A Year at the Shore

by Philip Henry Gosse

SCARLET-FRINGED ANEMONE.

Commingled with these charming Roses, there are others which attain a larger size, occurring in even greater abundance. They are frequently an inch and a half in diameter when expanded, and some are even larger than this. You may know them at once by observing that the outer row of tentacles, and occasionally also some of the others, are of a scarlet hue, which, when examined minutely, is seen to be produced by a sort of core of that rich hue pervading the pellucid tentacle. The species is commonly known as the Scarlet-fringed Anemone.[37] The inner rows of tentacles, which individually are larger than those of the outer rows, are pale, marked at the base with strong bars of black. The disk is very variable in hue, but the column is for the most part of the same rich brown as we saw in the Rosy. Yet, though these are characteristic colours, there are specimens which diverge exceedingly from them, and some approach so near the Roses, as to be scarcely distinguishable from them. Generally, however, the scarlet-cored outer tentacles, and a peculiar habit of throwing the tentacular margin of the disk into crumpled folds, will be found sufficient to determine this very handsome kind of Anemone from its nearest allies.

PLUMOSE ANEMONE.

There are multitudes too of a charming little kind, which, on account of the pure whiteness of the crown of tentacles, is known as the Snowy.[38] The disk is of the same spotless hue; and the column of a light drab deepening into pale olive towards the summit. With the exception of its colours, this species has a very close resemblance to the Rosy, with which it is generally associated, even as we see it here. And here is the Orange-disk,[39] one of exceeding loveliness, which you might fancy a cross-breed between the Rosy and the Snowy, having the rich brown column of the former, and the white tentacles of the latter; but that it has a character of its own in the disk being of the most brilliant orange-red. All these are scattered in the most abundant profusion, looking like gems sown on the rough rock; or, as I compared them before, like gorgeous composite flowers, of which you might easily fancy the little tufts of green and purple Algæ to be the proper leaves. There are also others, less conspicuous, the Daisy, the Sandalled, the Cave-dweller, the Translucent,[40] more or less numerously mingled with the rest, of which I have not space here to speak, but whose history I have elsewhere written in detail.[41] And we see here and there, for the most part crowded into groups, another interesting kind, the Plumose,[42] which differs much in appearance from its associates, having a taller column much more pellucid, and a crown of tentacles so short, so numerous and so dense, as to form a large confused tuft of frills, which cannot be separated into rows. This kind is always of self-colours, which, however, may be light olive, fawn-brown, orange, flesh-colour, or pure white. Those which the tide has left exposed, loll out of their holes and droop; but under the water they stand erect, with a noble boldness. Each group generally contains individuals of all sizes, and may be considered as a single family of several generations, or, to speak more correctly, of several series of offsets, of different ages. For it is highly characteristic of this species to increase by spontaneous division. When a large individual has been a good while adherent to one spot, and at length chooses to change its quarters, it does so by causing its base to glide slowly along the surface on which it rests;—the glass side of the tank, for instance. But it frequently happens that small irregular fragments of the edge of the base are left behind, as if their adhesion had been so strong, that the animal found it easier to tear its own tissues apart than to overcome it. The fragments so left soon contract become smooth, and spherical or oval in outline; and in the course of a week or fortnight each may be seen furnished with a margin of tentacles and a disk; transformed, in fact, into perfect though minute Anemones. Occasionally a separated piece, more irregularly jagged than usual, will, in contracting, constringe itself, and form two smaller fragments, united by an isthmus, which goes on attenuating until a fine thread-like line only is stretched from one to the other; this at length yields, the substance of the broken thread is rapidly absorbed into the respective pieces, which soon become two young Anemones.

All the kinds which we have seen in this locality belong to one great family, the Sagartiadæ, a group which includes nearly one-third of the seventy species of Anemones and Corals which we have on the British coast; and certainly the most beautiful and the most known, taking them one with another. They are distinguished by a remarkable peculiarity; the skin of the body is pierced with minute holes, capable of being opened and closed at will, out of which can be forced curious slender threads, which ordinarily lie coiled up in great profusion in the interior of the animal. These threads are almost entirely composed of those extraordinary capsules, called cnidæ, or nettling-cells, found indeed in most of the tissues, but nowhere in such abundance as here, which eject with amazing force a poisonous filament having the strength and elasticity of a wire, and furnished with reversed barbs, but of almost inconceivable tenuity. The filaments, projected by myriads at the pleasure of the animal, penetrate deeply into the flesh of other soft-bodied creatures, and cause immediate paralysis and speedy death.[43]

DAHLIA WARTLET.

The waning day and the turning tide warn us homeward; but we shall have time to visit a fine dark overarched pool in the rocks which I know on our route. Here it is; noticeable because of its being the chosen residence of a colony of that magnificent species, the Dahlia Wartlet.[44] All round the curving sides of the sea-washed basin, crowding one upon the other beneath the projecting angles, or seated in single majesty on some prominence, we see them flaunting the most gorgeous colours, and attaining a diameter of expanse that no other, at least of our common forms, can rival or approach. The wide but low column, rough with coarse warts, may be olive, or deep green, or purple-crimson, or light green splashed and streaked with scarlet like an apple; the disk is equally varied, but generally displays diverging bands of rich red which fork and embrace the tentacles; while the tentacles, short, stout, and conical, may be white with pellucid rings, deep crimson, or of the highest flush of rose, with a broad ring of lilac. Widely expanded, the Crassicornis is as good a mimicry of the great dahlias of our gardens, as the Sagartiæ are of the daisies and pompone chrysanthemums. Even bees are occasionally deceived. Mr. Couch, when once looking at a fine specimen which was expanded so close to the surface that only a thin film of water covered the disk and tentacles, saw a roving bee alight on the tempting surface, evidently mistaking the anemone for a veritable blossom; the tenacious tentacles instantly seized it, and though it struggled a good deal for its liberty, retained the disappointed bee till it was drowned, when it was soon consigned to the insatiable stomach. The story reminds us of the well-known fact that the flesh-flies, deceived by the carrion smell of some of the Stapeliæ, sometimes lay their eggs on the flowers; both cases showing that animal instinct is not quite so unerring as it is frequently represented.