The Solen, or Razor-Fish
'His mansion he extends,
So well concealed beneath the crumbling sands.'
XXIII.
Few people who are in the habit of visiting the sea-shore but must have
noticed the empty shells of the animal about to be described. I allude
to the Solen, or Razor-Shell, commonly so called from its resemblance
to the handle attached to a barber's scythe.
This bivalve, improbable as the statement will appear to the
uninitiated, is one of the most efficient burrowers to be met with on
our shores.
By means of its fleshy foot it digs a hole in the mud or sand.
Sometimes it retreats from the surface to a distance of several feet,
but generally remains sufficiently near to allow its short, fringed
siphons to project above the sand.
In walking along the beach, left bare by the receding tide, the
pedestrian may often perceive little jets of water thrown up at his
approach. These jets proceed from the Razor-Fish in question. Although
we may be several yards from his burrow, his sense of feeling is so
acute, that the faintest vibration of the earth around causes the
creature to retire alarmed within his dwelling.
In many places the Solen is much sought after by the poor, who esteem
it a great luxury. In foreign countries--Japan, for example--it is so
highly prized that we are told, 'by express order of the prince of that
country, it is forbid to fish them until a sufficient quantity hath
been provided for the emperor's table.'
The Irish people, when they go out to catch the Solen siliqua, have
an appropriate song and chorus which they sing, but whether to amuse
themselves or charm the fish 'this deponent sayeth not,' for very
obvious reasons. In general, I should think the less noise the more
likelihood of success to those endeavouring to capture this animal.
'Who has not seen the picture of the stupid-looking boy going warily
out with a box of salt, having been gravely informed by some village
wag that if he would only just drop a pinch of salt on the birds' tails
he would be sure to catch them. We are all familiar enough with this
venerable joke, but not so with its successful application in another
case. This time it is the fisherman, instead of the village boy, who
carries the box. He cautiously slips a little salt into the hole,
which irritates the ends of the siphons, and makes the _Solen_ come
quickly out to see what is the matter, and clear itself of this painful
intrusion. The fisher, on the alert, must quickly seize his prey, or
else it will dart back again into its retreat, whence no amount of
salting or coaxing will bring it out again.'
If after reading the above quotation any person should fancy that in
his mind's eye he perceives at many sea-side places, scores of hardy,
weather-beaten fishermen walking about, each armed with nothing but a
box filled with salt, wherewith to bamboozle the Spout-Fish, he will be
most lamentably deceived. True it is, this plan is sometimes adopted by
children and amateur naturalists, but by fishermen--never. Instead of a
salt-box, these, when in search of their favourite bait, always carry
a kind of harpoon, formed of a piece of iron rod, the end of which is
sharpened to a point.
Having witnessed the Solen throw up his jet of water, and retire
beneath the soil, the fisherman suddenly plunges his instrument into
the orifice. Should the action have been skilfully performed, the
rod will have pierced the animal between its valves, which instantly
retract upon the intruding object. To draw the fish to the surface is
then a comparatively easy task. If the first plunge of the rod be not
successful, the fisher knows full well it would be futile for him to
repeat the attempt, as the object of his attack would quickly burrow
itself down to such a depth as to render pursuit hopeless. Juveniles
at the sea-side, imitating the plan above described, become by practice
very expert in procuring specimens of the Razor-Fish by means of a
piece of wire sharpened at one end.