Part 17

The affection of fishes has only been properly understood of late years. It might be supposed that little natural affection existed in this cold-blooded race; and, in fact, fishes constantly devour their own eggs, and, at a later period, their own young, without compunction or discrimination. Some few species bear their eggs about with them until hatched. This was long thought to be the utmost extent of care which fishes lavished on their young; but Dr. Hancock has stepped in to rescue at least one species from this unmerited charge. "It is asserted," he says, "by naturalists, that no fishes are known to take any care of their offspring. Both species of _Hassar_ mentioned below, however, make a regular nest, in which they lay their eggs in a flattened cluster, and cover them over most carefully. Their care does not end here; they remain by the side of the nest till the spawn is hatched, with as much solicitude as a hen guards her eggs, both the male and female Hassar, for they are monogamous, steadily watching the spawn and courageously attacking the assailant. Hence the negroes frequently take them by putting their hands into the water close to the nest, on agitating which the male Hassar springs furiously at them, and is thus captured. The _roundhead_ forms its nest of grass, the _flathead_ of leaves. Both, at certain seasons, burrow in the bank. They lay their eggs only in wet weather. I have been surprised to observe the sudden appearance of numerous nests in a morning after rain occurs, the spot being indicated by a bunch of froth which appears on the surface of the water over the nest. Below this are the eggs, placed on a bunch of fallen leaves or grass, which they cut and collect together. By what means this is effected seems rather mysterious, as the species are destitute of cutting-teeth. It may, possibly, be by the use of their arms, which form the first ray of the pectoral fin."

There is another operation by fishes, which seems to require almost equal experience. Professor Agassiz, while collecting insects along the shores of Lake Sebago, in Maine, observed a couple of Cat-fish, which, at his approach, left the shore suddenly, and returned to the deeper water. Examining the place which the fishes had left, he discovered a _nest_ among the water-plants, with a number of little tadpoles. In a few moments the two fishes returned, looking anxiously towards the nest, and approached within six or eight feet of where Professor Agassiz stood. They were evidently not in search of food, and he became convinced that they were seeking the protection of their young. Large stones, thrown repeatedly into the middle of the nest after the fishes had returned to it, only frightened them away for a brief period, and they returned to the spot within ten or fifteen minutes. This was repeated four or five times with the same result. This negatives the assertion made by some naturalists--that no fishes are known to take any care of their offspring.

But affection is scarcely to be looked for where the offspring is so very numerous as to put all attempts at even recognising them out of the question. How could the fondest mother love 100,000 little ones at once? Yet the number is far exceeded by some of the matrons of the deep. Petit found 300,000 eggs in a single carp; Lenwenhoeck 9,000,000 in a single cod; Mr. Harmer found in a sole 100,000; in a tench 300,000; in a mackerel 500,000; and in a flounder 1,357,000.[14] M. Rousseau disburthened a pike of 160,000, and a sturgeon of 1,567,000, while from this latter class has been gotten 119 pounds weight of eggs, which, at the rate of 7 to a grain, would give a total amount of 7,653,200 eggs! If all these came to maturity the world would be in a short time nothing but fish: means, however, amply sufficient to keep down this unwelcome superabundance have been provided. Fish themselves, men, birds, other marine animals, to say nothing of the dispersions produced by storms and currents, the destruction consequent on their being thrown on the beach and left there to dry up, all combine to diminish this excessive supply over demand. Yet, on the other hand (so wonderfully are all the contrivances of nature so harmonized and balanced), one of these apparent modes of destruction becomes an actual means of extending the species. The eggs of the pike, barbel, and many other fish, says M. Virey, are rendered indigestible by an acid oil which they contain, and in consequence of which they are passed in the same condition as they were swallowed; the result of which is, that being taken in by ducks, grebes, or other water-fowls, they are thus transported to situations, such as inland lakes, which otherwise they could never have attained; and in this way only can we account for the fact, now well ascertained, that several lakes in the Alps, formed by the thawing of the glaciers, are now abundantly stocked with excellent fish.

