I would come back to Rice from St. Louis just for the Crawfish Boil if it were a little later in April, when the birding is best. April first is unlikely, so this may be my last of this wonderful event. I got the yellow wrist band that allowed the keg people to serve me, but not the red one indicating I had helped, and so could cut in line. But the line moved quickly, and I got my tray of dead crustacean, and a beer, and found a place to sit next to Cin-Ty and some other geologists. It feels a little like killing a buffalo for its liver, but I just don’t know how to easily eat anything but the tail. They’re good, and they remind me of this home. I suppose I could crunch down on the claws, but I didn’t much this time. The cajun music was so loud it was distracting. Our own lab didn’t make a great showing – oh, I guess we’ve graduated most of them. Well, we’ll see what they have in St. Louis, but at Rice University, the Crawfish Boil is one of the best! Note they even sort out the dead ones!
It’s the perfect time of year for this spicy feast!
Here’s my tray. I was smart and went through the line early.
EEB students enjoying the libations, only about-to-pop Juli choosing another drug.
Did they have those flags last year?
Chris and Nick are careful to sort the living from the dead, though Chris takes the dead home and eats them!
It got a lot more crowded than this later!
I feel bad for these guys, harvested from the wild, paid for by Chevron, missing their territoriality and dominance hierarchies.