SHORE FISHES.
We have no intention of attempting to give in this little book an
account of British marine fishes. That is a task that needs several
volumes for its accomplishment. But without going from the shore we may
make acquaintance with a considerable number of fishes. Where trawlers
come in we may, of course, see fish of all sorts, but as in most cases
the trawlers put in with their catch to the nearest market-port, we
shall take no account of this method of increasing our knowledge. From
time to time the local fishermen get strange things in their trammels,
such as enormous angler-fishes; one day one of our fishermen got a
porpoise in this way, and brought it ashore for my special benefit. But
these things also I shall treat as outside our bounds, which includes
only the fish we can find in the rock-pools, or under stones at
low-water, or can catch from the fringing rocks as they haunt the weedy
jungles of such places.
To begin, let us take some fair-sized rock-pool, between tide-marks;
one with irregular walls overgrown with green and purple weeds, and
pinkish coralline--with miniature caverns and clefts in the walls,
and a heavy stone or two at the bottom. In such a pool--and we know
hundreds such--we shall not fail for several examples of fish, though
we are not likely to find all the species here named in one and the
same pool. Three or four species of fish at the most is what we may
expect from one pool; but in several basins within a few yards of each
other we may get a greater variety.
In all probability the first species we shall see in the pool is the
Smooth Blenny or Shanny (_Blennius pholis_), which the boys in my
neighbourhood (South Cornwall) call Janny, and in other districts it
is the Mulligranoc. It is a true rock-fish, never venturing into very
deep water, and preferring those pools between tide-marks where it can
find convenient shelter in holes, or if so inclined can climb out and
pass a few hours under the moist weeds which the ebbing tide has left
uncovered. But it is never many inches from the water, and on the least
sign of alarm it is in the pool and invisible.
[Illustration: SHANNY.]
In many respects it is a clumsy, heavy fish, but its quick intelligence
makes up for defects of form--and we may add, makes it an interesting
fish to keep in a shallow pan with a few stones. You must have the
stones if you would have the Shanny comfortable, for he is strongly
averse to too much publicity. He likes to see and not be seen; and his
favourite attitude, so far as I have observed a number of specimens in
confinement, is on his side under a stone, with the head just peeping
out. In this position he appears to have one eye on the floor of
the tank, the other on the surface of the water. Look at him and he
follows your every movement with one eye. In this position he reminds
me strongly of a dog; indeed, in certain aspects of his profile his
head much resembles that of a dog. He acts like a dog, too, when he has
taken a limpet unawares, and has wrested it from the rock. This is not
an easy thing for a fish to do, and you might almost as well speak of
taking a limpet off-guard as of catching a weasel asleep. But for some
reason--perhaps to thoroughly ventilate his shell, or for the submarine
equivalent for ventilation--the limpet occasionally lifts his shell so
that there is about an eighth of an inch clear space between the edges
of his shell and the rock. He still retains his hold by means of his
powerful sucker-foot, but the wily Shanny, creeping silently up seizes
the shell in his strong lips, and before the limpet can exercise his
muscular powers by pulling down the shell and pinching the shanny’s
lower jaw, the fish, with a shake of his head, has wrested it off
the rock. He carries it about for some time, biting at the flesh and
gradually reducing it in quantity.
Each Shanny occupies his own private corner or crevice of the pool
and shuns the company of his fellows. In this matter he appears to
be a very morose fish, and further he resents anything in the way of
a friendly call. Should the Shanny, who lives in the grotto about
half way along the southern side of the pool, seek to call upon his
neighbour who lives in that delightful retreat at the bottom of
the west end, the latter will rush out at him like a mad bull and
effectually put the visitor to the rout.
In every pool there are a number of juvenile Shannies of various ages
and sizes, but of these the adults do not appear to take much notice.
One of the most noteworthy things about the Shanny--shared I admit
with many other fish, but still worthy of observation--is the rapidity
with which he can make himself practically invisible. It is not easy
to describe the Shanny’s coloration and markings, because it varies
so much in different individuals, and even in the same individual at
different times; but it may be said to be a mottling of greenish-grey
or brown marks, of which the strongest elements are a series of dark
broad stripes, running from the back to about half way down the sides.
The whole of the upper surfaces are liberally sprinkled with small
black or grey dots, and larger ones are scattered over the dorsal fin,
which is continuous from above the gills right along almost to the
tail, which is similarly spotted. There are very few spots on the long
anal fin which is hidden when the fish is resting; but the expansive
oval pectoral fins, which are often spread out widely, have the rays
well-spotted.