Little fishes are ordinarily the food of larger marine animals; but a remarkable exception occurs in the case of the larger Medusæ, which are stated in various works to prey upon fishes for sustenance. Mr. Peach, the naturalist, has, however, by observations at Peterhead, in Aberdeenshire, thus corrected this statement. He observed several small fishes playing round the larger Medusæ in the harbour and bay. When alarmed, they would rush under the umbrella, and remain sheltered in its large folds till the danger had passed, when they would emerge, and sport and play about their sheltering friend. When beneath the umbrella they lay so close that they were frequently taken into a bucket with the Medusæ. They proved to be young whitings, varying from 1-1/2 to 2 inches long. These little creatures, so far from becoming the prey of the Medusæ, experienced from them protection; and, moreover, they preferred the _stinging_ one. In no instance did Mr. Peach see a fish in the stomach of the Medusæ, but all could liberate themselves when they pleased. In one case, Mr. Peach witnessed a small whiting, in the first instance chased by a single young pollack, whose assault the little fellow easily evaded by dodging about; but the chaser being joined by others, the whiting was driven from its imperfect shelter, and after being much bitten and dashed about by its assailants, became at length completely exhausted, and lay to all appearance dead. Recovering, however, after action, it swam slowly to the Medusæ, and took refuge as before; but its movements being soon observed, it was again attacked, after a very brief respite, driven into open water, and speedily despatched.

Fishes appear to execute annually two great migrations. By one of these shiftings they forsake the deep water for a time, and approach the shallow shores, and by the other they return to their more concealed haunts. These movements are connected with the purposes of spawning, the fry requiring to come into life, and to spend a certain portion of their youth in situations different from those which are suited to the period of maturity. It is in obedience to these arrangements that the Cod and Haddock, the Mackerel, and others, annually leave the deeper and less accessible parts of the ocean, the region of the zoophytic tribes, and deposit their spawn within that zone of marine vegetation which fringes our coasts, extending from near the high-water mark of neap-tides to a short distance beyond the low-water mark of spring-tides. Amidst the shelter in this region afforded by the groves of arborescent fuci, the young fish were wont in comfort to spend their infancy, but since these plants have been so frequently cut down to procure materials for the manufacture of kelp, and the requisite protection withdrawn, the fisheries have greatly suffered. Many species of fish, as the Salmon, Smelt, and others, in forsaking the deep water, and approaching a suitable spawning station, leave the sea altogether for a time, ascend the rivers and their tributary streams, and, having deposited their eggs, return again to their usual haunts. Even a certain species of fish, inhabiting lakes, as the Roach, betake themselves to the tributary streams, as the most suitable places for spawning.

The Goramy, of India, are stated by General Hardwicke to watch most actively the margins of the spot which they select and prepare for depositing their spawn, driving away with violence every other fish which approaches their cover. The General adds that from the time he first noticed this circumstance about one month had elapsed, when one day he saw numerous minute fishes close to the margin of the grass, on the outer side of which the parent fishes continued to pass to and fro.

There is a species of Grampus from two to three tons weight, and about sixteen feet in length, that amuses itself with jumping, or rather springing its ponderous body entirely out of the water, in a vertical position, and falling upon its back. This effort of so large a fish is almost incredible, and informs us how surprisingly great the power of muscle must be in this class of animal. A Correspondent writes to the "United Service Journal":--"I have seen them spring out of the water within ten yards of the ship's side, generally in the evening, after having swam all the former part of the day in the ship's wake, or on either quarter. When several of these fish take it into their heads to 'dance a hornpipe,' as the sailors term their gambols, at the distance of half a mile, they, especially at or just after sundown, may easily be mistaken for the sharp points of rocks sticking up out of the water, and the splashing and foam they make and produce have the appearance of the action of waves upon rocks. An officer of the navy informed me that, after sunset, when near the equator, he was not a little alarmed and surprised at the cry of 'rocks on the starboard bow!' Looking forward, he indistinctly saw objects which he and all on board took to be pinnacles of several rocks of a black and white colour. In a short time, however, he discovered this formidable danger to be nothing more than a company of dancing Grampuses with white bellies. As one disappeared, another rose; so that there were at least five or six constantly above the surface."

Captain Owen relates that "the Bonita has the power of throwing itself out of the water to an almost incredible distance when in pursuit of its prey, the Flying Fish; and, the day previous to our arrival at Mozambique, one of these fish rose close under our bow, and passed under the vessel's side, and struck with such force against the poop, that, had any one received the blow, it must have been fatal. Stunned by the violence of the contact, it fell motionless at the helmsman's feet; but, soon recovering, its struggles were so furious that it became necessary to inflict several blows with an axe before it could be approached with safety. The greatest elevation it attained above the surface of water was eighteen feet, and the length of the leap, had no opposition occurred, would have exceeded 180."

