Sea and River-side Rambles in Victoria/Chapter 8
CHAPTER VIII.
"When I have my books," says that eloquent writer, Jonathan Freke Slingsby, "I have old friends, whose cheering looks make amends for coldness in men;" and we echo his thoughts, for no matter what our toils may have been, mentally or bodily, throughout the day, there is always a quiet hour or so before retiring to rest, which we invariably devote to our books, and it is particularly enjoyable too after a day's rambling, such as is described in our last chapter, when with wearied limbs we draw our chair a trifle nearer to the fire,—for have one we must, and a cigar too, after wading for so many hours,—and acquaint ourselves with the habits of such creatures as may hitherto have been unknown to us, or comparing our own observations on them with those of other writers, our Microscope at our elbow, should any important point have to be cleared up or any specimen require aid to decide its status in society.
We had laid aside from our former gatherings, some very lovely specimens of the Echinodermata, and we have them now before us for examination. Amongst these Echinodermata, or hedgehog—skinned creatures, belonging to the division Radiata, we have first the large spiny Starfish, taken from near the bathing houses at Geelong, and a splendid fellow he is, measuring as much as eight inches from the tip of one ray to the extremity of another, each (and he has ten) bristling with spines on the upper part, and alive with myriads of suckers below. Then we have the true types of this class in the Sea Urchins, or Sea-eggs, covered with spines—purple in colour,—most exquisitely fluted, and with a rim at the base of each regularly crenated. There are few who gather the denuded, so called shell of this animal as it is thrown up on our shores, would own the relationship between them. And such jaws as they have, with which our own cannot compare for one moment; here now is a specimen before us from which we have extracted the whole dental apparatus,—it is, to own the truth, the first time we have so carefully observed it. In the living animal merely the five triangular teeth closely fitting together can be noticed, and we were scarcely prepared for the large jaws in which we found them. These jaws are, as the teeth, five in number, and form a five-sided cone, and in a socket passing through each the teeth are imbedded; when examined separately, they are found to resemble in figure a triangular pyramid, the external surface being smooth, with eminences for the attachment of muscles, whilst the other two sides are flat and marked with groovings resembling a very fine file. When fitted together, these grooved flat sides of each jaw are in apposition with the corresponding surface of two others, so that there are in fact ten grinding surfaces formed, between which the food must pass preparatory to its introduction into the digestive canal. The food of the Echinidæ consists of shell fish, but in an allied family the Spatangideæ or Heart Urchins, some magnificent fossil specimens of which we took some years since from the cliffs at Portland Bay (p. 60,) there are no teeth, and they subsist on the animal substances contained in the mud on which they feed, and in which they live. There is something intensely grotesque in the habit which some of the Starfishes have, as we already have remarked, of wriggling themselves about until scarcely anything is left, as much as to say, "very well, if you are determined to persecute us, we have made up our minds that you shall have as little for your pains as possible." There is an immense deal of spitefulness in the whole operation. What next, we exclaim? Are we to see a realisation of Forbes' vignette, where an aged Ophiurus is leading out one of his own race, of tender years and of different sex, to dance ashore to the music of some water elf or other, comfortably seated on a pookawn—qui salt?
But in spite of this propensity, the majority of the Starfishes may be preserved without much difficulty; if brought home in seawater they will expand themselves, and they should then be plunged quickly into a basin of cold fresh water, when they will die so rapidly as not to have time either for consideration, or for breaking themselves into pieces, and Forbes (British Starfishes, p. 32,) recommends that after remaining in this freshwater for an hour or so, they should be dipped, for an instant only, into boiling water, and then dried in the sun or a current of air. The Sea Urchins may also be plunged into cold water, (hot loosens their spines), the dental apparatus carefully removed, and the animal disembowelled with the aid of a piece of stick to which a wad of cotton wool is attached, and frequently rinsed until perfectly sweet, —when so, the jaws may be replaced in a layer of cotton wool.
In turning over the broken fragments of Algae thrown up in heaps on the coast, we not unfrequently find an oblong, leathery, red, shapeless substance, which will no doubt puzzle some of our readers, as to whether it may be regarded as animal or vegetable;—take it up and not unlikely you may have a jet of water squirted into your face. Would you believe now that this is one of the Mollusca, and of the class Tunicata, or Tunic-clad, having, instead of a shelly case to its body, a strong coriaceous covering, with certain orifices—generally two—one branchial, the other anal? They lead an apathetic kind of life, seldom moving from the stones or seaweeds to which they may have attached themselves, but deriving nourishment from the microscopic creatures contained in the currents of water, which they draw in by means of their ciliated respiratory organs, below which is the mouth; the stomach according to Woodward, (Manual, p. 336,) contains chiefly minute particles of the articulated seaweeds, and diatomaceæ. These animals are not unaptly called "Ascidians," from askos, a flask or skin bottle, and are vulgarly known as "Sea-squirts." The rocks at the Barwon Heads, left dry by the retreating tide, are covered with them, and no Aquarium should be without a specimen or two.
