A shrimp's heart is located in its cephalothorax, the fused head-thorax region covered by its shell.
A Shrimp's Heart Is in Its Head (Sort Of)
Next time you're peeling shrimp for dinner, consider this: you're handling an animal whose heart sits where you'd expect its brain to be. Well, sort of.
The popular claim that "a shrimp's heart is in its head" is one of those facts that's technically wrong but functionally right. The heart is actually located in the cephalothorax, the fused head-and-thorax region that forms the front section of a shrimp's body. Because the head and thorax are fused together under a single protective shell called the carapace, the heart appears to be in the head when you crack one open.
A Body Built Different
Shrimp, like all crustaceans, have a three-part body plan: head, thorax, and abdomen. But evolution had other ideas. In adult shrimp, the head fused with the first eight thoracic segments to create the cephalothorax, a unified command center that houses most of the animal's vital organs.
The heart sits in this region, positioned dorsally (toward the back) just above the stomach and behind the eyes. It's a tubular organ that pumps blood through an open circulatory system, meaning shrimp don't have veins and arteries like we do. Instead, their blood (technically called hemolymph) sloshes around their body cavity, bathing the organs directly.
Why This Design Makes Sense
Having the heart in the cephalothorax isn't just anatomical weirdness, it's strategic. The thick carapace covering this region provides excellent protection for the shrimp's most critical organs. The heart, brain, and digestive system all get armored housing while the abdomen remains flexible for swimming.
The heart itself has three pairs of openings where hemolymph enters and exits, circulating nutrients and oxygen throughout the body. It's a surprisingly elegant system for an animal most people only encounter breaded and fried.
So while it's not exactly accurate to say a shrimp's heart is in its head, it's close enough for cocktail party conversation. Just don't try to correct a marine biologist at said party unless you're ready to hear about tagmosis, somite fusion, and the evolutionary advantages of cephalization in decapod crustaceans.
The next time you're at a seafood restaurant, you can impress your dining companions with this tidbit. Or gross them out. Possibly both.