Of winged or Flying Fish we find this extravagant account in a philosophical romance, entitled, "Telliamed," by M. Maillet, an ingenious Frenchman, of the days of Louis XV.:--

He believed, like Lamarck, that the whole family of birds had existed one time as fishes, which, on being thrown ashore by the waves, had got feathers by accident; and that men themselves are but the descendants of a tribe of sea-monsters, who, tiring of their proper element, crawled upon the beach one sunny morning, and, taking a fancy to the land, forgot to return. The account is as amusing as a fairy tale. "Winged or Flying Fish," says Maillet, "stimulated by the desire of prey, or the fear of death, or pushed near the shore by the billows, have fallen among the reeds or herbage, whence it was not possible for them to resume their flight to the sea, by means of which they had contracted their first facility of flying. Then their fins, being no longer bathed in the sea-water, were split and became warped by their dryness. While they found among the reeds and herbage among which they fell many aliments to support them, the vessels of their fins being separated, were lengthened, or clothed with beards, or, to speak more justly, the membranes which before kept them adherent to each other were metamorphosed. The beard formed of these warped membranes was lengthened. The skin of these animals was insensibly covered with a down of the same colour with the skin, and this down gradually increased. The little wings they had under their belly, and which, like their wings, helped them to walk into the sea, became feet, and helped them to walk on the land. There were also other small changes in their figure. The beak and neck of some were lengthened, and of others shortened. The conformity, however, of the first figure subsists in the whole, and it will be always easy to know it. Examine all the species of fowl, even those of the Indies, those which are tufted or not, those whose feathers are reversed--such as we see at Damietta, that is to say, whose plumage runs from the tail to the head--and you will see fine species of fish quite similar, scaly or without scales. All species of Parrots, whose plumages are different, the rarest and most singular marked birds, are, conformable to fact, painted, like them, black, brown, grey, yellow, green, red, violet colour, and those of gold and azure; and all this precisely in the same parts, where the plumages of these birds are diversified in so curious a manner."

The Jaculator Fish, of Java, has been called "a sporting fish," from the precision with which it takes aim at its prey. In 1828 Mr. Mitchell saw several of these fishes in the possession of a Javanese chief; and here is the account of the curious manner in which these Jaculators were employed. They were placed in a small circular pond, from the centre of which projected a pole upwards of two feet in height. At the top of the pole were inserted small pieces of wood, sharp-pointed, and on each of these were placed insects of the beetle tribe. When the slaves had placed the beetles, the fish came out of their holes, and swam round the pond. One of them came to the surface of the water, rested there, and after steadily fixing its eyes for some time on an insect, it discharged from its mouth a small quantity of watery fluid, with such force, and precision of aim, as to strike it off the twig into the water, and in an instant swallowed it. After this, another fish came, and performed a similar feat, and was followed by the others, until they had secured all the insects. If a fish failed in bringing down its prey at the first shot, it swam round the pond till it came opposite the same object, and fired again. In one instance, a fish returned three times to the attack before it secured its prey; but in general the fish seemed very expert gunners, bringing down the beetle at the first shot. The fish, in a state of nature, frequents the shores and sides of the rivers in search of food. When it spies a fly sitting on the plants that grow on shallow water, it swims on to the distance of five or six feet from them, and then, with surprising dexterity, it ejects out of its tubular mouth a single drop of water, which rarely fails to strike the fly into the sea, where it soon becomes its prey.

Curious fish, in great numbers, may be seen in the Harbour of Port Royal, Jamaica, on the surface of the water, and are ranked among the peculiarities of the place. They are the Guardo, or Guard-Fish; the Jack (Sword-Fish); and the Ballahou. The Jack is the largest, and appears to be always at war with the two others; it is armed with formidable teeth; it basks on the surface of the water during the heat of the day, in a sort of indolent, unguarded state; but this is assumed, the better to ensnare the other fish, and to catch the floating bodies that may happen to pass near it; for the moment anything is thrown into the sea from the ship, the Jack darts with the rapidity of lightning upon it, and seizing it as quickly, retreats. This Warrior-fish possesses a foresight or instinctive quality which we see sometimes exemplified in different animals, almost amounting to second reason, such as the sagacity it displays in avoiding the hook when baited; although extremely voracious, it seems aware of the lure held out for its destruction, and avoids it with as much cunning as the generality of fishes show eagerness to devour it. The situation it takes, immediately in the wake of the ship at anchor, is another instance of its sagacity; as whatever is thrown overboard passes astern, where the fish is ever on the alert for the articles thrown over. No other fish of equal size dare approach. The Jack is, however, sometimes enticed with the bait; but he is more frequently struck with a barbed lance, or entrapped in a net. The Guardo has similar habits with the Jack, but is generally beaten by him; yet the former tyrannizes with unrelenting rigour over the weaker associate, the Ballahou.