Whilst sauntering along the beach at Corio Bay a few days since, we noticed a pair of the delicate little Storm Petrels flitting about over the waves, just skimming them, and dipping their tiny feet into the water as they paused awhile to secure the small fishes, Mollusca, or greasy substances which form their food. These birds, as far as our own observation goes, seldom visit the coast, although probably some of the islands serve as breeding places for them. Those who like ourselves have journeyed hither from other lands, will hail them with a kindly welcome whenever met with, since no matter how boisterous the winds, or how rough the sea, they, ever gay, cheered our long imprisonment on the vasty deep.
But whilst we write, the animals which we had laid aside in a small basin have assumed a very different aspect; the tide being low during our late ramble in the same locality, we had contrived, after exercising a vast deal of forbearance, and making all manner of useless blows with our hammer under water, to detach a very pretty dark-green Actinia, and with it another little gem,—its colour, a very pale grey, with lighter stripes; now its tentacles are expanded—very short and white,—remark too the beauty of this other species from the piles at the Bathing house, handsomely marked with malachite tints, and throwing out pure white tentacles, pink tinted at their base; all these can be easily obtained, and will add very materially to the attractiveness of an Aquarium.
When examining a fine specimen of the Jelly Fish (Rhizostoma) which the Superintendent of the Bathing house was keeping in a large tub of water, we noticed with surprise under its delicate blue umbrella, many parasitic lice upwards of an inch in length, with four antennae, the feet terminated by hooks, and the extremity of the abdomen widened out into a regular caudal fin. Detaching one, it rolled itself up in a manner similar to the Woodlouse (Oniscus), and they both belong to the same order, (Isopoda—equal footed). Large as many of the Jelly Fishes are, the quantity of solid matter which they contain is wonderfully insignificant, and they rapidly become deliquescent on exposure to atmospheric influences, so that we can only liken the chances of good fare which parasites on them entertain, to the Chinamen, who were observed by a friend somewhere in the Chinese Seas, making most persevering efforts to fry these creatures, and evidently sorely puzzled to find how utterly without success their endeavours were. An Octopus was also placed in the same tub with the Jelly Fish, but although the sides were high, and before the water could be reached, several feet of the platform had to be traversed, it managed to effect its escape and regain its native element. Many of its habits displayed a vast amount of apparent cunning, as if it was perfectly aware that we were watching it. Darwin mentions the amusement afforded him by the various arts to escape detection used by an individual to which his attention was directed. "Remaining for a time motionless, it would then stealthily advance an inch or two like a cat after a mouse, sometimes changing its colour: it thus proceeded, till having gained a deeper part, it darted away, leaving a dusky train of ink to hide the hole into which it had crawled."[1]
Those who are geologically inclined, may spend many a pleasant day in examining the soft argillaceous mud, of which the cliffs on Corio Bay are composed: it is full of fossil specimens of Dentalium or Tooth Shells, curved tubes open at the extremities, and either smooth or striated longitudinally; splendid Terebratulæ (Waldheimia probably,) are also there in abundance, some Pectenideæ, &c. The Terebratulce are the shells commonly called "Lamp Shells," from the aperture through which the pedicle, whereby the animal attaches itself to submarine objects, passes, having some similarity to the hole which in a lamp admits the wick. A species is figured at page 60, in company with the Spatangus from Portland Bay. Microscopists will find a beautiful object in the shell of the Waldheimia, and many other Brachiopoda.
But we have yet to speak of the Marine Algæ, and the Aquarium, so that our Sea-side chattings must for a while cease; in all our ramblings in search of the many wonders of Nature we have been forcibly impressed by a vigorous sentence in one of Emerson's Essays, wherein he suggests the advantage which a country life possesses for a powerful mind, over the artificial and curtailed life of cities. He says:—" We know more from Nature than we can at will communicate. Its light flows into the mind evermore, and we forget its presence. The poet, the orator, bred in the woods, whose senses have been nourished by their fair and appeasing changes, year after year, without design, and without heed, shall not lose their lesson altogether, in the roar of cities or the broil of politics. Long hereafter, amidst agitation and terror in National Councils,—in the hour of revolution,—the solemn images shall re-appear in their morning lustre, as fit symbols and words of the thoughts which the passing events shall awaken. At the call of a noble sentiment, again the woods wave, the pines murmur, the river rolls and shines, and the cattle low upon the mountains as he saw and heard them in infancy."
May the Sea-side rambles we have enjoyed together be the means of lightening our hearts here and hereafter,—truly the oftener we wander on the shores of our vast seas, the more diversified our investigations, shall we have reason indeed to own that—
"Things innumerable, both small and great are there."
- ↑ Naturalist's Voyage, p. 7.