You lift up a big stone from the bottom of a pool and out rushes a big
Shanny, causing a great commotion in the water. He makes for a narrow
cleft where there does not seem to be nearly sufficient room for so
big a fish as he; but he has vanished. Knowing where he disappeared
you rout him out again, and once more he frantically flies round and
round the pool, perhaps leaping right out of the water into a tuft of
overhanging _Fucus serratus_. But as likely as not, after dodging about
for two or three turns and splashing the water about, he will quietly
drop to the coralline-covered floor right under your eyes, and you
cannot see him. So admirably does the indefinite marking of his upper
surface harmonise with the coralline and other matters, that he has
become as invisible as a nightjar on the moorland, or as certain moths
on lichen-covered tree-trunks. It will do you no harm to carefully
scrutinise every millimetre of the pool’s floor until you have detected
the Shanny’s whereabouts, but probably you will be assisted in this by
the Shanny himself, who, observing your quietness, will imagine all
danger is past and make a move.
Juvenile Shannies, though as ready to rush into cover as their elders,
are endowed with considerable curiosity; and if in early summer you
come upon a dozen of them sporting about a rock-pool, and will lie down
with your head and shoulders over the water, you will find that their
inquisitiveness is greater than their fear. One after another will come
from his retreat among the weeds and look up at you, rolling his little
eyes knowingly. Then they will creep up the sides of the pool, using
their ventral fins as feet, until their muzzles are out of water. Dip
in the tip of a finger, and they all vanish for a moment; then out
they come again, and slowly approach until they reach your finger; they
attempt to bite it, but their mouths are as yet too small, and then
rush off again. So you may keep them employed for some time, and it
will not be many minutes before several prawns join in the fun. This
may read like an ordinary “fish-story,” but it is a fact that may be
verified by any visitor to a rocky shore.
Next to the Shanny we shall probably find the most reliable fish as
a pool _habitué_ is the Father Lasher, Horny Cobbler, or Sting-fish
(_Cottus scorpio_). Put but the point of a stick in the pool where
the Father Lasher has his retreat under a stone, or drop a winkle
or a pebble in; in an instant he is out with open mouth ready to
swallow anything not too large for his very capacious maw. His
singular name appears to have been given to him on account of his
pugnacity and the villainous expression of his countenance, which
are supposed to belong to a creature who would not hesitate to give
his own parent a thrashing. My own opinion, based upon considerable
personal acquaintance with the Father Lasher is, that he is not
nearly so villainous as he looks. His case is similar to that of the
bull-dog, whose face is no index to the qualities of heart I am told he
possesses. The artists have not been fortunate in depicting the Father
Lasher, and I am not greatly surprised, for even the camera fails to
give a correct and life-like impression of him, which depends not alone
upon curves and lines, but upon colour also.
In some respects he resembles the Shanny in build, but is much broader
across the head and shoulders. He has the same wealth of fins, though
the dorsal fins are not continuous as in the Shanny, and the fin rays
though stout are soft. There is an inclination towards the tadpole
form, especially on the underside, and this tendency is exaggerated
by the fish puffing out his gills and sticking out his pectoral fins
when threatened or alarmed--or when he wishes to inspire with awe.
Just behind each eye and at the top of each gill-cover he has a
bony spine, with smaller ones all over his head, and the inflation of
his jaws and gills is for the purpose of forcing these out. Whether
he makes any use of them in actual warfare I am unable to state, but
they certainly add to his ferocious aspect, and in that way may protect
him from many assaults. The more barbarous of the coast-boys delight
in fixing corks to these spines, and setting Father Lasher free, get
amusement out of his vain efforts to seek his hole at the bottom of the
pool.
The Father Lasher’s colouring is a confusion of bands and circles
and spots; of browns and greens and greys; a serviceable coat that
harmonises well with all its surroundings, and one that is capable of
adaptation when the fish moves from a bare rock basin to one that has a
coralline lining. It can change from dark to light, or _vice versâ_. I
have had them almost white by keeping them in a white porcelain dish.
The underside is delicate yellow, or pearly white, or iridescent green
with darker mottlings.
[Illustration:
FATHER LASHER. WORM PIPE-FISH.
