In the pleasant sunny afternoons of this season of the year we may find
in tolerable abundance the pretty Cork-wing,[98] in such rock-pools
as I have been speaking of. In the shallow hollows of the ledges
they shoot hither and thither, the swift movement just catching the
collector’s eye; but here they are difficult to capture, owing to the
numerous exits and hiding-places among the stones. The deeper basins
are pretty sure of containing one or two, and generally of larger size.
Here the dip-net can be brought into action, and they are readily
taken. But the finest specimens are obtained around the edges of the
rocks in the free water, and where there is considerable depth. Here
the attentive eye discerns them quietly hovering, some yard or two
beneath the surface, deliberately picking their tiny crustacean food
from the drooping weeds, or playing to and fro in little parties of
half-a-dozen, on motionless or gently undulating fins; a pretty sight
to watch. From these seaward edges of the rocks the coarser sea-weeds
growing in a thick fringe, when the tide has left them partly exposed,
hang their tips in the heaving water; and under this grateful shelter
the little Corkwings, as well as other small fishes, their companions,
delight to disport themselves, finding copious food in the purple
obscurity, and getting many a peep through the latticed leaves at their
idler fellows in gamesome play without. If, now, the collector have
provided himself with a stiff ring-net, and a long and stout handle, he
may sift out, as it were, the tenants of these shades, by collecting,
in succession, the drooping weed-tips in the mouth of his net, and
lifting it gently through them; when the lovely little emerald fishes
will be found, two or three at each dip, struggling and panting and
leaping and quivering their helpless fins at the bottom of his bag.
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