Nobody can truthfully say that the Sticklebacks are not good fathers.
There are no other fish fathers who work so hard for their children as
the Sticklebacks do. As to the Stickleback Mothers--well, that is
different.
This particular Stickleback Father had lived, ever since he had left the
nest, with a little company of his friends in a quiet place near the
edge of the pond. Sometimes, when they tired of staying quietly at home,
they had made short journeys up a brook that emptied into the pond. It
was a brook that flowed gently over an even bed, else they would never
have gone there, for Sticklebacks like quiet waters. When they swam in
this little stream, they met the Brook Trout, who were much larger than
they, and who were the most important people there.
Now this Stickleback was a year old and knew much more than he did the
summer before. When the alder tassels and pussy willows hung over the
edge of the pond in the spring-time, he began to think seriously of
life. He was no longer really young, and the days were past in which he
was contented to just swim and eat and sleep. It was time he should
build a home and raise a family if he wanted to ever be a grandfather.
He had a few relatives who were great-grandfathers, and one who was a
great-great-grandfather. That does not often happen, because to be a
Stickleback Great-great-grandfather, one must be four years old, and few
Sticklebacks live to that age.
As he began to think about these things, he left the company of his
friends and went to live by himself. He chose a place near the edge of
the pond to be his home; and he brushed the pond-bottom there with his
tail until he had swept away all the loose sticks and broken shells. He
told some Pond Snails, who were there, that they must move away because
he wanted the place. At first they didn't want to go, but when they saw
how fierce he looked, they thought about it again and decided that
perhaps there were other places which would suit them quite as
well--indeed, they might find one that they liked even better. Besides,
as one of them said to his brother, they had to remember that in ponds
it is always right for the weak people to give up to the strong people.
"It will take us quite a while to move," they said to him, "for you know
we cannot hurry, but we will begin at once."
All the rest of that day each Snail was lengthening and shortening his
one foot, which was his only way of walking. You can see how slow that
must be, for a Snail cannot lift his foot from one place and put it down
in another, or he would have nothing to stand on while he was lifting
it. This was a very hard day for them, yet they were cheerful and made
the best of it.
"Well," said one, as he stopped to rest his foot, "I'm glad we don't
have to build a home when we do find the right place. How I pity people
who have to do that!"
"Yes," said his brother. "There are not many so sure of their homes as
we. And what people want of so much room, I can't understand! A Muskrat
told me he wanted room to turn around in his house. I don't see what use
there is in turning round, do you?"
"No," answered the other Snail, beginning to walk again. "It is just one
of his silly ideas. My shell is big enough to let me draw in my whole
body, and that is house room enough for any person!"
The Stickleback had not meant to look fierce at the Pond Snails. He had
done so because he couldn't help it. All his fins were bristling with
sharp points of bone, and he had extra bone-points sticking out of his
back, besides wearing a great many of his flat bones on the outside. All
his family had these extra bones, and that was why they were called
Sticklebacks. They were a brave family and not afraid of many things,
although they were so small. There came a time when the Stickleback
Father wanted to look fierce, but that was later. Now he went to work to
build his nest.
First he made a little hollow in the pond-bottom, and lined it with
watergrass and tiny pieces of roots. Next, he made the side-walls of the
same things, and last of all, the roof. When it was done, he swam
carefully into it and looked around. Under and beside and over him were
soft grasses and roots. At each end was an open doorway. "It is a good
nest," he said, "a very good nest for my first one. Now I must ask some
of my friends to lay eggs in it for me."
Before doing this, he went to look at the homes built by his neighbors.
After he left the company in the quiet pool, many others did the same,
until the only Sticklebacks left there were the dull-colored ones, the
egg-layers. The nest-builders had been dull-colored, too, but in the
spring-time there came beautiful red and blue markings on their bodies,
until now they were very handsome fellows. It is sad to tell, still it
is true, that they also became very cross at this time. Perhaps it was
the work and worry of nest-building that made them so, yet, whatever it
was, every bright-colored Stickleback wanted to fight every other
bright-colored Stickleback. That was how it happened that, when this one
went to look at the nest of an old friend, with whom he had played
ever since he was hatched, this same friend called out, "Don't you come
near my nest!"