]
In his native pool the Father Lasher likes to take up his quarters
under a stone at the bottom, from which he can suddenly rush out at
anything he sees move across his field of vision. He does not wait to
see what it is; sufficient that it moves. Satisfied that movement is a
sign of life, he secures it in his cavern-like mouth, and then finds
out whether it is a palatable morsel or not; if not, it is summarily
ejected and, as he thinks, no harm is done. An angler who simply
desires sport can get it in a pool where lives a Father Lasher. Drop
down a baited hook, and it will soon be seized by him, but, as he
immediately retires to his den to chew it over, you may pull and pull
before you get him out. Probably you will lose several hooks before
you secure your fish. He is not at all a bad subject for an aquarium
proportioned to his size, and he soon becomes quite affable, allowing
himself to be taken out to exhibit the beautiful marbling of his
underside to friends. For this purpose I have held him gently with my
finger and thumb behind his pectoral fins, when he would obligingly
open his enormous mouth to show how well the jaws and palate are
furnished with teeth. When fully grown he attains a length of five or
six inches.
Our illustration on page 251 contains a portrait of the long and
slender Worm Pipe-fish (_Syngnathus lumbriciformis_), besides that
of the Father Lasher. A more striking contrast could not be desired
between fishes of the same length, for the Father Lasher is thick and
spiny, whilst the Worm Pipe-fish almost comes within the definition of
a line, “length without breadth,” and in addition he is as smooth as an
eel, though of harder exterior. This little fellow might more easily
pass muster as a worm than as a fish. It will more frequently be found
under stones at low-water, but occasionally we shall find it in the
pool twining S-shaped round some seaweed.
The peculiarity of the pipe-fishes, of which we have several native
species, is to have these long tapering bodies, with the snout drawn
out into the form of a beak, but which instead of separating into two
mandibles, opens only at the extremity with a little mouth. Another
distinguishing feature is found in the gills: instead of these being
a series of crimson frills covered by a large plate, fixed only by a
small portion of its edge, and freely opening to allow the passage of
water to and from them, their blood-vessels are gathered into little
tufts which are arranged in pairs. These are all covered in by a bony
plate that is fixed all round, with the exception of a small opening
near the top edge. Then instead of the body being covered with scales
as in many, or most, fishes, these are encased in large plates of mail.
In the male of our Greater Pipe-fish or Greater Sea Adder (_S. acus_),
there is another remarkable item in the shape of a marsupial pouch
of the same practical value as that of the Kangaroo, into which the
female transfers her eggs, and where they not only remain until they
are hatched, but the young fish also use it as a shelter for a time,
coming home unfailingly to roost. This is a fish that may be taken
freely among the weeds of bays and harbours, and as it reaches a length
of from twelve to fifteen inches, it is a giant compared with the
little Worm Pipe-fish.
The Worm Pipe-fish has no fins except that along the back (_dorsal_),
and its tail-fin is almost non-existent; it can, however, be found by
looking for it. It has no marsupial pouch, but the female contrives to
transfer her eggs to the abdomen of the male, where each sinks into a
little pit in which it is held until hatched. How this is accomplished
I have not observed; but as I have found the strings of ova
independently in my aquaria, I should suppose the male presses his body
upon them until they adhere. These eggs are one millimetre in diameter,
amber-coloured, and opalescent. They are firmly attached together in
rows of twos or threes, and these rows in circular strings. They are
firm to the touch and not at all adhesive, so the glutinous matter,
necessary for their adhesion to the male, must be contributed by that
parent. It is interesting to note that when these tiny creatures leave
the egg the tail has a proper broad fin at its extremity and extending
along both the back and underside. It has also pectoral fins; but all
these except a part of that along the back become absorbed, or are
otherwise got rid of as the fish grows and becomes more worm-like.
So smooth and round is this species that it presents little evidence
of being clothed in plates instead of scales, until one looks very
closely, when the outlines of each plate will be found indicated.
If the Worm Pipe-fish be captured with care, and soon transferred
to the aquarium, it will be found quite a hardy and interesting
inhabitant. Of course, its comfort must be studied, and to this end you
must provide a flat stone, so propped up that it is very close to the
bottom of the tank, yet with sufficient space beneath for the Pipe-fish
to wriggle about. I write these notes with such an arrangement before
me, and as I look down through the shallow water I see five slender
cylinders protruding like the barrels of tiny rifles from an ambuscade.
Couch makes the extraordinary statement that, “observation seems to
show that it is not able to raise itself above the ground, on which
it creeps in its endeavours to escape being caught, with a serpentine
motion much like that of a slow-worm.” Observation in my case serves to
controvert Couch. It certainly prefers to remain under stones, and it
is not constructed as a constant swimmer; but it does swim for short
lengths in its pursuit of minute crustaceans, and can be very active
when it pleases.
