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It would make for some interesting sightings.

Mom! Holy crap, you lied!  Smurfs ARE REAL!......

Concerning this blog:

I was born in Alaska.  Me, my brother, father and mother. We'd spend 2-3 months in a cabin 200+ miles from the nearest town, every summer. My father was a commercial fisherman back in the 70s.  The work was hard, as I remember it.  Not a lot of play time, most of your day was focused on getting food squared off.  Dad would be off hunting local game and the three of us would be picking blueberries, raspberries, and something called "salmon berries" (they were the orange-ish color of salmon meat but tasted like blackberries/raspberries.  Mom would can hundreds of cans of salmon meat, preserves, etc for winter.  Dad would pack in half a dozen deer and a moose.

We'd spend days on the beach clamming.  Or, we'd run up and down the beach with a bottle of bleach.  At every rock outcropping, we'd splash some bleach into the hole.  We'd usually get an octopus shoot out.  Grab the head, reach in, get bit, and pull it inside out.  Instantly dead, though the suckers would latch onto anything for a while.  Good eats there!  Crab pots full of nomnoms, as well.

It was hard. I get a chuckle watching preppers go to the store and.....buy cream of mushroom soup....and think they're ready.

It's been 15 years since I've played that game.  I just started getting back into it.  Come to find out, I've forgotten a lot.  And not having any land of my own, isn't exactly helping.  Ah, the joys of suburban life, sigh......

Note: we didn't grab octo with our bare hands.  Even little octo are poisonous to a degree.  Good leather gloves.  The last thing you want is to have to deal with that bite.  Leaves a nasty, leaky wound for a while.  So, don't go to the beach bare-handed thinking you're going to get dinner with just bleach and an idea, lol.  There's a bit more to it than just that.  I was just giving a lamens version