thinking of hiding out with the quarters.
Saint Paul laid out some of the best meat for us before adding the other parts of the meal to the plates. Cuppa still looks leery, but it was okay in the end.
However, it was not so wonderfully delicious that we'll be queuing up for lobster at the local Red Lobster restaurant on the weekend.
Curiously enough, apparently long before they became a supposed delicacy, lobster were considered undesirable and fit only for the poor person's supper.
I'm glad we learned a little about the lobster culture, but this concludes both my tale and poor Sir Lobster's tail.