There are other blennies in the pool besides that one called the Smooth
Blenny or Shanny, and among those that we fancy are young Shannies we
may chance to find Montagu’s Blenny (_Blennius galerita_), a species
easily distinguished by a crimson crest with fringed edges, which it
erects on its head just above the eyes. Its tail and its pectoral
fins, too, are tinged with crimson. Another Blenny, though by no means
so likely to be found generally distributed along the coast is the
striking Butterfly Blenny (_Blennius ocellaris_). It is much like the
Shanny, but with larger and more rounded pectoral fins, and a much
higher dorsal fin. This fin is the feature that at once enables us to
identify the Butterfly among Blennies. It is often divided by one or
two depressions, so that it appears to be two or three fins; but the
important sign is a large deep blue spot surrounded by a light ring
over the centre of the body. This eye-spot gives it the specific name
_ocellaris_. It should also be noted that the first ray of this dorsal
fin is considerably longer than the membranous portion of the fin. The
colour of the fish is olive mottled with brown, but of course it varies
considerably like the species we have already described. Ocellaris has
two little crests upon its head similar to Montagu’s Blenny, and the
Tompot as afterwards mentioned.
In the illustration of the Butterfly Blenny there is a portrait of
a little rock-fish, one of the numerous tribe of Gobies. Several of
them occur in the pools, among them the Rock Goby (_Gobius niger_), or
Black Goby, as he is more often but inappropriately named, for he can
scarcely be said to have any permanent colour when his hues constantly
change as he changes his surroundings. Living among rocks he is more
often brown than black, with lighter and darker mottlings according to
circumstances.
[Illustration:
LITTLE GOBY. BUTTERFLY BLENNY.
]
The reader is advised to make himself acquainted with the names of the
various fins, and to count the rays in each, for these vary with the
species, and are often used in describing and identifying species. We
have introduced the names of these already, but we think it would be
an advantage to repeat them here, and then to use them throughout the
remainder of this chapter.
The Dorsal fin is on the back; if more than one they are first
dorsal and second dorsal.
The Pectoral fins are a pair having their origin just behind the
gills.
The Ventral fins are a pair on the belly, behind and below the
pectorals.
The Anal fin is single, in the middle line of the underside
between the vent and the tail.
The Caudal fin is the termination of the tail, and the form of
this is very important.
The Rock Goby has two dorsals, the first with six rays decreasing in
length as they get further from the head; the second with fifteen rays
of equal length. The pectorals are rounded behind; so are the ventrals,
which are united by a membrane. The anal fin is just under the second
dorsal, if we reckon from the tail forwards, but the second dorsal is
longer than the anal. The space between the dorsal and anal fins is
occupied by eleven or twelve lines of scales. Full-grown specimens vary
from six to nine inches in length.
The species figured in our illustration (page 257) is the Little
Goby (_G. minutus_), a fish from two to three inches in length, of
a yellowish ground colour minutely stippled with brown, its sides
alternately streaked with long and short dark stripes. Dorsal fins two,
the first rounded, narrow from back to front; the second wide from back
to front, and with slightly concave outline. It appears to be more at
home on the sandy than the rocky shore.
In pools that are lavishly decorated with hanging weeds we may find a
number of pretty fishes of a clear green or a rich brown colour. They
are the young of the Corkwing Wrasse, or Rath, as Cornish fishermen
term it (_Crenilabrus melops_), a species that grows only to a length
of six or seven inches. The Wrasses proper (_Labrus_), of which we
shall have something to say directly, are distinguished by the oblong
form of body, by having the gill-covers laid over with scales, and
by the long dorsal fin spread partly over spines and partly over
soft rays. The spiny portion is the three-fifths nearest the head, the
remainder being supported by soft rays. Other characters are thick,
fleshy lips and protruding teeth. The Corkwing is included in the genus
Crenilabrus, which is separated from Labrus on account of the margin of
the first plate of the gill-covers being toothed.
[Illustration: CORKWING WRASSE.]
In general the colouring of the Corkwing Wrasse is brown above, nicely
merging into green on the sides; the gill-covers ornamented with
stripes of red and green. But as we have already indicated, individuals
vary much in colour. From immediately behind the head there runs
parallel with the outline of the back a dark line (the _lateral line_),
which terminates in a well-defined round black spot close to the tail.
