Got Crabs? Too Cliche?

As our time in Litibu has been winding down, Sascha and I repeatedly ask each other the question, "what will you miss the most?"
He lists of names of fruit and fish which are succulently fresh, among many other things. I find the question more challenging. After five and a half months in Mexico, what have I learned to love about it?
Before I get too reflective, I would really prefer this post to be a story. It's the wildlife that I love.
Sascha and I took a walk today, an unusually cloudy day in Litibu, down our beach. We are privileged to live on a beautiful sandy beach, with little windrows of stones, and relatively few visitors. It stretches past the Litibu community into what is called Punta Negra, where a huge semi-abandoned resort full of hotel skeletons looms eerily, with a shiny 600 ft long swimming pool and sea-side showers. It's quite a hike over there, and today we walked to where the sidewalk ends.
Today also happened to be day one of the big crab season. I would categorize the crabs in our area in three ways, all with varying sizes within:
1. Hermit crabs
2. Crabs that dig perfect holes in the sand and have their eyes located on the top of their heads to peek out for predators
3. Crabs that dig caves in the sand and have eyes on the front of their heads

Hermit crabs are an easy win, it's adorable when they curl up into their tiny shells until their legs resemble an armed fortress and frolic across walkways only to get scared and roll away accidentally.
#2 crab types have been seen in abundance, the most frequent resembling spiders in size, shape and color, as they are perfectly camoflauged to the sand. Their little homes fill up with water at every changing tide, but they are always there to rebuild. I would have to add that having an eyeball on the end of a veritable tentacle seems to be a distinct advantage, and all around pretty darn cool.
And today there was some magical sign of nature which triggered #3 to come out of hibernation and get busy livin'. According to our full-time residents, this is approximately three months earlier than normal. There were crab caves, crab villages, and even a crab city. Why they would decide to shack up so close to each other is beyond my knowledge of natural food limits, but it was reminiscent of a prairie dog town, minus the chirping. They shoveled little clawfuls of sand out of their dwellings and rearranged the slipping crumbles until excavation perfection was achieved.

Our stroll-turned-hike revealed this wonder of nature, and Sascha amused himself by playing bullfight with a particularly agressive one, without the traditional ending. It grasped onto his shirt (removed from body) and hung momentarily when lifted. When we reached the end of the beach one and a half hours later, a magical cove awaited us. We were fortunate to be walking at very low tide, the best time for exploring and finding. Large flat rocks with channels carved in them housed little pools, which always house little sea creatures, like snails, and...well, crabs. A daring architect and even more daring inhabitant had built a house overhanging said cove, and at the foot of the steps there were little colonies of tiny hermit crabs. Sascha amused himself by pushing them into the sand and watching the climb their way back out, while I let them crawl over my hands and tried to avoid crushing them with my feet.

As a proclaimed seafood hater, I never expected to love crabs, but they are simply so loveable. So the first answer to the first question would have to be, I will miss the crabs. To be continued...