The visiting Stickleback replied, "I shall if I want to!" Then they swam
at each other and flopped and splashed and pushed and jabbed until both
were very tired and sore, and each was glad to stay by his own home.
This was the time when they wanted to look fierce.
[Illustration: THEN THEY SWAM AT EACH OTHER. _Page 39_]
Soon the dull-colored Sticklebacks came swimming past, waving their
tails gracefully, and talking to each other. Now this fine fellow, who
had sent the Snails away and built his nest, who had fought his old
friend and come home again, swam up to a dull-colored Stickleback, and
said, "Won't you lay a few eggs in my nest? I'm sure you will find it
comfortable."
She answered, "Why, yes! I wouldn't mind laying a few there." And she
tried to look as though she had not expected the invitation. While she
was carefully laying the eggs in the nest, he stood ready to fight
anybody who disturbed her. She came out after a while and swam away.
Before she went, she said, "Aren't you ashamed to fight so? We
dull-colored ones never fight." She held her fins very stiff as she
spoke, because she thought it her duty to scold him. The dull-colored
Sticklebacks often did this. They thought that they were a little better
than the others; so they swam around together and talked about things,
and sometimes forgot how hard it was to be the nest-builder and stay at
home and work. Then they called upon the bright-colored Sticklebacks,
for they really liked them very much, and told them what they should do.
That was why this one said, "We dull-colored ones never fight."
"Have you ever been red and blue?" asked the nest-builder.
"N--no," said she. "But I don't see what difference that makes."
"Well, it does make a difference," said he. "When a fellow is red and
blue, he can't help fighting. I'll be as good-natured as any of you
after I stop being red and blue."
Of course she could not say anything more after that, so she swam off to
her sisters. The bright-colored Stickleback looked at the eggs she had
laid. They were sticky, like the eggs of all fishes, so that they stuck
to the bottom of the nest. He covered them carefully, and after that he
was really a Stickleback Father. It is true that he did not have any
Stickleback children to swim around him and open their dear little
mouths at him, but he knew that the eggs would hatch soon, and that
after he had built a nest and covered the eggs in it, the tiny
Sticklebacks were beginning to grow.
However, he wanted more eggs in his nest, so he watched for another
dull-colored Stickleback and called her in to help him. He did this
until he had almost an hundred eggs there, and all this time he had
fought every bright-colored Stickleback who came near him. He became
very tired indeed; but he had to fight, you know, because he was red and
blue. And he had covered all the eggs and guarded them, else they would
never have hatched.
The dull-colored Sticklebacks were also tired. They had been swimming
from nest to nest, laying a few eggs in each. Now they went off together
to a quiet pool and ate everything they could find to eat, and visited
with each other, and said it was a shame that the bright-colored
Sticklebacks had fought so, and told how they thought little
Sticklebacks should be brought up.
And now the red and blue markings on the Stickleback Father grew paler
and paler, until he did not have to fight at all, and could call upon
his friends and see how their children were hatching. One fine day, his
first child broke the shell, and then another and another, until he had
an hundred beautiful Stickleback babies to feed. He worked hard for
them, and some nights, when he could stop and rest, his fins ached as
though they would drop off. But they never did.
As the Stickleback children grew stronger, they swam off to take care of
themselves, and he had less to do. When the last had gone, he left the
old nest and went to the pool where the dull-colored Sticklebacks were.
They told him he was not looking well, and that he hadn't managed the
children right, and that they thought he tried to do too much.
He was too tired to talk about it, so he just said, "Perhaps," and began
to eat something. Yet, down in his fatherly heart he knew it was worth
doing. He knew, too, that when spring should come once more, he would
become red and blue again, and build another nest, and fight and work
and love as he had done before. "There is nothing in the world better
than working for one's own little Sticklebacks," said he.