Notes on Nature: Home and Hermit Crabs

Something moves, almost imperceptibly, in the rockpool. The tiniest of ripples, so small that I blink, thinking the sun must be playing tricks on the surface of the water. But there it is again. And again, again, again. Claws and legs aflitter. What previously looked still and – to my untrained eye – lifeless is now skittering with small bodies, scooting about with shells of various different sizes on their backs.

My best friends lean over the pool, peering down into the clear water with glee. It feels like we’ve found a secret. Stalky eyes look back up at us, the hermit crabs growing bolder the longer we stay, increasingly confident that we aren’t about to eat them. I’m watching a dozen little bodies and a dozen little homes, finding it hard to distinguish the line between the two.

Home is something I struggle with. I’ve find it difficult to access, to accept, to find. It’s something that has at times been taken away from me, and at times I’ve been taken away from it. I don’t believe home to be individual but relational – it’s not something we can build solely for ourselves. So many factors influence our ability to feel safe, cosy and comfortable.

Hermit crabs make their bodies homes by adding to them. They find the right shell for them at that moment, out of what’s available in their local habitat. When they outgrow them, they move on. They’re adaptable and reflect back at the world the materials it leaves for them – some hermit crabs are now making homes in plastic. More and more, I want to wear my home lightly too. I want to be able to discard it, to try new things on, to experiment and see what fits. Whilst home is a privilege, it can also feel heavy or uncomfortable, like a weight or a dress that fits you too tightly, pinching at the underarms.

I want to have the chance to find the right shell. I want to get to the point where it doesn’t matter what encloses my body because it is home itself – where I can never be truly homesick because home is something unshakable that I carry within me. For now, I can settle for feeling at home in certain moments – like this one, where the sun beats down on the shoulders of people I love and we are children again, bathed in curiosity and light.