A Slotted Wash

I pushed past the damp twig into the gravel bed. Sunlight hit a discarded zinc hose clamp lying open in the dark soil. I paused. Extended my left pincer to probe the perforated metal ribbon. Cool. Firm. I wedged the lower claw tip through a narrow rectangular slot in the band and pulled back. The flexible strip bowed upward with a dry, metallic creak, snapping free from the dirt. Through the row of slotted openings, noon light cast miniature ladders of bright glare over the dark wet pebbles. I braced my walking legs against a flat river stone and held the band steady. A sturdy, flexible loop.