We must not look for large specimens, nor for the larger species of
Wrasse, in the pools; but if we get on the edge of the rocks when the
tide is coming in we are almost sure to see some of considerable size
gliding in and out the waving fronds of the rock weeds. They are easily
taken on a line cast from the rocks at this time, the hook being baited
with pilchard or a piece of shore crab. Many are caught in this way for
sport, and then handed over to the crabbers as bait for their pots. For
this purpose they are much appreciated, and special pots are put down
to capture “rath” for bait.
One of the commonest species is the Ballan Wrasse (_Labrus maculatus_),
which is _the_ Wrasse. The ground colour is usually some variation upon
golden orange, and many of the scales have a large pale spot which
earns for the species the name _maculatus_. The spines in the dorsal
fin are twenty, and the soft rays ten or eleven. Certain forms are
known as the Green Wrasse and the Comber Wrasse, under the impression
they are distinct species, whereas they are really colour varieties of
the Ballan Wrasse. The length varies in adults from fifteen inches to
two feet, with a weight of eight or ten pounds.
The Cook or Cuckoo Wrasse (_Labrus mixtus_) is another common kind,
not so large as the Ballan, but more striking in its vivid colouring.
This varies from yellow to red as a ground tint, with two roughly
parallel purple or bright blue thick lines running from above the eye
nearly to the tail. The large eye is crimson with a purple ring round
it, from which run off three short bands of blue or purple across the
gill-covers. All the fins red, the fore part of the dorsal suffused
with blue; a triangular patch of blue also on the upper and lower parts
of the tail. The dorsal fin has eighteen spines and thirteen soft rays.
Should we desire to see the life of the rocks without troubling to
obtain “specimens,” it is a good plan to repair at low tide to the edge
of a drang, and, selecting a station where we shall have a high rock
in front of us and a channel between ourselves and that, wait until
the tide turns. At first there is nothing but the rough floor of the
drang, with stones and rocks of all sorts and sizes scattered untidily
over it. The great broad, leathery fronds of oarweed and the smaller
fronds of bladder wrack and knotted wrack hang over the rocks in great
shaggy masses, and here and there, as though in utter collapse, are
the flaccid forms of the green and drab Opelet Anemone. But as we are
taking stock of the surroundings, there comes a ripple of water along
the deeper ruts and pools of the drang. Silently it streams along
filling the holes, and then gradually spreading right across the stony
floor, and creeping up and up the rocks until there is an inch or more
of it. Then what a change ensues. The free ends of the weeds float
in the stream, the smaller weeds on the bottom pick themselves up,
and shapeless masses become forms of elegance and beautiful colour.
What a few minutes ago looked like the “abomination of desolation,”
is now full of life. The waters are teeming with forms that seem to
rise out of the ground. Certainly they did not--many of them--come in
with the tide. No, they were hidden in holes, under stones, under the
limp weeds, and in crevices of the rock. Here they come. Prawns in
shoals, little Wrasse and big ones, the long lithe forms of Gunnel and
Rockling, the attenuated Fifteen-spined Stickleback, the Weever, and
many another. Our attention is taken by a waving black form near at
hand, and for a few minutes we are at a loss to make out what it can
be. It appears to be a plant of strange nature, for it is evidently
rooted at the bottom. And then a suspicion arises that the swaying
and waving of the ribbon is not entirely caused by the influx of the
tide, but we have not decided what it is, when up it comes with a
green shore crab at the other end of it. It is a small Conger that has
been struggling to bring into the light of day this crab, which it had
tracked to his hole in the bottom. In such a position the crab had
evidently something to cling to, but the Conger had fixed his teeth in
the crab, and it was only a question of time when the crab should be
unable longer to hold out. The Conger is rapidly off to his own special
haunt, there to eat the crab in peace.
The Conger Eel (_Conger vulgaris_) is for its size among the most
powerful of our fishes. The largest specimens, of course, are taken in
deep water, but individuals of considerable size are taken from the
rocks, where they have their retreats in little caverns beneath the
broad fronds of _Laminaria_. Jonathan Couch remarked that he had a note
of a Conger that had been taken weighing one hundred and four pounds,
and of another measuring seven feet two inches which weighed ninety
pounds. Even much smaller monsters than this have to be treated with
caution when caught, the fishermen usually striking them a smart blow
on the tail to disable them and so prevent much mischief. The upper jaw
of the Conger projects over the lower one, which is the reverse of what
obtains among the true eels (_Anguilla_); the dorsal fin, too, begins
much nearer, and as in the eels combines with the ventral fin to form
the tail.
