CHAPTER IV
NEWTS—A FISH WITH LEGS—NEWTS FEEDING—NEWT-CANNIBALS—CASTING THE SKIN—STRANGE STORIES—ANOTHER NEWT STORY—HATCHING OF YOUNG—TENACITY OF LIFE—THE STICKLEBACK—ITS PUGNACITY—ITS COLOURS—ACCLIMATISATION—THE LAMPERN—A RUSTIC PHILOSOPHER—THE CRAY-FISH—HOW WE CAUGHT IT—REPRODUCTION OF LIMBS—FRESH-WATER SHRIMP—WOODLOUSE AND ARMADILLO.
The Newts, or Efts, or Evats, as they are called in different parts of England, can be easily distinguished from the lizard by the flattened tail, which, being intended for swimming, is formed accordingly.
THE COMMON NEWT.
Two species of these creatures are found in this country, the common Water-Newt and the Smooth Newt. These beautiful creatures may be found in almost every piece of still water, from ponds and ditches up to lakes. The full beauty of the newt is not seen until the breeding season begins to come on, and even then only in the male.
At this time the green back and orange belly attain a brighter tint, and the back is decorated with a wavy crest, tipped with crimson. This crest is continually waving from side to side as the creature moves, and forms graceful curves. The newts are equally at home in water and on land, and in the latter case have often been mistaken for lizards.
One of these animals, when taking a walk, alarmed an acquaintance of mine sadly. He was rather a tall man than otherwise, and did not appear particularly timid; but one day he came to me looking somewhat pale, and announced that he had just been terribly frightened.
“A fish, with legs!” said he, “four legs! got out of the water and ran right across the path in front of me! I saw it run!”
“A fish with legs!” I replied; “there are no such creatures.”
“Indeed there are, though, for I saw them. It had four legs, and it waggled its tail! It was horrible, horrible!”
“It was only a newt,” I replied, “an eft. There is nothing to be afraid of.”
“It was the legs,” said he, shuddering, “those dreadful legs. I don’t mind getting bitten, or stung, but I can’t stand legs.”
Newts are very interesting animals, though they have legs, and can easily be kept in a tank if fed properly. Little red worms seem to be their favourite food, and the newt eats them in a rather peculiar style. I have had numbers of newts of all sizes and in all stages of their growth, and always found them eat the worm in the same way. As the worm sank through the water, the newt would swim to it, and by a sudden snap seize it in the middle. For nearly a minute it would remain with the worm in its mouth, one end protruding from each side of its jaws. Another snap would then be given, and after an interval a third, which generally disposed of the worm.
When they have been swimming freely in a large pond, I have often seen large newts attack the smaller, and try to eat them; but I never saw the attempt successful, though I hear that they have been seen to devour the younger individuals. They always came from behind, as if trying to avoid observation, and then made a sudden dart forward, snapping at the tail of their intended victim. In confinement I never saw even an attempt at cannibalism.
Whether it is invariably the case I cannot say, but every newt that I took cast its skin within a few hours from the time that it was placed in the glass jar. The general surface of the skin came off in flakes, but that from the paws was drawn off like gloves, retaining on their surface all the markings and creases which they exhibited when in their proper place.
How the drawing off of their tiny gloves was effected I could not see, though I watched carefully. They looked beautiful as they floated in the water, being delicate as gossamer, white, and almost transparent. They might have been made for Queen Mab herself, and were so delicate that I never could preserve any of them so as to give a proper idea of their form.
It may be that the change of water might cause the change of skin, for the water in which they were kept was drawn from a pump, and that in which they formerly lived was the ordinary soft water found in ponds.
Pretty as is the newt, it is as harmless as pretty, and notwithstanding has suffered under the reputation of being a venomous creature. The absurd tales that I have heard of this creature could scarcely be believed; and how people with any share of sense could receive such absurdities is matter of wonder. And as usual, the moral of the stories is, that newts are to be killed wherever found. The belief of the poisonous character of the newt is of long standing, as may be seen in the ancient works on natural history. In one of these it is said that its poison is like that of vipers; and there is a description of the formation of its tail which is rather beyond my comprehension:—
“The tail standeth out betwixt the hinder-legs in the middle, like the figure of a wheel-whisk, or rather so contracted as if many of them were conjoined together, and the void or empty places in the conjunctions were filled”.
The capture and domesticating of newts gave dire offence in the village where I lived for some time; and the expressions used when I took a newt in my hands were not unlike those of the Parisians respecting the toad. Sundry ill-omened tales of effets were told me. For example: A girl of the village was filling her pitcher at a stream which runs near the village, when an effet jumped out of the water, sprang on her arm, bit out a piece of flesh, spat fire into the wound, and, leaping into the water, escaped. The girl’s arm instantly swelled to the shoulder, and the doctor was obliged to cut it off.
This was told me with an immensity of circumstantial details common to such narrators, and was corroborated by the bystanders. The wounded lady herself was not to be found, and cross-questions elicited that it “weir afoor their time”. I asked them how the effet which lived in the water, and had just leaped out of it, was able to keep a fire alight in its interior; but they were not in the least shaken, except perhaps in their heads, which were wagged with a Lord Burleigh kind of emphasis.
