As I tipped the plastic pot, the juvenile lobster edged forwards, seemingly reluctant to take the plunge. Barely a couple of centimetres long, it had been nurtured through the perilous first weeks of life. Now it was free to roam the sea, with all the risks that entailed.
Shaped like a miniature clothes peg, tiny claws spread wide, it gave a flick of its tail and propelled itself out of the pot and down to the sandy bottom of the rock pool, before disappearing among tangles of seaweed.