The tiger of the ocean, the Shark, is often cruising about Port Royal, but rarely injures human life. At Kingston, however, such distressing events often occur. There was a pet Shark known as "Old Tom of Port Royal;" it was fed whenever it approached any of the ships, but was at last killed by the father of a child which it had devoured. Whilst it remained here, no other of the Shark tribe dare venture on his domain; he reigned lord paramount in his watery empire, and never committed any depredation but that for which he suffered.

Attending the Shark is seen the beautiful little Pilot Fish, who, first approaching the bait, returns as if to give notice, when, immediately after, the Shark approaches to seize it. It is a curious circumstance, that this elegant little fish is seen in attendance only upon the Shark. After the Shark is hooked, the Pilot Fish still swims about, and for some time after he has been hauled on deck; it then swims very near the surface of the water. When the Shark has been hooked, and afterwards escapes, he generally returns, and renews the attack with increased ferocity, irritated often by the wound he has received.

Sharks appear to have become of late years much more numerous in Faroe, as they have also in other parts of the North Seas, especially on the coast of Norway.

The reader may, probably, have found on the sea-shore certain cases, which are fancifully called sea-purses, Mermaids' purses, &c. Now, some Sharks bring forth their young alive, whilst others are enclosed in oblong semi-transparent, horny cases, at each extremity of which are two long tendrils. These cases are the above _purses_, which the parent Shark deposits near the shore in the winter months. The twisting tendrils hang to sea-weed, or other fixed bodies, to prevent the cases being washed away into deep water. Two fissures, one at each end, allow the admission of sea-water; and here the young Shark remains until it has acquired the power of taking food by the mouth, when it leaves what resembles its cradle. The young fish ultimately escapes by an opening at the end, near which the head is situated.

California has yielded an extraordinary novelty in fish history. In 1854 Mr. Jackson, while fishing in San Salita Bay, caught with a hook and line a fish of the perch family _containing living young_. These were supposed to be the prey which the fish had swallowed, but on opening the belly was found next to the back of the fish, and slightly attached to it, a long very light violet bag, so clear and transparent that there could already be distinguished through it the shape, colour, and formation of a multitude of small fish (all facsimiles of each other), with which the bag was filled. They were in all respects like the mother, and like each other; and there cannot remain a single doubt that these young were the offspring of the fish from whose body they were taken; and that this species of fish gives birth to her young alive and perfectly formed, and adapted to seek its own livelihood in the water. Professor Agassiz has confirmed the truth of this extraordinary statement by a careful examination of the specimens, and has ascertained that there are two very distinct species of this remarkable type of fishes.

Tales of "Wonderful Fish" are common in the works of the old naturalists, whence they are quoted from generation to generation. Sir John Richardson has lately demolished one queer fish, which was as certain to reappear whenever opportunity offered, as the elephant pricked with the tailor's needle does in books of stories of the animal world. We allude to that monstrous myth, the great Manheim Pike, with a collar round his neck, put into a lake by the Emperor Frederick II. in the year 1230; and taken out in the 276th year of his age, the 17th foot of his length, and the 350th pound of his weight. M. Valenciennes, a naturalist of repute, has entered into a critical history of this monster, and has found him to be apocryphal. The creature was, at any rate, taken in several places at once, the legends written on his brass collar do not agree, and his alleged skeleton has been found to be made up of various bones of various fishes; while the vertebræ are, unfortunately, so many, that Professor Owen would order him out of Court in an instant as a rank impostor. Probably some specimen of the _Mecho_, the monstrous fish of the Danube--which has even now been scarcely described, and which has only recently been identified as one of the salmon tribe--having been called a pike, may be at the bottom of the legend of the great Manheim fish. But Sir John Richardson produces another big pike, killed by an intrepid "angler seventy years of age, with a single rod and bait"--an observation which leads to the inquiry of the possibility of catching a single fish with more than one rod and bait--"that weighed seventy-eight pounds." This is stated to have happened in the county of Clare; the angler's name was O'Flanagan.