No, this isn't a script to a sequel of a classic horror film. Nor will this piece of work be destined to bring tears to the eyes of all, asking, "George... Why Ewoks? Why?" But this is a story of something seemingly out of a science fiction movie.

At risk of the Host Our Coast blog sounding like a public service announcement for horseshoe crabs, we decided to voyage back to Milford, Delaware to witness a phenomenon whose season is soon ending. From the middle of May to the middle of June, horseshoe crabs creep up onto the beaches of Slaughter in order to spawn, their biggest turnout taken place under the eerie light of a full moon, or the utter darkness of a new one. We happened to be privy to one occurring on a new moon on Monday.

As these fearsome, menacing looking critters made their way out of the dark depths of the sea, Melanie and I walked barefoot with Liz Gordon, our naturalist for the evening, watching out for spiders and sand fleas and ghost crabs hiding out in the washed up sea weed. Guided by headlamps and our cameras' flash bursts, we found our way to clusters of the horseshoe crabs mating under the cover of sand and sea foam.

Small males used their boxing glove shaped claws to latch onto their female companions hoping to fertilize her eggs. She, in turn, dragged her mate similar to Igor pulling the remains of an experiment gone awry. Somewhere along the lines of this odd engagement, the grey and green, ten-eyed beings managed to flip themselves over exposing their many legs, claws and swimmers. They frantically swam through the air, hoping to find a way to right themselves. Their movements, their mouths, their claws - all alien and foreign and creepy underneath the moonless night, but completely harmless (unlike the facehuggers they are reminding of... You know, the ones from Aliens.)

So we continued to saunter down the shoreline, feet and legs soaked by salt water, picking up these odd beasties to examine and assist their return to the watery depths. As we learned more and more, we met a couple from Washington D.C. that ventured out to this secluded shoreline solely to witness this event.

Night had finally arrived hard and decisively and most of the stars were blocked out by the looming clouds. Only in the distance you could find light being projected from phantom ships. We were glad we made it out alive (though there was no reason to think otherwise since there was no danger at all... or WAS THERE?! ...

No, there actually wasn't. It was a blast.