Crayfish

It is early in the morning, and I am still half asleep as I enter the bathroom to have my refreshing morning shower. With the ungraceful movements of a sleepwalker, I place my left foot in the bathtub, and before I have had time to let the right foot follow suit, I am wide awake, and I remember everything from last night’s nocturnal adventure. I am not alone. The bathtub is crawling with fighting black crayfish, one of which has secured a firm and rather painful grip on my little toe.

In Norway, late August brings with it the threat of autumn. The days are markedly shorter, there is a cool current in the air, and the leaves are slowly starting their transformation from bright green to fiery red. But fall also brings with it new and wonderful things. Last night was the first day of the crayfish season. Being a city boy with many things on my mind, I had not really planned for the event, but a small notice in the local newspaper had alerted me that the crayfish swimming in the city river were now free for all. It was a dark and cloudy night with a forecast of rain that never materialized—the perfect conditions for catching crayfish. I waited until nearly midnight and then drove up to the outskirts of Oslo, where the Akers River runs into town. There, with the city to my right and the Oslo forest to my left, I waded out onto the shallow sandbanks. There is really no secret to crayfish catching, no difficult technique to be learned. Armed with nothing but a bucket and a flashlight, I managed to catch about thirty small crayfish. The crayfish are stunned by the strong light, allowing you to pick them up with your hands. Some do start to swim away, but they do not go more than a few feet.