Ode to Crawdads

Crawdads, those brown bastards of backwater and burrows. 
With a face from outer space and two sharp pinchers, you’re something only a devil could love. 
You walk around on spindly little legs, 
eating whatever floats your way from minute minnows to stupid snails.
With a tail that’s stronger than Mountain Home moonshine
you zip through the water blind, escaping whatever wants to get you,
and when you’re caught, those pinchers of yours get right to work, 
grasping and grabbing on to anything and everything. 
Finers, palms, arms and ear lobes. It’s all fair game when the crawdad comes to play. 
Toil and struggle all he might, alas his fate is sealed
from brown to red in the boil, the crawdad becomes a blessing, 
served up with a side of corn and potatoes. 
Oh, crawdad, where is your sting?

Keystone of my childhood and creek bed. You are more than just a tasty meal;
you are vital to keeping the bubbling brook beautiful and bountiful. 
Detritus and darters you consume, 
cycling carbon to keep the clock clicking as you clack your claws.
You are as important as you are ugly,
keeping the creek clean and uncluttered, controlling your domain. 
For all your hard work, we thank you, for being our creek grounds keeper,
and for keeping us fed. 

Ryan Kees is a biology major with a creative writing minor at John Brown University. Ryan has a passion for all forms of aquatic life and seeks to better understand them and their environment.