Clear running water filled the ditch, but the bottom was dull black,
powdery mud. It lay inches deep, layer upon layer of one tiny particle
upon another, and so loose and light that a thick, opaque, smoke-like
column ascended at the slightest touch.
A monster, with the throat and teeth of a crocodile, a flat,
treacherous forehead, and large, dull, malicious eyes, was lying close
to the bottom in the wide, sun-warmed cross-dyke that cut its way
inland from the level depths of the great lake. The entire monster
measured scarcely a finger’s length.
The upspringing water-plants veiled her body and drew waving shadows
over her round, slender tail.
When the sun was shining she liked to stay here among the bottom
vegetation and imitate a drifting piece of reed. Her reddish-brown
colour with the tiger-like transverse stripes made an excellent
disguise. She simply _was_ a piece of reed. Even the sharp-eyed heron,
which had dropped down unnoticed about a dozen yards off, and was now
noiselessly, with slow, cautious steps, wading nearer and nearer, took
her at the first glance for a stick.
All the ditch-water life of a summer day was pulsating around the young
pike.
Water-spiders went up for air and came down with it between their hind
legs, to moor their silvery diving-bells beneath the whorls of the
water-moss. One boat-bug after another, with a shining air-bubble on
its belly to act as a swimming-bag, and for oars a pair of long legs
sticking far out at the sides, darted with great spurts through the
water, or rose and sank with the speed of a balloon. The young pike
peered upwards, and saw in the shelter of a tuft of rushes a collection
of black, boat-shaped whirligigs, showing like dots against the shining
surface. The little water-beetles lay and dozed; but all at once a
sudden storm seemed to descend upon them and they scattered
precipitately, whirling away in wider and wider circles, only to
congregate again just as suddenly, like a flock of sheep.
The young pike disappeared from the heron’s view in a cloud of mud, and
glided off to some distance, finally coming to anchor on a wide
submerged plain in a broad creek, shadowed by a clump of luxuriant
marsh marigolds, whose yellow flowers gleamed out from among the
clusters of green, heart-shaped leaves.
There was never any peace around her. When one animal was on its way
down, another would be on its way up. And the bed of ooze beneath her
was in incessant motion. Sticks moved to right and left; hairy balls
lay and rolled over one another; there was a twisting and turning of
larvae in all directions. The active water-beetles were dredging
incessantly, releasing leaves and stalks which slowly and weirdly rose
to the surface. Air-bubbles, too, were set free, and ascended quickly
with a rotary motion.
Here two large tiger-beetles were fighting with a poor water-bug. The
flat-bodied insect stretched out its scorpion-like claws towards its
enemies, but the tiger-beetles seized it one at each end, beat off its
claws with their strong palpi, and tore its head from its body. It must
have been almost a pleasure to find oneself so neatly despatched!
Everything tortured and killed down here, some, indeed, even devoured
themselves. To lose arms and legs and flesh from their body was all in
the order of the day; and anything resting for but a minute was taken
for carrion.
The big horse-leech had wound its rhythmically serpentine way through
the water. It was tired now, and had just stretched itself out for a
moment’s rest, when the supposed pieces of stick upon which it lay
seized it, and voracious heads with sharp jaws attacked its flesh. It
was within an ace of being made captive for ever, but at last succeeded
in making its escape and pushing off, with two of its tormentors after
it.
The young pike watched attentively the flight of the black leech. She
saw that _to devour others and to avoid being devoured oneself_ was the
end and aim of life.
For a long time she remained quite still, only an undulating movement
of the dorsal fin and the malicious glitter of the eyes revealing her
vitality. Slowly she opened and closed her small, wide mouth, and let
the oxidizing water flow over her blood-red gills.
It was not long before she had forgotten her recent peril, and once
more became filled with the cruel passion of the hunter.
