In Victorian times people would visit the seashore, just like people do today, except back then it was different. You see, back then, people believed that the little snails called periwinkles were magic. People believed that if you wished to know the name of your true love the periwinkles would write it out in the mud at low tide. Back then everything had a purpose, even squiggly lines in the mud.

Water surrounded Victorian England just like it does today. Periwinkles have lived there for as long as anyone can remember. Some hitched a ride to America on the Mayflower. They liked America and flourished. Now you can find periwinkles all along the East Coast of America, from Maine to Florida.

I don’t think Americans believe periwinkles are magical creatures anymore. Now if someone wants to find their true love they turn on the computer and sign up with computerized matchmaking services. But what does a computer know of true love?

To keep cool in the summer periwinkles point the tip of their shells at the sun. To warm up in the early morning or late afternoon they turn their shells sideways to the sun. Their shells are their homes. Each has a door that is closed at night and opened during the day. They are vegetarians and are peaceful creatures.

No one knows why periwinkles make spiral shaped homes. Their cousins, Terebra Turritella, are similar to periwinkles, except their shell homes are bigger, longer and  pointier, with many more whorls. Alas. There are no magical stories associated with Terebra Turritella. It’s about time to tella one, don’t you think?

Whenever I visit my sister, Kate, in Delray Beach, Fl., I usually take a stroll along the seashore and flip small clam shells over with my big toe before bending down to pick one up. If the shell doesn’t have a small, perfectly round and neatly drilled hole through the hinge area I leave it be.

I look for pre-drilled shells to make into whistle necklaces. Some are colored with bands of browns, golds and charcoal grays. The solid black shells are fossilized and ten thousand years old. All of them are very hard and nearly impossible to break using bare hands.

The holes in the clam shells are drilled by rapacious moon snails. Each snail can eat many clams per week. They use their file-like tongue and acid to drill the hole before injecting digestive enzymes that dissolve the clam. Then they suck the liquefied meal out through the hole and move on to their next victim.

One day I was walking along the beach collecting shells. A lone person was kneeling in the sand several yards below the wrack line. She was wearing gray sweat pants, a long sleeve gray sweat shirt, sneakers and dark sun glasses. She appeared to be about my age and was filling an empty plastic soda bottle with small clam shells. I walked by and said “hi”. She didn’t answer me or even look up. This bothered me for some reason, so I turned around, walked back and knelt down on the sand right in front of her.

Before she had time to react I said ” clam shells make really loud whistles” and picked one up from the sand. I held it between both thumbs, brought my thumbs to my lips and let loose a startlingly loud, high-pitched whistle. She said “you must be whistling with your mouth and I don’t believe the clam shell made the whistle”. So I showed her how to do it. A few minutes later I stood up and continued my walk.

As I was leaving the beach I heard a distant whistle. I turned to see her standing, with one arm raised in a triumphant salute. She whistled again and waved at me. I waved back, whistled with my clam shell and left the beach smiling.