Searchin’ for urchins

ANNA MARIA ISLAND, Florida – As a retired woman of a certain age, there’s not a whole lot that can get me up and out before 9 a.m. Keyword being “out.” An urgent veterinary appointment for our beloved Havanese, nature’s call and, of course, pickleball with my peeps. (Just not this year. I shall return.)

On Tuesday morning, though, we had good reason to rise and shine early: strict orders from “Queen E,” our winter maven of shelling and shaming. Most folks around the pool here call her Eileen.

“The early bird gets the sand dollars, girls, so haul your lazy butts over here to the beach by 8!” she said (demanded) in her royally pain in the arse (loving) way Monday. (Here she is below in a 40-second video clip narrated by me.)

We did not dare disappoint Lafayette, Indiana, royalty. Being a recovering rule follower, I woke up at 7:30 and splashed cold water on my sleepy eyes.

We walked (OK, drove) to the entrance of our condo complex, parked the car and meandered (OK, I limped) across the street to search for urchins in the Gulf of Mexico.

It was 8:05. I hadn’t even had my coffee yet. Even Madison was like, “Is it time for ‘The View’ already? Sure hope Whoopi’s on today.”

There we were barefoot in our hoodies and clam-diggers, me holding a Ziplock bag to secure my sand dollar stash and Rebecca swinging a teal green child’s beach bucket bearing a purple octopus. We were stylin’.

No wonder folks walked past us without so much as a nod. That is, until we started loading up on these circular hidden treasures amid the clusters of shells and sharks’ teeth washed up on shore. Then, everyone talked to us.

“Did you find all of those sand dollars?” one woman asked with more than a hint of skepticism. Why, yes, we did. Good morning to you, too.

We felt like CSI detectives looking for clues at a crime scene.

The beauty of sand dollars – which are actually burrowing sea urchins – is in their symbolism and not physical appearance. They have different meanings for people. Some believe the mythological legend that they represent coins lost by mermaids. Another is that they’re from the people of Atlantis.

On the spiritual side, some Catholics believe sand dollars represent the story of Christ: birth, crucifixion and the resurrection of Jesus. On the top in the center of the shell is a star, which represents the Star of Bethlehem.

If you break open a sand dollar, five tiny dove-shaped pieces fall out. For some believers, sand dollars represent peace and love, and the release of good will into the world. I’ll embrace that belief, for sure.

Here are some fun facts about sand dollars you can use next time you need a conversation starter at a party:

• They are not white when they’re alive. That comes from being bleached by the sun when they wash up on shore.

• How to tell if they’re alive? They usually look fuzzy and are brown, red or have a purplish tint. If you’re not sure, leave it be.

• They can’t survive for long outside of water. It’s even illegal in some states to remove them from the water.

• They’re invertebrates who eat with “spines” covered in tiny, hair-like bristles called cilia. It can take them 15 minutes before swallowing and up to two days to digest their food.

• In calm waters, they may stand vertically and bury their edge in the sand. If the water is rough, they lie flat or hide under the sand.

• Most sand dollars live six to 10 years. Young ones can swallow grains of sand to make themselves heavier so it weighs them down.

• They tend to stick together in groups on the ocean floor.

For cold-blooded creatures with no backbone, these are some pretty smart sea cookies.

All told, Rebecca and I made our queen proud. Between us, we found a dozen sand dollars, along with a bucketful of Florida seashells: cockles, lightning whelks, lettered olives and coquinas. Still no luck on spotting the rare junonia shell ($225 on Etsy!) that’s oblong, off-white and covered in brown spots.

Years ago, when we stayed with family on Sanibel Island, the familiar bent-at-the-waist stance used to retrieve seashells was dubbed “the Sanibel Stoop.”

Guess we’ll have to come up with a similar term for us to use here on this seven-mile strip of pure bliss called Anna Maria Island.

Until then, we will be known simply as Queen E’s sleep-deprived subjects.