Though the flounders can scarcely be considered as other than common fishes, they always are worth watching. Tom Noddy was all head and no body, but they may be regarded as being nearly all body with very little head, and the two bright black eyes, which look as if they were "stuck on," give them a rather comical aspect. You will find them inquisitive, too. Put your finger in front of their tank, and they will all flock to see what it is. On the contrary, other fishes, such as the pike and carp, will remain stolid and indifferent to any movement you may make, and some, like the timorous trout—for which Isaak Walton loved to angle above any fish,—will be so dreadfully upset at the appearance of your digit that they will dart off in every direction.
"in the orchard." an apple song ([p. 170]).
Little folk may be expected to feel special interest in the pikes, those "fresh-water wolves" and "tyrants of the rivers," as they have been styled in consequence of their ferocity. They thrive well despite their savage gluttony, and attain to a green old age. One was captured in a pond in Sweden, in 1449, with a ring round its neck, which bore an inscription which showed that it had been placed in the pond more than two hundred years before. However that may be, there is no doubt that the pike is a long liver. It is so destructive, that it will clear a pond of all the fishes, not hesitating to attack those even that are nearly as big as itself. There is a case on record of a pike fastening on the lips of a mule, which had been taken to drink in the pond. They have been known to bite at swans and geese, and altogether Jack Pike is a most voracious creature. It may be assumed also that it is unsociable, for it generally swims about by itself, and not in shoals or in companies like other fishes.
the marine bullhead.
Among other inmates of this house which call for mention are carp, gobies, dace, roach, bullhead, gurnard, mullet, basse, and conger-eels. They lead a monotonous sort of life, swimming to and fro in their tanks, in a wearisome way. But their graceful movements and curious colours are worth notice. The conger-eels are comparatively small specimens. Those in the deep sea sometimes attain a gigantic size. They are able to use their tail as a hand, and have been known by means of it to seize the gunwale of the boat in which they were imprisoned and jump into the sea.
One of the quaintest and most interesting inmates of the house, however, is not a fish but an amphibian. There are two groups of amphibians, one called tailless—to which frogs and toads belong—and the other tailed, of which the newt and the axolotl are members. The Zoological Society are fortunate enough to possess specimens of both the black and white axolotl. This creature, which is a native of Mexico, has a strange life-history not unlike that of the frog. It has a sort of tadpole stage of existence, in which it is furnished with a collar of gills and lives in the water. After a while it loses its gills, and its tail and legs grow much less fish-like. There is a kind of lizard look about its permanent form. In the first period of its history it is styled axolotl; in the final period it becomes known as amblystome. They say its flesh is esteemed a delicacy in Mexico.
Visitors seem to regard the anemones—the "most brilliant of living flower gardens," as Charles Kingsley called them—as useful in the way of ornament, and pass their tanks without paying further heed to them. This is not the case with respect to the diving birds, which are beyond all question the centre of attraction in the fish-house. The birds comprise a darter, a cormorant, a guillemot, and a penguin. The first-named is seldom seen in this country. It is a largish bird with webbed feet, long thin neck, and spear-like bill. When swimming in the water with its body entirely submerged, it looks not unlike a snake forging along. Hence it is also known as the snake-neck. The cormorant and darter, though here classed for convenience' sake among the divers, really belong to the pelican family. The guillemot is a diving bird found in the Northern seas, while the penguin may be looked upon as representing the divers of the Southern Ocean. The penguin is a most awkward bird ashore, but in its native element its movements are elegant and rapid. When the keeper has placed some food in the water-tank, the darter is fetched from its cage. The bird takes a swim round, then spots its prey and goes for it with unerring aim. Rising to the surface it throws the fish in the air, catches it in its beak, and bolts it with business-like despatch. It then goes fishing again, and after its wants have been supplied it returns to its house. The other three birds are allowed to dine together. There is no squabbling amongst them. Enough fishes are thrown in to keep them occupied for a few minutes. The speed with which the guillemot cuts the water is truly amazing. Once more one has an opportunity of noticing the clumsiness of the penguin when it tries to leave the water. At either end of the tank a platform with transverse bars is let down for the convenience of the birds, but the silly penguin, instead of going to the end of the platform and gradually working its way upward, sometimes endeavours to climb up the side, its frantic struggles to do so being ludicrous. It does not appear to possess sufficient sense to find its way out in the easiest manner, for Mr Keeper has to assist it with a long iron pole with a hook at the end, by means of which he pushes the bird along to the foot of the platform. The feeding of the birds is a very instructive performance. Unless some such occasion were afforded us of seeing these essentially aquatic birds in the water, one could not have the slightest idea of the power and grace of their movements.