When on the floor of the emptied drang turning stones and lifting weeds
aside, we shall probably hear a great splashing in the shallow pool
behind us, and turning quickly see the waters in commotion, but fail
to detect the cause. But we know from former experience that it is
either a Tompot, a Gunnel, or large Rockling. Fixing our eyes upon a
large stone towards which the surface ripples are setting, we advance
towards it and turn it over. “There he is! quick!” But no; he is as
slippery as butter and glides rapidly through our hands, though not so
quickly but that we could identify him as the Gunnel or Butterfish. We
set out after him again, and rout him out of the corner into which he
had retired in fancied safety. Next time he attempts to shelter under
a stone where there is a cavity only large enough to accommodate his
head and shoulders, but ostrich like, he thinks he is wholly concealed.
Keeping our shrimp-net close up, we seize him just behind the head,
but with a rapid turn his head is withdrawn from the hole and his body
glides through our hand again, and he rushes headlong into the net.
Safe this time, and soon he is transferred to the glass jam-jar where
we can admire his lithe form.
[Illustration: GUNNEL.]
The Gunnel (_Centronotus gunnellus_) looks as though by continually
pushing his way through narrow crevices in the rocks, he had become
laterally flattened. Were he a little rounded we might say his shape
was eel-like, for he is very long, and his dorsal fin stretches from
above the pectoral fin along to the root of the tail. On the lower side
the anal fin similarly extends to the tail, but neither of them merge
into the tail-fin as in the Conger. The colour is a yellowish-brown,
darker on the upper side, which is slightly mottled. Pectoral fins
yellowish. Close up to the dorsal fin on each side of the back is a
series of from eight to twelve--usually nine--very dark round spots,
each encircled with pale brown. The head tapers gently from the dorsal
fin to the small, equal jaws. It is generally known as Butterfish, and
anyone who has undertaken to capture one with his hands alone will
appreciate the fitness of the name, for it is so slippery that it might
have been freshly greased.
Other local names for it are Swordick, in allusion to its sword-shape;
and Nine-eyes, suggested by the ocelli on its back. The name by which
it is best known in books is the Gunnel, which originated in a singular
manner, according to Couch. It appears that John Ray, the celebrated
naturalist, made his acquaintance with this fish on the Cornish coast,
where it is common, and applied to a native for its name. The native
was probably a fisherman, one of a class that takes little account of
the inhabitants of the deep unless they are marketable sorts. He knew
no more about it than John Ray did, but casting around for some analogy
in the shape of the fish, he answered, “It looks like a gunwale”
(pronounced “gunnel”). He thought it resembled the gunwale of a boat;
but Ray naturally took “gunnel” to be the local name for the fish,
and so he inscribed it in his book, and Gunnel has been the English
book-name ever since, and has also been Latinized into _gunnellus_ to
form a scientific name.
To those who are satisfied with a cursory glance at natural objects as
they flash by in life, the Rocklings might pass for Gunnels, and the
Gunnel for a Rockling. The Rocklings’ colour, though more ruddy and
deeper, and their general form though much rounder, are sufficiently
similar to warrant the superficial observer in classing them together.
Their habitat, too, is much the same as the Gunnel’s; and if we go down
at low-water to the edge of the tide, and turn over the large flat
stones that are there, we shall be sure to find a few Rocklings of
various sizes--some a foot or more in length.
Our turning over of the stone is the signal for an excited rush, and a
splashing up of the water as the Rockling dashes from stone to stone,
from hole to hole. After having let him slip through our fingers, or
over our hands, several times, we corner him at last, and transfer
him to a large bottle in spite of his slipperiness. He proves to be
the Five-bearded Rockling (_Motella mustela_), as we see at once by
the four barbs on the upper jaw and the solitary one beneath. These
are really sufficient for identification purposes, for no other of
our shore-haunting fishes is decorated in precisely the same manner.
However, we will briefly indicate the appearance of the fish. The
dorsal fin commences at about one-third of the Rockling’s length,
reckoning from the front, and continues close up to the tail. The
anal fin starts a little beyond the vent and continues near to the
tail below. Pectorals rounded; ventral long and pointed. Just before
the beginning of the dorsal fin there is a long, narrow, and delicate
membrane that looks like another dorsal fin, but is not. Of the barbs
from which the fish gets its distinctive name, two are directed
forwards and upwards, two forwards and outwards, whilst the fifth goes
forwards and downwards.
