A story
Nunu the Hermit Crab Tries On Every Shell on the Beach
Nunu was a small hermit crab with bright orange legs, two black eyes on tiny stalks, and a curly brown shell that he carried everywhere he went. He lived on a quiet beach where the sand was warm and pale, and the waves came in and went out again, whispering shhh, shhh, shhh all day long.
Nunu loved his shell. It was the color of toffee, with a little white stripe that went round and round like a ribbon. At night he tucked himself inside it, and it was as cozy as a blanket. In the morning he poked out his legs and trotted along the tide line, looking for bits of seaweed to nibble.
But one sunny morning, something strange happened.
Nunu tried to tuck himself inside his shell, and his back legs did not fit. He wriggled. He squeezed. He pulled in his claws as tightly as he could. Still, one orange leg stuck out at the side.
"Oh dear," said Nunu. "My shell has become very small."
His friend Pebble, an old gray crab who lived under a flat rock, clicked her claws and chuckled kindly. "Your shell has not become small, Nunu," she said. "You have become big. All hermit crabs grow. When we grow, we look for a new shell."
"A new shell?" said Nunu. He looked at his toffee-colored home with the white stripe. "But I like this one."
"I know," said Pebble. "But you cannot live in a shell that pinches. Go and look along the beach. The right shell is out there somewhere."
So Nunu set off.
The tide had gone out, and the beach was full of treasures. There were pink shells and white shells, spotted shells and striped shells. There were shells as tiny as a grain of rice and shells as big as a cup.
The first shell Nunu found was long and pointy, like a tall party hat. He climbed inside. His legs fit, but when he tried to walk, the pointy end dragged in the sand behind him. Scritch, scratch, scritch. He went round in a circle and bumped into a strand of seaweed.
"Too pointy," said Nunu, and he climbed out.
The second shell was round and shiny and white, like a pearl button. It was very beautiful. Nunu squeezed in, and the shell gleamed in the sun. But it was so heavy that he could not lift it. He pushed and puffed, and the shell did not move at all.
"Too heavy," said Nunu, and he climbed out.
The third shell was light and pretty and purple. But it had a little hole in the top. When a wave splashed over the sand, the water poured right in and tickled Nunu's tummy.
"Too leaky," said Nunu, laughing a little as he shook himself dry. He climbed out.
On and on he went. He tried a shell that was too wide and wobbled like a boat. He tried a shell that was too narrow and squeezed his claws. He tried a shell that smelled of old fish, and he climbed out of that one very quickly indeed.
By the middle of the day, the sun was hot, and Nunu was tired. He sat down beside a clump of green sea grass and sighed.
"There are so many shells," he said, "and not one of them is right."
Just then, he heard a tiny sound. It was a soft little sniffle, coming from behind the sea grass.
Nunu peeked around. There sat a very small hermit crab, smaller than Nunu had ever been. She had no shell at all. Her soft pink body was curled up tight, and she was trembling in the breeze.
"Hello," said Nunu gently. "Are you all right?"
"I lost my shell," said the little crab. "A big wave came and rolled it away. I looked and looked, but every shell I find is much too big for me. I am cold, and I feel a bit scared without a home."
Nunu looked at her. Then he looked at his old toffee-colored shell with the white stripe, which he had dragged along behind him all morning.
It was too small for him now. But for her, it might be just right.
"My name is Nunu," he said. "This was my shell. It was a very good home. It is too small for me now, but would you like to try it?"
The little crab's eyes grew wide. She crept forward and touched the white stripe with one tiny claw. Then she climbed in, slowly and carefully.
She fit perfectly. Not too tight. Not too loose. Not too heavy. Just right.
"Oh," she whispered. "It is warm. It is cozy. It feels like a hug."
"It always did," said Nunu, and he felt a happy, glowing feeling all the way from his eye stalks to the tips of his orange legs.
"My name is Sola," said the little crab. "Thank you, Nunu. I will take good care of it."
Nunu waved goodbye and walked on along the sand. The sun was lower now, and the light was soft and golden. The waves went shhh, shhh, shhh.
And there, just where the wet sand met the dry sand, lay a shell he had not seen before. It was speckled brown and cream, like a bird's egg. It had a wide, smooth opening and a gentle curl at the top.
Nunu climbed inside.
His back legs fit. His claws fit. When he walked, the shell did not drag. When he lifted it, it was not too heavy. When a little wave splashed over him, not a single drop came in.
Nunu tucked himself all the way inside and stayed very still. It was roomy and warm, and there was even a little space to grow.
"This one," he said softly. "This one is mine."
That evening, he trotted back to Pebble's flat rock to show her. On the way he passed Sola, who was nibbling seaweed with her new home on her back. She waved her tiny claw, and the white stripe on the toffee-colored shell shone in the last of the sunlight.
Pebble clicked her claws in delight. "A fine shell," she said. "And I hear you gave your old one away."
"It was too good a home to leave empty," said Nunu.
