Waking up at 4 a.m. is typically a chore on most occasions, but with the promise of experiencing something truly extraordinary, it's certainly manageable.

So 4 a.m. came and we were up, ready to have our first real DelMarVa adventure. The rain outside shook her motherly finger of disapproval, but we ignored it like mischievous children and ventured out anyway, destined for the DuPont Nature Center in Slaughter Beach, Delaware.

We were aiming for sunrise, but with the rain and lack of experience driving around the area, Mel and I arrived slightly after 6 a.m.; the sun was already up. We did, however, get to share the back corner of this small town with only the willets that were puttering through puddles and roosting on fence poles for nearly an hour. The drizzle seemed to be holding firm, but constantly threatening to become downpour, so we wielded our cameras with care. Still, the birds seemed to be posing for shots, swooping down nearby, as vain as movie stars.

Once the DuPont Nature Center opened, the rain picked up again and we welcomed the warmth. Inside the single-roomed, fairly new (3 years and counting) facility sat an information center chock full of everything from horseshoe crabs and red knots to photos of the Mispillion Lighthouse and history of Slaughter Beach.

Dawn Webb, our guide and manager of the center, walked us through the various highlights of the place: through the history of the town section (including interesting folklore of where Slaughter Beach got its name), into the exhibit of the horseshoe crabs (where we got to see a whole slew of tiny little horseshoes swimming around), and into the "video center" where we got to have a private viewing of the PBS program "Crash - A Tale of Two Species Colliding".

The center also housed a bit of wildlife, other than the baby horseshoe crabs. Here they had a tub where lived a larger horseshoe crab, hog chokers, conk shells, blue crabs, and a "mermaid purse", or a skate egg sack.

This is how I learned of the "Just flip 'em" campaign. I must admit, growing up on the Jersey Shore, I was often frightened by these prehistorically looking critters, and would steer clear for fear of a sharp sting from their tale, or a vicious bite from whatever lie underneath the fierce looking shell. But in actuality, these animals are harmless. The menacing looking tale is used as a rudder when swimming and a righting mechanism when flipped on their backs.

So this skittish 26-year-old boy, at first flinching a bit, managed to muster up the courage to hold an animal referred to as a living fossil, and found out first hand how docile they are. Curled up, its tale nearly touching the front of its shell, I gently rubbed my fingertips along its underside, feeling the claws and feet. Then I placed the creature on the tanks floor, upside down, and watched as the tail bent backwards, arching the horseshoe crab up like an elegant gymnast, and slowly flipped itself over.

This is the premise of "Just flip 'em" – horseshoe crabs are harmless, calm animals that once in awhile may need the sea life equivalent of AAA. During spawning season, when they migrate a shore, they tend to get flipped over for one reason or another, and there is no harm in helping them out by giving them a flip.

After Dawn kindly answered our one thousandth question, we snuck out into the rain still holding a steady drizzle, though the clouds above promised sheets of water at any given moment; our heads and cameras once again covered by our raincoats.

Getting into the car, our adventure seemed incomplete without actually seeing one of these creatures out and about in the wild. It was a bit to late in the season for the red knots, but there was still a chance to see a horseshoe crab or two. So we cruised slowly down the road until we found a sandy beach tucked away behind the local fire company.

Once again, we found ourselves braving the elements as they slowly worsened. We stopped to read the placard placed at the beach's entry, but moved on just as fast as the rain was starting to fall. The sand was tough and moist, and getting soggier, but we carried on in high spirits. An there one was, a flipped over horseshoe crab, much bigger than the one I just handled, looking a bit helpless on the beach. "Just flip 'em" I thought to myself, but my childhood fears were trying to get the best of me. In the end, I dug deep and gave the guy (or girl) a little help. As it scuttled along the sand back into the ocean, the rain poured down on our heads, but 4 a.m. didn't seem too early anymore.