I rushed out to the beach in Neil Island before breakfast in order to capture traces of the events of the night. The sand was dotted with the tiny structured heaps which mark entrances to the burrows of ghost crabs. All across the sand I could see the dotted lines which mark the roads taken by the crabs as they scuttle around balanced on their claws. A few are marked by deep scores in the sand: things that they dragged into the burrows. This happens every day, but I never managed to find what they hunt and carry with them.