[Illustration: THREE-BEARDED ROCKLING.]
The Three-bearded Rockling (_Motella vulgaris_) is very like the
last-named species, but has only one pair of barbs on the upper jaw,
and a single one on the lower. Mr. R. Quiller Couch discovered that one
or other of the Rocklings, probably all three--for there is another
species, the Four-bearded (_Motella cimbria_)--build a kind of nest by
jamming fragments of coralline into a cranny, and depositing their eggs
in the mass as the work proceeds.
From one nest-building fish to another is a very easy transition.
The Fifteen-spined Stickleback (_Gasterosteus spinachia_) has long
been famed to be a capital builder of nests. It is at low tide we are
most likely to find this fish, though it does occasionally occur in
the rock-pools higher up. We may be inclined at first sight, previous
to capturing it, to regard it as one of the Pipe-fishes, already
described; but its short and broad dorsal and ventral fins and its
deeply-cut jaws should be sufficient to at once identify it, especially
if an eye is turned to the threatening array of fifteen short stout
spines that arm the back in front of the dorsal fin. Its colour varies
from green to brown; in fact, the one individual changes in hue at
times. It is much larger than its familiar three-spined relative of
fresh-water streams and ponds, and usually attains a length of six
inches. The lower jaw is longer than the upper, and both are furnished
with teeth. By means of a mucus thread they are able to produce, they
weave and bind together some of the softer and more delicate seaweeds,
giving solidity by working in a few branching corallines, until they
have elaborated a large pear-shaped mass, as big as a man’s fist. In
this the eggs are deposited, and thereafter are watched assiduously
by the male parent, who will brook no interference, but will fiercely
attack any would-be spoiler of his nursery.
[Illustration:
FIFTEEN-SPINED STICKLEBACK. LESSER WEEVER.
]
Beneath the illustration of the Stickleback on page 267, there is
represented the fore-portion of the Lesser Weever (_Trachinus vipera_).
It is not strictly a shore fish, but it has the habit, shared by a
larger relative, the Greater Weever (_T. draco_), of half-burying
itself in sand and getting left dry by the ebbing tide. It _may_,
therefore, be found by one of my readers in one of those spits of
sand that occur between the rocks, and it is mentioned here, for the
sake of warning. It must not be caught in the hands like a Shanny or
Gunnel, for on the gill-covers of each side there is a long, hard, and
sharp spine, which the fish knows how to use with such effect that
whoever handles the Weever is likely to have a badly-injured hand.
Terrible stories are told by fishermen of its effects, much of which
are exaggerations; there is sufficient solid basis, however, to make
Weevers undesirable acquisitions, unless we require them for museum
specimens.
There is a glorious, or perhaps I should say a glorified, Blenny to be
obtained sometimes at low spring-tides. It is vulgarly known as the
Tompot, but it has also a literary name (by which I mean a term used
only in books) borrowed from the Italian, namely, Gattorugine; and its
scientific pseudonym is _Blennius gattorugine_. Its colouring is very
similar to that of the Rocklings, except that it is more finely mottled
and dotted. It has the general build and facial expression of the
Shanny, with the crest of Montagu’s Blenny. Its cheeks are full, its
lips thick, eyes large and prominent. The dorsal fin begins immediately
behind the head and continues right along the back to the rounded tail.
The anal fin is continuous from the vent to the tail; the pectorals
rounded, with fleshy rays, and the ventral reduced each to two
fleshy processes with which it feels its way, as do other species of
_Blennius_. It is frequently caught in crab-pots, whither it has gone
for the bait, but it is in turn skewered up as bait when the crabber
hauls and resets his pots. It grows to about nine inches in length.
Being scaleless, like most of the rock-fishes, it is exceedingly
difficult to catch with the hands.
[Illustration: TWO-SPOTTED SUCKER.]
The last of the rock-fishes to which we propose to call attention
are the Suckers (_Liparis_), which must be looked for under stones
at low-water. One of these is the pretty little fish represented in
our illustration, and known as the Two-spotted Sucker (_Lepadogaster
bimaculatus_), a species that rarely exceeds a couple of inches in
length. Its head is broad and flat, the snout sharp, and the tail
rounded. The lower jaw is shorter and narrower than the upper; and
the dorsal and anal fins are both remarkably short, each consisting
only of a few rays (five to seven) with the connecting membrane. They
are placed very far back, though widely separated from the tail.
