The winners in life's race

by Arabella B. Buckley

Clearly the sturgeon is an old-fashioned fellow, as you may see for yourself, when specimens caught at the mouths of our rivers are shown in the fishmongers’ shops. I have often wondered, when standing looking at him and at the sharks in the British Museum, whether the people who stroll by have any idea what a strange history these quaint old fishes have, or how they stand there among the scaly and bony fishes lying in the cases around, just as an Egyptian and a Chinaman might stand in an English crowd, descendants of old and noble races of long long ago, whose first ancestors have been lost in the dim darkness of ages, whose day of strength and glory was at a time when the modern races had not yet begun to be, and whose representatives now live in a world which has almost forgotten them.

In the silent depths of the large lakes of North America there is a fish called the Bony pike,[15] a huge fellow often six feet long, with a long beak-shaped mouth, which he snaps as he goes, devouring everything that comes in his way. This fish has his body covered with lozenge-shaped, bony, enamelled scales, like the fish of long ago, and so too has the strange Bichir,[16] which wanders above the cataracts of the Nile, with its row of eight to eighteen fins raised upon its back like tiny sails. Then again there are the curious calf-fish of North America,[17] of the Amazons,[18] of the Nile,[19] and of the rivers of Queensland in Australia.[20] These all have gristly skeletons, and together with the sharks and sturgeons make up all that remains of those strange shadows of the past moving among the bony fishes of to-day.

The mud-fishes are indeed the most curious of all, for they breathe both water and air, and in the Nile and Gambia often coil themselves round in the mud when the water goes down, and, lining their bed with slime, sleep comfortably till the rains refill the pools with water.[21] The fact is they have two quite separate ways of breathing. They have gills with which they can take air out of the water like other fish, and these they always use when they can. But they have a tube in their throat leading into the air-bladder lying under their backbone, and through this they can breathe in air when they cannot get it from the water. In Amia especially, which is a true enamel-scaled fish, this air-bladder is divided into numerous cells, and it breathes with it just as with a lung.

Fig. 8.

The Ceratodus of Queensland, an air-breathing and water-breathing mud-fish of the ancient type, with paddle-fins.

It was in the year 1870 that the Ceratodus, or the “Barramunda,” as the Australian natives call him, was discovered in the rivers of Queensland; and since then he has become very famous, for, more than any of the others, he is like the fishes of long ago. He is a lumpy fish, sometimes as much as six feet long, with a gristly cord for a backbone. His body is covered with large rounded scales, and he has a broad fringe round his pointed tail. His fins are more like paddles than fish fins, having several joints, and he uses them, together with his fringed tail, to flap along in the water, or even to wander over the reedy flats at night, chewing the weeds with his broad ridged teeth. And as he flaps along, from time to time, when the water is too muddy for his liking, he comes up to the top, and with a great gulp swallows air into the air-chamber. But before he can do this he must send out the bad air within, and in doing so he gives a grunt which is often heard far away at night in those still Australian wilds. He need not come up for air-breathing, however, if the water is pure, for, strange to say, the whole course of his blood can be altered to suit his wants. When he can get clear water to breathe through his gills the blood flows to them to be freshened, and his air-bladder simply takes in gas from the body as it does in other fishes, and wants feeding with good blood. But when he comes up to breathe then the blood is carried the other way, and comes to the air-bladder to be freshened.

And now if we want to read the history of all these strange forms, you must let me take you by the hand and lead you in imagination back, back through millions of years, to a time so long ago that we cannot even count the ages between. As we recede from our own day we shall leave behind us all the kinds of plants and animals we now know so well, and meet with strange kinds only bearing a general resemblance to them. After a long journey of thousands and thousands of years, in which the plants and animals, and even the very shape of the continents and islands, have gone through many changes, we shall get back to the time when the lime-builders were forming thin layers of chalk at the bottom of the sea, which were afterwards to become our enormous chalk hills. Still backwards we must go through all that long period, and then through three others quite as long, with ever-changing scenes of life and climate and geography, till we find ourselves in those grand old forests whose trees and plants we now dig out as coal.

Even then we must not stop to rest, though we are getting back to the dim ages of the world, for the journey is not yet ended. On, on, backwards through countless years, till we lose sight not only of beasts and birds and reptiles, but even of insects and flowering plants, which, at the time we are reaching, had not yet begun to be. At last we lose almost all life upon the land, so far as we can tell, and after another long period has passed before us we find ourselves in a scene of water, water everywhere.

True, there is a line of shore where strange ferns and unknown club-mosses and reed-like plants are growing; but these only border the vast water-world, and we have reason to believe that no living animal wanders over that wild and barren country. But the water itself is full of life, though its inhabitants are of low kinds, as if Nature herself was as yet only half-awake.