That night, the moon rose silver over the beach. Two hermit crabs slept in two shells that fit them just right, and the waves sang shhh, shhh, shhh until morning.
Nunu loved his shell. It was the color of toffee, with a little white stripe that went round and round like a ribbon. At night he tucked himself inside it, and it was as cozy as a blanket. In the morning he poked out his legs and trotted along the tide line, looking for bits of seaweed to nibble.
But one sunny morning, something strange happened.
Nunu tried to tuck himself inside his shell, and his back legs did not fit. He wriggled. He squeezed. He pulled in his claws as tightly as he could. Still, one orange leg stuck out at the side.
"Oh dear," said Nunu. "My shell has become very small."
His friend Pebble, an old gray crab who lived under a flat rock, clicked her claws and chuckled kindly. "Your shell has not become small, Nunu," she said. "You have become big. All hermit crabs grow. When we grow, we look for a new shell."
"A new shell?" said Nunu. He looked at his toffee-colored home with the white stripe. "But I like this one."
"I know," said Pebble. "But you cannot live in a shell that pinches. Go and look along the beach. The right shell is out there somewhere."
So Nunu set off.
The tide had gone out, and the beach was full of treasures. There were pink shells and white shells, spotted shells and striped shells. There were shells as tiny as a grain of rice and shells as big as a cup.
The first shell Nunu found was long and pointy, like a tall party hat. He climbed inside. His legs fit, but when he tried to walk, the pointy end dragged in the sand behind him. Scritch, scratch, scritch. He went round in a circle and bumped into a strand of seaweed.
"Too pointy," said Nunu, and he climbed out.
The second shell was round and shiny and white, like a pearl button. It was very beautiful. Nunu squeezed in, and the shell gleamed in the sun. But it was so heavy that he could not lift it. He pushed and puffed, and the shell did not move at all.
"Too heavy," said Nunu, and he climbed out.
The third shell was light and pretty and purple. But it had a little hole in the top. When a wave splashed over the sand, the water poured right in and tickled Nunu's tummy.
"Too leaky," said Nunu, laughing a little as he shook himself dry. He climbed out.
On and on he went. He tried a shell that was too wide and wobbled like a boat. He tried a shell that was too narrow and squeezed his claws. He tried a shell that smelled of old fish, and he climbed out of that one very quickly indeed.
By the middle of the day, the sun was hot, and Nunu was tired. He sat down beside a clump of green sea grass and sighed.
"There are so many shells," he said, "and not one of them is right."
Just then, he heard a tiny sound. It was a soft little sniffle, coming from behind the sea grass.
Nunu peeked around. There sat a very small hermit crab, smaller than Nunu had ever been. She had no shell at all. Her soft pink body was curled up tight, and she was trembling in the breeze.
"Hello," said Nunu gently. "Are you all right?"
"I lost my shell," said the little crab. "A big wave came and rolled it away. I looked and looked, but every shell I find is much too big for me. I am cold, and I feel a bit scared without a home."
Nunu looked at her. Then he looked at his old toffee-colored shell with the white stripe, which he had dragged along behind him all morning.
It was too small for him now. But for her, it might be just right.
"My name is Nunu," he said. "This was my shell. It was a very good home. It is too small for me now, but would you like to try it?"
The little crab's eyes grew wide. She crept forward and touched the white stripe with one tiny claw. Then she climbed in, slowly and carefully.
She fit perfectly. Not too tight. Not too loose. Not too heavy. Just right.
"Oh," she whispered. "It is warm. It is cozy. It feels like a hug."
"It always did," said Nunu, and he felt a happy, glowing feeling all the way from his eye stalks to the tips of his orange legs.
"My name is Sola," said the little crab. "Thank you, Nunu. I will take good care of it."
Nunu waved goodbye and walked on along the sand. The sun was lower now, and the light was soft and golden. The waves went shhh, shhh, shhh.
And there, just where the wet sand met the dry sand, lay a shell he had not seen before. It was speckled brown and cream, like a bird's egg. It had a wide, smooth opening and a gentle curl at the top.
Nunu climbed inside.
His back legs fit. His claws fit. When he walked, the shell did not drag. When he lifted it, it was not too heavy. When a little wave splashed over him, not a single drop came in.
Nunu tucked himself all the way inside and stayed very still. It was roomy and warm, and there was even a little space to grow.
"This one," he said softly. "This one is mine."
That evening, he trotted back to Pebble's flat rock to show her. On the way he passed Sola, who was nibbling seaweed with her new home on her back. She waved her tiny claw, and the white stripe on the toffee-colored shell shone in the last of the sunlight.
Pebble clicked her claws in delight. "A fine shell," she said. "And I hear you gave your old one away."
"It was too good a home to leave empty," said Nunu.
That night, the moon rose silver over the beach. Two hermit crabs slept in two shells that fit them just right, and the waves sang shhh, shhh, shhh until morning.
