Back so soon with thoughts on motherhood

An amphithoe rubricata, courtesy of Woods Holes via Wikicommons

 (and, as it happens, now part of the University of Washington's Freshwater and Marine Image Bank)

  I have no children of my own, you see, but this still struck a chord. I call it "Motherhood of an Amphithoë."

As her young become ready for independent life, the mother shows impatience to be rid of the swarm in her nest. Using claws and antennae, she pushes them to the rim and with shoves and nudges tries to expel them. The young cling with hooked and bristled claws to the walls and doorway of the familiar nursery. When finally thrust out they are likely to linger nearby; when the mother incautiously emerges, they leap to attach themselves to her body and so be drawn again into the security of their accustomed nest, until maternal impatience once more becomes strong. 

Even the young just out of the brood-sac build their own nests and enlarge them as their growth requires. But the young seem to spend less time than the adults do inside their nests, and to creep about more freely over the weeds. It is common to see several tiny nests built close to the home of a large amphipod; perhaps the young like to stay close to the mother even after they have been ejected from her nest. 

--from pages 94 – 95 of The Edge of the Sea by Rachel Carson