Glimpses of Ocean Life; Or, Rock-Pools and the Lessons they Teach

by John Harper

When residing at Dunham, the seat of the Earl of Stamford and Warrington, he (Dr. Warwick), was walking one evening in the park, and came to a pond where fish intended for the table were temporarily kept. He took particular notice of a fine pike of about six pounds weight, which, when it observed him, darted hastily away. In so doing it struck its head against a tenterhook in a post (of which there were several in the pond, placed to prevent poaching), and, as it afterwards appeared, fractured its skull, and turned the optic nerve on one side. The agony evinced by the animal appeared most horrible. It rushed to the bottom, and boring its head into the mud, whirled itself round with such velocity that it was almost lost to sight for a short interval. It then plunged about the pond, and at length threw itself completely out of the water on to the bank. He (the doctor) went and examined it, and found that a very small portion of the brain was protruding from the fracture in the skull. He then carefully replaced this, and with a small silver toothpick raised the indented portion of the skull. The fish remained still for a short time, and he then put it again in the pond. It appeared at first a good deal relieved, but in a few minutes it again darted and plunged about until it threw itself out of the water a second time. A second time Dr. Warwick did what he could to relieve it, and again put it in the water. It continued for several times to throw itself out of the pond, and with the assistance of the keeper, the doctor at length made a kind of pillow for the fish, which was then left in the pond to its fate. Upon making his appearance at the pond on the following morning, the pike came towards him to the edge of the water, and actually laid its head upon his foot. The doctor thought this most extraordinary, but he examined the fish's skull and found it going on all right. He then walked backwards and forwards, along the edge of the pond for some time, and the fish continued to swim up and down, turning whenever he turned; but being blind on the wounded side of its skull, it always appeared agitated when it had that side toward the bank, as it could not then see its benefactor. On the next day he took some young friends down to see the fish, which came to him as usual, and at length he actually taught the pike to come to him at his whistle, and feed out of his hands. With other persons it continued as shy as fish usually are. He (Dr. Warwick) thought this a most remarkable instance of gratitude in a fish for a benefit received, and as it always came at his whistle, it proved also what he had previously, with other naturalists, disbelieved, that fishes are sensible to sound. (?)

On hunting among the rock-pools by the sea-shore, several peculiar little fishes are frequently to be found, and although some of them cannot be considered suitable for the aquarium, still, for the reader's information, it may be as well that I devote a brief space to a description of the peculiarities of each.

By far the most interesting of all the finny occupants of the rock-pool, is, to my taste, the Smooth Blenny, or, as it is variously termed, Shanny, or Tansy. It is also more abundant than many other species, and may therefore be readily captured during summer. The Blenny varies from two to five inches in length. The back is ornamented with exquisite markings, but the most characteristic features are the peculiar bluntness of the head, and the brilliant crimson dot both on and immediately beneath the eyes.

Although easily tamed, the Blenny, in his native haunts, appears to be the most timid of animals, darting with the rapidity of lightning to the shelter of some stone or overhanging weeds at the remotest indication of approaching footsteps, or the faintest shadow of a human form being cast on the water.

When desirous to procure a specimen, it is best to choose as small a pool as you can for your hunt. Drop in your net at one end, and as the Shanny precipitately retreats to the other, give him chase. Having arrived at the extremity of his domain, he will endeavour to hide among the weeds, but if you hold your net across the pool with one hand, and with the other lift up a stone or beat the bushes, the little fellow will become greatly excited, and darting out, of course, unwillingly, falls into the snare prepared for him.

Having gained your prize, do not handle it, but placing your finger under the net, tilt it over the mouth of the bottle, and allow the Blenny to fall as gently as possible into the water. You need be under no uneasiness after introducing him to the aquarium about the nature of his diet. He is far from being epicurean in his tastes. I supply mine according to my whim at the moment, with whatever is at hand, a bit of fowl, roast beef, or the like.

The only caution I adopt when giving animal food to the Blenny is to remove all traces of fat. I mince their food into minute particles, and having sufficiently moistened it, I place a morsel upon a hair pencil. This attention to their comforts the Blennies soon learn to appreciate, and will, after a while, display at meal times the sagacity of larger animals.

Perhaps the simplest plan to adopt is to cut open a mussel and throw it into the tank. A considerable deal of amusement, moreover, is often to be obtained by watching the fishes engaged at such a meal. How they toss the valves of the Mytilus about, and snap at each other's tails! How vexed they become if by accident the shelly dish is turned topsy-turvy, and resists all their manœuvres to reverse it so as to get at the meat! The valves of a large mussel will sometimes be literally cleaned out by some half dozen Blennies in the course of an hour.

I have noticed a singular fact in connection with the Blenny—namely, that they do not all increase in size as they grow older. Out of five that I kept domesticated for more than two years, one specimen remained at the end of that period of the same size as when I first made its acquaintance in a rock-pool by the sea-shore, while its companions had greatly increased their proportions. But let me in justice add, that if my little finny pet failed to increase in corpulency, it gained largely in intelligence. Who is there that has not seen children, short in stature, and comparatively old in years, who deserve the epithet applied to them by the vulgar, of 'little—but knowing.' This remark would apply with great truth to my 'little Dombey' fish.