From the shadow of the marsh marigolds she darted under the newly
unfolded leaf of a water-lily. This was a very favourite lurking-place;
she could lie there with her back right up against the under surface of
the leaf, and her snout on the very border of its shadow, ready to
strike. The silvery flash of small fish twinkled around her, and
myriads of tiny shining crustaceans whisked about so close to her nose
that at any moment she could have snapped them up by the score into her
voracious mouth.
It was especially things that moved that had a magic attraction for
Grim. From the time when, but twelve to fifteen days old, she had
consumed the contents of her yolksac, and opened her large voracious
mouth, everything that flickered, twisted and moved, all that sought to
_escape_, aroused her irresistible desire.
In the innermost depths of her being there was an over-mastering need,
expressing itself in an insatiableness, a conviction that she could
never have enough, and a fear that others would clear the waters of all
that was eatable. An insane greed animated her; and even when she had
eaten so much that she could eat no more, she kept swimming about with
spoil in her mouth.
On the other hand, anything at rest and quiet possessed little
attraction for her; she felt no hunger at sight of it, and no desire to
possess it: _that_ she could take at any time.
——Meanwhile, the keen-eyed heron, wading up to its breast in the water,
comes softly and silently trawling through the ditch.
Sedately it goes about its business, stalking along with slow, measured
steps. Its big, seemingly heavy body sways upon its thin, greenish
yellow legs, its short tail almost combing the surface of the water,
while its long, round neck is in constant motion, directing the
dagger-like beak like a foil into all kinds of attacking positions.
[Illustration: “With a hiss it curves its neck and turns the foil
upwards, snapping and biting at its tormentors.”]
Sea-crows and terns scream around it, and from time to time three or
four of them unite in harrying their great rival. Just as the heron has
brought its beak close to the surface of the water, ready to seize its
prey, the gulls dash upon it from behind. With a hiss it curves its
neck and turns the foil upwards, snapping and biting at its tormentors.
An irritating little flock of gulls may go on thus for a long time; and
when at last, screaming and mocking, they take their departure, they
have spoilt many a chance and wasted many precious minutes of the big,
silent, patient fisher’s time.
The gulls once gone, the heron applies itself with redoubled zeal to
its business. From various attacking positions its beak darts down into
the water, but often without result, and it has to go farther afield;
then at last it captures a little eel.
It is not easy, however, to swallow the wriggling captive. The eel
twists, and refuses to be swallowed; so the bird has to reduce its
liveliness by rolling up and down in its sharp-edged beak. Then it
glides down.
This time, too, fortune is disposed to favour the young pike. The
heron, coming up behind her, cautiously bends its neck over the
drifting piece of reed. It sees there is something suspicious about it,
but thinks it is mistaken, and is about to take another step forward.
When only half-way, it pauses with its foot in the air; and the next
moment the blow falls.
Grim only once moved her tail. Then she was seized, something hard and
sharp and strong held her fast, and she passed head foremost down into
a warm, narrow channel.
There was a fearful crush of fish in the channel, and much elbowing
with fins and twisting of tails. Something behind her was pushing, but
the throng in front blocked the way: she could get no farther.
And yet she glided on! Very slowly the thick slimy water in the channel
bore the living, muddy tangle that surrounded her along; she felt the
corners of her mouth rub against the sides of the channel; she could
scarcely breathe.
In the meantime the heron was flying homewards to its young, carrying
Grim and the rest of the catch. Out on the lake lay a boat in which a
man sat fishing. Experience told the bird it was a fisherman, but here
the bird was wrong. The man had a gun in the boat, and as the bird
sailed upwards a shot was fired which compelled it to relinquish a part
of its booty in order to escape more quickly.
Grim was among the fortunate ones. Suddenly the crush in the long, dark
channel grew less, and the sluggish stream of mud that was bearing her
along changed its course. A little later the stream gathered furious
pace and carried her with it; she saw light and felt space round her;
she was able to move her fins.
Then she fell from the heron’s beak, from a height of about twenty
yards. She had time to notice how suffocatingly dry the other world
was. It seemed to draw out her entrails, and all her efforts to right
herself were in vain.
Then she regained her native element; water covered her gills, and she
could begin to swim.