Cranch records, as a curious habit of the species, that “they live in excavations formed in the hardened mud, and that their habitations, at the extremities of which they live, are open at both ends.” This description implies a habitat above low water, if not above tide-marks; for where else could “hardened mud” be found? or if it were found in the deep water, how could it come under the observer’s cognizance? However, I know that many marine creatures are littoral in some localities, which are exclusively deep-water subjects in others.
Several observant naturalists have noticed the frequency with which the species is obtained from the stomachs of the larger ground-feeding fishes,—the cod especially. Mr. Ball has taken four at a time from a single cod in Youghal shambles. This is a well-known source for procuring rare specimens of the inhabitants of the deep, particularly Crustacea and the shelled Mollusca; for the fishes are expert and persevering and successful collectors of natural history, and are continually picking up objects for which the naturalist would almost give one of his eyes. Mr. Gordon of Elgin, some years ago, gave a long list of Crustacea, many of them of great rarity, which he had procured from stomachs of cod-fish, “through the agency of Widow Scott and her son John, of the fishing village of Stotfield,” on the Moray Firth. His remarks are suggestive, not only to those residing on the coast, but to the denizens of inland towns. “By a small douceur to the fisherman’s family, and by the assistance of the fish-curer on the coast, the fishmonger of the large town, or of some acquaintance in the fishing village, it is believed that almost any number of these now useless receptacles [viz., cod-stomachs], could be obtained. It may excite at first a little nausea to open up and examine these omnivorous reservoirs, but this will soon pass off; and were it of longer continuance than it is, the stores to be unfolded would amply compensate for all the disagreeable feeling that may for a time arise. It is not only the crustacean that is thus gathered from the inaccessible depths of the ocean, but often the rare shell, with its still rarer inhabitant. The radiated animal and the curious zoophyte will also be found congregated together there; all of them, no doubt, at times mutilated or partly digested, but not unfrequently fresh and complete, as if newly past the voracious jaws.”
NUT-CRAB.
Two or three specimens of another curious crab are also in our haul. Unlike the Gonoplax, the little Nut-crab[116] is not by any means conspicuous in a chaotic heap like this; it requires a sharp eye, and one familiar with the form, to discern him. Remarkably sluggish, he remains motionless; his tiny limbs are almost concealed under the edges of his shell; his body is destitute of sharp angles; its colour is a dull white: in fact the eye might roam over it a dozen times without supposing it anything more than an irregular rubbed quartz pebble.
Yet when you pick it up, it is a pretty little Crab. The form of the body is unlike that of any other of our genera; indeed the type of which it is a representative, though largely developed in the tropical and sub-tropical seas, scarcely reaches to our shores. Some of the allied species in the hotter parts of the globe, are very curious, such as the Calappa, a crab in which the very short limbs are so closely packed to the body, and so wholly concealed by the smooth and rounded shell, that the curious sailor often picks it up and pockets it, as a pretty white stone, little suspecting that he has a living Crab in his fob. And there it lies for hours, perhaps, till he pulls out his supposed pebble, which has not ventured all the while to attempt to crawl.
I believe almost all we yet know of the habits of the timid little Nut-crabs is derived from the portrait that I drew of one of them[117] some years ago, from specimens that I obtained at Weymouth. Since then I have repeatedly kept it in captivity for long periods at a time, and indeed I have one or two now. Yet I have little to add to the sketch I then drew of its manners. It is inert, folding its tiny legs on itself when touched, and remaining motionless for some time. It buries itself in the gravel, descending backwards: this is a somewhat slow process, suited to its usual phlegmatic habit. It brings its hindmost pairs of feet on each side together; then thrusting down their united points, opens and expands them, forcing apart the gravel; at the same moment the posterior part of the body is brought down into the hollow thus made, and the action of the feet is repeated. The process is continued until the hinder parts are covered and the muzzle alone is visible, with the two claws. Thus it sits quite still, reminding one of a toad, the broad triangular pedipalps that fit so close occasionally opening, like the folding-doors of a tiny cabinet, and allowing the palpi to be thrust out to wipe the minute eyes. The face, when examined with a lens through the glass walls of the aquarium, has a most funny expression, being singularly like that of an ancient man.
Like many marine animals, Ebalia uses the hours of the night as its chief season of activity. As long as the candles are in the room, it remains pretty still, but as soon as darkness reigns, it sets out on its travels. Not indeed with the railway pace of some of its fellows does our little ancient travel; he is but a “slow coach;” but he gropes about among the pebbles, and is usually found the next morning, buried at some distance from the point where the previous evening had left him.[118]
BRYER’S NUT-CRAB.
The little specimens before us appear to belong to Ebalia Bryerii. It is porcellaneous white, tinged with pale scarlet. The little feet are painted scarlet on a white ground, especially the swollen-jointed claws, which are very gay, and under a lens show a marbled pattern of rich scarlet. This little Crab has an unique appearance, very attractive. Its motions are quick and sudden, mostly lateral, when alarmed; but it is habitually sluggish. Sometimes it appears to sham death; for if pushed, it at first tries to escape by running; but if the annoyance continues, it stiffens its limbs, and allows itself to be pushed without resistance; and when laid on its back in the water, will lie motionless for a minute or more, then suddenly turn over and crawl away.
Hosts of other things we capture in this summary sweeping of the sea-bottom, and by the time we have drifted down towards the Orestone, till we are close enough to make out the noble leaves of the tree-mallows that grow out of its rocky heights, we have accumulated a marvellous store,—almost enough, indeed, to set up a little provincial museum. Brittle-stars and urchins; cucumbers great and small; bivalve and univalve mollusks; swollen ascidians, smooth and warty; active, shuffling, sucking fishes; heaps of mossy Bryozoa; long bristling tufts of Hydroid zoophytes; naked worms, twining and writhing amidst the mass, gleaming in purple and pearl; sea-mice “armed in gold,” like Virgil’s Orion; tangled masses of Serpula-pipes, every one with its scarlet-crowned tenant; these, and multitudes of creatures besides, come up from the teeming sea-floor, and all at once claim our bewildered attention. And there is not one of the host that is not worthy of it; not one that would not be an eloquent witness of its Creator’s glory; but we must for the present neglect them all (not without hope of another meeting with some of them at least), in order to devote a few moments to one group of remarkable interest.