answered Dad.
“I don’t know why you even bother,” chirped Melody, leaning against the truck window. “Those clams in Jakolof Bay are so puny. The ones on MacDonald Spit are much bigger. That’s where I always go.”
What a pain! thought Sam. Melody believed she was smarter than everybody, and she was always full of advice. Sam couldn’t stand it.
“That’s what you think …” he started, but his Dad elbowed him. Hard. “Uh, thanks for the tip, Melody. We’ll have to try it there sometime,” Sam finished.
Sam was disgusted as they pulled away from the dock. He resolved to find the biggest clam ever. That would teach Melody.
Dad pulled off the road and carefully eased the truck onto a dirt track. The truck tilted crazily as the tires climbed over some huge spruce roots. Then, suddenly, the track spilled them out of the woods and onto the beach. Sam loved the crunching sound as the tires rolled over empty clam and mussel shells.
The tide was very low. The exposed beach stretched almost halfway across Jakolof Bay. Rising from the beach were three little humps, each supporting a few spruce trees. At high tide the water would surround the humps until they became islands, but for now they were completely dry.
Dad let down the tailgate and Neptune sailed out. She wagged her tail, barked, and danced in excited circles. Dad handed a bucket and spade to Sam, shouldered the rake and shovel, and started walking.
Sam’s new boots left huge prints in the sand. He put his bucket over his head, stretched his arms in front of him, and pretended he was a terrible, big-footed, bucket-headed monster.
Before long Dad and Neptune were far ahead. Sam tried to run to catch up, but in the big rubber boots his feet seemed to stumble over every single stone. Thankfully Dad stopped and Sam caught up.
“Well, this spot looks as likely as any,” he decided. “Let’s get to it! ”
Dad began to dig. It looked like hard work to Sam. Soon Dad was pulling small white clams the size of little cookies from the mud at the edges of the hole. Sam helped, squatting on his heels and picking out clams. In a nearby pool of water, Sam swished the mud from the clams and put them carefully in the bottom of the bucket, so as not to crack their shells. They seemed awfully little to Sam, but he knew they would be just right for chowder. He worked quietly alongside Dad until the big bucket was almost full.
I would like, thought Sam, to find a very large clam.
He looked up and down the beach. His gaze fell on the farthest dry island.
“I’m going to try digging by that island,” Sam announced to his dad. Surely I can find a very large clam way out there, he thought to himself. No one digs there, and I bet the clams grow huge.
Dad laid down his shovel and looked at his watch.
“You’d best be quick about it, Sam,” said Dad. “In fifteen minutes the tide will be turning to come in. Do you see that big rock there, the one with the driftwood log next to it?”
Sam nodded.
“Don’t go past that rock, and make sure you keep an eye on the water. Okay?”
“Sure thing, Dad,” replied Sam, as he tossed his digging spade in his bucket and scampered off down the beach. Neptune ran along beside him.
The receding tide had left pools of water, and Sam and Neptune splashed through just about all of them. A tiny ripple in one pool caught Sam’s eye: it was a wriggling eel! The slippery eel was impossible to catch as it slid through Sam’s fingers.
Just wait until I get my hands on a very large clam, thought Sam. I won’t let him get away.
Sam turned over a rock in another pool and peeled off an orange starfish. Thousands of clear tube-legs waved gently in the air. He looked for a giant clam in the mud under the rock, but all he saw was a baby crab. He picked it up carefully and held it out to Neptune.
“Careful, girl—it’s just a baby, but I’ll bet it could still pinch your nose,” Sam warned the sniffing dog. “Don’t worry. Clams don’t have pinchers.”
Sam wandered from pool to pool, finding squishy nudibranchs, spiny sea urchins, and brittle sea stars. But no large clam.
Under every rock and strand of kelp was a new and glistening treasure. Sam passed the big rock and the driftwood log without even noticing them.
When would he find that clam?
Just as he was about to give up, Sam saw something near the last island. It was a huge stream of water shooting up from the mud like a geyser.
“Look, Neptune!” cried Sam, jumping up and down with excitement. “Could that be the squirt of a very large clam?”
Wrestling the Monster Clam
Sam grabbed his digging spade and raced to the spot. As he stepped on the soft mud next to the clam hole, another geyser shot up. Whooosh!
“Yeee-ha!!” hollered Sam. “This must be the king of all clams!”
Sam dug quickly. Neptune stood on her hind legs and snapped at the flying mud. The tip of Sam’s spade struck something hard.
Could it be?
But it was only a rock. Sam pried the rock out and kept digging. He hit another rock, and another, and another. Sam’s arms were getting tired. As he dug, cold seawater seeped into the hole, making it even harder.
Would he never find this monster clam?
Finally, Sam’s spade scraped something … it felt like the edge of …
… another rock? More water gurgled into the hole and the soft muddy sides started to cave in. Sam scooped out the icy water as fast as he could. He wouldn’t give up now. He was too close.
He found the hard object again. It was the edge of … dig, dig, dig … the shell of … dig, dig, dig … oh, my goodness … A VERY LARGE CLAM!
Sam threw down his spade and began digging out sand with his hands. He knew that the shell would break if he were careless and hit it too hard with the spade. Breaking the shell of a clam would kill it, and Sam knew that dead clams are not safe to eat. Besides, how could he show off a broken shell to Melody Chambers?
He sat back on his heels to rest a moment. Sweat was pouring off him now. Even with the shell still partly buried, Sam could tell that this was the biggest clam he had ever seen. Neptune whined in his ear.
“Settle down, girl. We’ve almost got him.”
Finally he was able to get his hands around the
