[Oh? He's... digging a hole. Hmm. Well, alright-- Constantin shuffles over to put the bucket down in it once Abel is through, and like, credit where credit is due: he wasn't going to dig a hole.

He straightens up and looks at it, hands on his hips. Actually...]

How lucky do you suppose we'd have to be to simply stand by while the crabs crawl this way and fall in to meet their maker? Or in this particular case, their pitiable tin fate.

[Can crabs... climb out of buckets... he has no idea.]