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