The Bay of Fundy from a Scallop’s Point of View

Alma, New Brunswick, at high tide.

Alma, New Brunswick, at high tide.

by cheri

I was born just outside of Digby, Nova Scotia. Perhaps you have eaten some of my landsmen, Digby Scallops, long revered as the choicest in the world. I now reside in New Brunswick, across from Digby on the bottom of the wild Bay of Fundy, hiding from the dredges that scrape us from the sandy bottom of the seas. Starfish, too, enjoy Digby scallops.

My curvy shell, object of adoration and art, allows me to swim. We bivalves are grateful for our bi.

My blue eyes, all 100 of them, match that boat you see above, floating in the glassy water of high tide.

Although I don’t have a brain, I get along fairly well with my brawn  and sturdy feminine shell. As you can imagine, I am a terrific swimmer and have managed to survive here in Atlantic Canada, one of the hubs of world scallop  production. The number of us here is staggering which could be because our sex life begins at age two. Life is good.

The tide is out here on the Bay of Fundy. Note the 25 or so feet difference.

The tide is out here on the Bay of Fundy. Note the 25 or so feet difference.

Silly people come from all parts abroad to witness the six-hour tidal contractions. Why, some of these travelers photograph the sticky red beaches left with the Bay pulls out.


High above the Bay of Fundy on a cloudy day.

High above the Bay of Fundy on a cloudy day.

Next time you order scallops instead of crab or lobster, make sure you ask if they are Digby scallops.

We are special.

About Cheri

Writer, artist, cable television host, grandmother to four!
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6 Responses to The Bay of Fundy from a Scallop’s Point of View

  1. ShimonZ says:

    Fascinating point of view. Couldn’t figure if you approve or disapprove of the eating of your fellow creatures, but I can assure you that I’ve never eaten scallops in my life, and wouldn’t even recognize a sexy one in a picture. But I did enjoy both the narrative and the photos.

    • Cheri says:

      Thank you Shimon. I leave that judgement to the reader and am pleased your perceptive reading picked that up. I often hide ideas in my writing, hoping my most insightful student will be curious. Many thanks for your taking your precious time to read this post.

  2. Christopher says:

    I think you’ve done this before – imagined yourself as another form of life, but with your with your own individual human consciousness still intact. It does concentrate one’s mind.

    I’m currently reading a short novel (first published in 1922) by a David Garnett, called “Lady into Fox”, in which a man’s wife suddenly changes into a fox, but with her human consciousness and sensitivities unchanged. Hence we, the readers, can vicariously experience how frightening it must be to be a fox, and how vulnerable we would feel.

    We are all able (I think) to imagine ourselves, not only as an animal, but also as someone (a human) very different – whether racially, sexually, culturally, or whatever. We would look at our family, friends, culture etc, very differently I think. We might even find them terrifying.

    I’m now remembering a wonderful Spanish-language film called “El Norte” that I saw over thirty tears ago. It’s about two children, who escape almost certain death in their carnage-ridden Central America country, and seek to reach America (EL Norte). We, the viewers, follow them as they cross the most inhospitable terrain, and crawl through pipes, and endure terrible hardship, in order not to be detected by the American border guards.

    They do eventually manage to cross into southern California, and seek work through knocking at front doors of affluent white suburbanites. But, I had been so drawn into the precarious world of these two children – so that I was seeing everything through their eyes – that, vicariously, I was them. Hence the English speaking white people they encountered near the end of the film, appeared to me as foreign, and as strange, as they would have to the two children.

    I’ve never been quite the same since I saw “El Norte”………

  3. Cheri says:

    Hi Christopher,
    Great memory! I have done this before and so enjoy trying to get into the shell of another creature. I know I was a hamster in Cheri’s Hamster Family. I do want you to return to your writing about film– you are a fine and knowledgeable film critic.

    Your point is well-taken—that we never really know about a life, be it animal or human, unless we are to live it.

  4. shoreacres says:

    Quite amusing, your tale — and interesting, too. I like scallops, but never have thought much about the differences between what we call bay scallops (which are small) and the big ones, which I’ve assumed came from the ocean. In any event, we have to get our scallops from elsewhere, because they don’t live here. We have shrimp, oysters, and crabs — but no scallops. They must like colder water.

    I’d love to see the Bay of Fundy rise and fall. Wasn’t there a poem? You know — “The tide rises, the fide falls, the tourists line up, the scallop calls…” Something like that.

    • Cheri says:

      You not only write lovely Haiku but your parodies are top-notch. I laughed outloud at your little ditty.
      Digby scallops are huge..almost an inch thick and about the size of a half-dollar coin. Four are a meal.

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