On the underside at the broadest part of the body there is a sucking
organ, consisting of a double disk united to the pectoral and ventral
fins, and by means of which it quickly attaches itself to stones and
other objects. The general colour is orange mottled with red; but
specimens have been taken of a light brown, dotted with blue. There is
a beautiful eye-like spot on each side, a little behind the pectoral
fin; and it is to the pair of these that the species owes its name.
It should, however, be added, that specimens taken on the shore are
frequently deficient in this ornamental marking. It has a trick when at
rest--and these Suckers appear to be always at rest--of throwing the
hinder portion of the body round until the tail and the pectoral fin
nearly touch.
A much larger species is the Cornish Sucker (_Lepadogaster gouani_),
so called because it was first obtained from the Cornish coast. It is
about four inches in length, of a purple or crimson tint, the under
parts more inclined to pale red. Behind the eyes are two dark spots
in paler rings, and with blue centres. Near the nostrils on each side
are two branched thread-like processes, but of very brief length. The
dorsal fin quite occupies the hinder third of the Sucker’s back, and
with the shorter anal fin runs right up to the tail.
[Illustration: MONTAGU’S SUCKER.]
Montagu’s Sucker (_Liparis montagui_) belongs to another genus. It is
so soft and delicate that certain yellow specimens I find attached to
stones just below my study windows, look as though modelled in butter,
like young Canova’s butter lion. But Couch says its general colour is
chestnut-brown, lighter beneath. The head is broad and flat, the cheeks
chubby, the eyes small. The dorsal fin, which is marked with irregular
dusky clouds, has its fore-end just above the pectorals; it is there
very slight, but a quarter of an inch further back it gently rises to
its full height and continues with equal depth to the tail. The anal
fin is about one-third shorter than the dorsal, the curtailment being
at the fore-end. The tail and some of the fin-rays are prettily dotted
with black. Like the Two-spotted Sucker it reposes with its tail beside
its head.
[Illustration: TOPKNOT.]
And now for a short time we will leave these rocks, and step across
to the sandy shore that spreads for a little distance round this
segment of the bay. We shall not find much animal life there, except
what has been washed in with the loose weeds and rubbish. You see from
the absence of rocks there is no protection, and no firm basis in
the ever-shifting sands for one to make a home. It is only burrowing
molluscs, a crab or two, and two or three fishes that we may expect to
find. Occasionally, where the water is very clear, we may see small
flat-fish swimming in their strange but elegant fashion, and when
wading we may chance to put a bare foot on one that is resting on the
sand, where they are invisible. Among these may be the little Topknot
(_Rhombus punctatus_) of our figure, and the Flounder (_Pleuronectes
flesus_).
[Illustration: LESSER LAUNCE OR SAND-EEL.]
It is a common error to refer to the coloured upper surface of all
flat-fishes as the back; but they are not _de_pressed, they are
_com_pressed, as the position of the fins and gills should teach us.
When quite young their eyes were situated one on each side of the
dorsal line, but from their habit of resting always on one side at the
bottom of the sea, the eye that is below gradually comes to the other
side, so that in the adult flat-fish the pair are close together. The
Skates and Rays, on the other hand, have been flattened from above;
the mouth is underneath, where also are the gill openings, whilst
the eyes, at a proportionate distance from each other, are placed
symmetrically on the upper side.
If we take a trowel or spade we may succeed in digging up some
specimens of the Lesser Launce (_Ammodytes tobianus_), often
incorrectly termed the Sand-eel. He who would catch this beautiful
little fish must be very quick, for if, on being dug out, it is allowed
again to touch the sand, it will disappear with such speed as makes it
well nigh impossible to overtake it again. Couch says it rarely goes
from the sandy shores far into deep water. It swims in small schools in
the quiet waters of bays and harbours where it may be seen in summer
to be chased by mackerel and other fishes. It will be observed in the
accompanying figure that the lower jaw is longer than the upper, and
when the mouth is closed, the fleshy pointed edge of the under jaw
furnishes a valuable instrument for piercing the soft sand when the
Launce is thus beset by enemies. The outline of the fish is so evenly,
gently tapering that there are no elevations that can offer resistance
to its rapid progress through the sand. It has a clean, keen look,
as though the sand had been used for scouring and sharpening it. The
pectoral fins are long and narrow, but there are no ventral fins. The
dorsal fin extends almost from the pectorals to the tail at one height
throughout, and the same description applies to the anal fin in its
course from the vent to near the tail.