Here’s Spectacle, Education,

Naomi Husher, 9, of Brookfield checks out the lobsters at Shaw's Supermarket in Randolph (Herald / Tim Calabro)

And Yes, Nourishment, Too!

By Chris Costanzo

You know the feeling. Despite all the wonderful sights and activities in and around Randolph, there eventually comes a moment when you finds that you have nothing to do.

One has skied, snow shoed, hiked, bird-watched, and visited the Bethel fish hatchery. One has attended the concerts and the plays and seen the museums, the crafts fairs, and the local art. And then, suddenly, one feels that he has done it all and has seen it all. At such a time, as the philosopher Schopenhauer trenchantly phrased it, "Life swings like a pendulum backward and forward between pain and boredom."

But when this happens, when you urgently crave aesthetic and intellectual stimulus, there is no need for despair. For when all else fails, there is always the lobster tank at Shaw's supermarket.

I have spent many a pleasant afternoon there watching the antics of the lobsters and I can testify that they are really quite dramatic. One soon notices that although the lobsters move in graceful slow motion they confront each other with menace. There is much sparring and maneuvering for tactical position.

Of course, the staff has taped their claws shut as a courtesy to purchasers, but the lobsters themselves don't seem to realize it. So, any lobster will usually back off when approached by another lobster with larger claws, even if the larger lobster can't use them.

Eventually one lobster establishes dominance over all the others. Although it's usually the one with the biggest claws, sometimes it's the one with the nastiest demeanor. Either way, all the others will huddle abjectly in one corner, while the dominant lobster will strut arrogantly along the edges of the tank, doing repeated laps, and literally walking right over his huddled subordinates.

But things never remain static in a lobster tank. That's the beauty of the spectacle. Soon one of the huddled lobsters will decide to challenge the dominant one, and will emerge from the group to confront him. On some occasions the dominant lobster will wave his huge claws high up over his head, thereby persuading the challenger to retreat abjectly into the crowd once again. On other occasions, a very fit and well-rested challenger will cause the dominant lobster to yield, in which case the loser will be the one to melt into the crowd. Perhaps the challenger is able to seize dominance because the other one is tired from all that strutting. The idea that pride goes before the fall is germane to lobsters as it is to people.

I'm told that it is only male lobsters that pick fights to seek dominance, to acquire a monopoly over the females. But I think that such a view is in error. It only takes a few minutes of keen observation to see that all lobsters look alike and that it's impossible to discern the sex of a lobster at any distance. I doubt that the lobsters can tell either, which leads to the inevitable misunderstandings, the angry waving of claws, and the menacing postures. Last January I wrote a paper on the subject and submitted it to a scientific journal for publication. I am currently awaiting a reply.

Betting on Lobsters?

It has occurred to me that there might be some monetary profit in laying odds and allowing public betting as to such things as which lobster will emerge dominant in any confrontation, or how long it takes him (or her) to circle the tank. But I sear such profit would not past muster with Vermont law. I did do a word-search for "lobsters" in the Vermont statutes online and couldn't find any prohibition of lobster betting, but a lawyer friend told me that the prohibition is inherent in other more general statutes. I'll take his word for it.

Of course, the lobsters don't know that they will soon be eaten. If they did, it would probably focus their thinking on other matters thereby reducing confrontations. I do know that lobster flesh is very rich and nutritious, and many people consider it a great delicacy. But those of us who have watched the lobsters, and have developed occasional feelings for them, urge humane treatment.

The only way to kill a lobster for eating is dismemberment or boiling. The first method is always cruel, for reasons that are obvious to most people. And so is the second method, if it involves plunging a lobster directly in boiling water, as some cooks do. But I have read that if you put a lobster in cold water and slowly bring it to a boil, it will swoon before the water gets really, really hot, thus sparing it any agony. I cannot vouch for this, absent dependable testimony from a lobster.

But regardless of whether you want to eat lobsters or would just like to gamble on their confrontations, the lobster tank at Shaw's remains wonderful theater, an educational spectacle that never stales. Unlike the New York City supermarkets, where the staffs would treat a spectator with suspicion ("Move it along, bozo."), I have found the staff at Shaw's to be quite tolerant when I hang out at their lobster tank.

Occasionally a couple of employees will come over and ask if they can help me with anything. They will smile and leave me alone when I explain that I'm just watching the lobsters. When I first started to frequent the lobster tank I did catch some meaningful and concerned glances exchanged among the staff. But by now most of them know me, and they no longer give my presence a second thought.