Then there was the sexton-clerk-gardener-musician and general factotum, who had a newt tale of his own to tell. He had been cutting grass in the churchyard, and an effet ran at him, and bit him on the thumb. He chopped off the effet’s head with his knife, but his thumb was very bad for a week.
Once they got the better of the argument, at all events in the eyes of the owner of the farming stock, and my poor newts were ejected. It happened thus:—
Two or three specimens I kept in my own room in a glass vase, in order to watch them more closely; and some six or seven others lived as stock in the large horse-trough, from whence they could be taken when required.
One day the proprietor came to me and ordered the destruction of my newts, for they had killed one of his calves.
“But,” I remonstrated, “they cannot kill a calf or even a mouse, for they have no fangs and very little mouths. Besides, the calf has not come near this trough.”
So saying, I took up several of the newts, opened their mouths—no easy matter, by the way—and showed that they had no fangs. And I urged, that even if they had been as poisonous as rattlesnakes, it would not have made any difference to the calf, which had never left the cowhouse, and was at the opposite end of the farm-yard, separated by a barn and several gates. But all was useless.
“There are the newts, and there is the dead calf!” was the answer; and so the newts had to go. However, I would not suffer them to be killed, but put them into a bag and took them back to the pond whence they had come.
Afterwards the proprietor said that the calf died because its mother had drunk at the trough in which the poisonous newts were.
Now, the funniest part of the story is, that there was not a horse-pond that did not swarm with efts, and consequently all the foals and calves ought to have died. Only they didn’t.
The care which the female newt takes in depositing her eggs is very remarkable.
THE FEMALE NEWT.
Each egg is taken separately, and by the aid of the fore-paws is regularly tied or twisted up in the leaves of dead plants, for which process different people have different reasons. Some think that it is for the purpose of preventing too ready an access of water, and so to retard their hatching; while some say that it is to guard the egg against voracious water-animals. To the latter opinion I rather incline; perhaps both may be right.
When hatched, the young newt is very like a tadpole, breathing by gills outside its neck. After a while the gills vanish and the legs appear; but it keeps its tail. It is rather curious that the frog tadpole puts forth its hinder-legs first; while in the tadpole of the newt, the fore-legs are the first to show themselves.
After the gills are lost, the newt breathes by means of lungs; and if it is in the water, is forced to rise at intervals for the purpose of breathing.
The tenacity with which these creatures cling to life is quite surprising. Experiments have been tried purposely to see to what degree a body could be mutilated, and yet retain life. They have even been frozen up into a solid block of ice, and, after the thawing of their cold prison, revived, and seemed none the worse for it. I may as well mention that none of these experiments were tried by myself, for I am not scientific enough to care nothing for the infliction of pain; but on one occasion I did try an experiment, and, as it turned out, a very cruel one, although it was not intended for an experiment.
I was studying the anatomy of the frogs and newts; and having eight or ten fine specimens of the latter creature, determined to take advantage of the opportunity. The first thing was, of course, to kill the creature without injuring its structure, and I thought that the best mode of so doing would be to put it into my poison-bottle. This was a large glass jar filled with spirits of wine, in which was held corrosive sublimate in solution. This mixture generally killed the larger insects almost immediately, and seemed just the thing for the newts.
So they were put into the jar—but then there was a scene which I will not describe, which I trust never to see again, and of which I do not even like to think. Suffice it to say, that nearly a quarter of an hour elapsed before these miserable creatures died, though in sheer mercy I kept them pressed below the surface.
Changing our post of observation from the banks of the ponds to those of the running streams, we shall find there many creatures worthy of observation; so many, indeed, that it would be a hopeless task to attempt to give even a slight account of one-fiftieth of them. I shall, therefore, only mention two creatures, as examples of the fish; and these two are chosen because they are exceedingly common, and very different from each other in colour and habits.
The first of these creatures is the common Stickleback, or Tittlebat, as it is sometimes called. There are several species of British sticklebacks; but the commonest, and I think the most beautiful, is the three-spined stickleback.
These little fish derive their name from the sharp spines with which they are armed, and which they can raise or depress at pleasure—as I know to my cost. For being, as boys often are, rather silly, I made a wager that I would swallow a minnow alive; and having made the bet, proceeded to win it. Unfortunately, instead of a minnow, a stickleback was handed to me, which having its spines pressed close to the body, was very like a minnow. Just as I swallowed it, the creature stuck up all its spines, and fixed itself firmly.
THE STICKLEBACK.
Neither way would it go, and the torture was horrid. At last, a great piece of apple that I swallowed gave it an impetus that started it from its position; but it was not for some time, that to me appeared hours, that the fish was disposed of. And even then it left its traces; and if it would be any satisfaction to the fish to know that ample vengeance was taken for its death, it must have been thoroughly gratified.
There are few fish more favoured in point of decoration than the stickleback; although the decoration, like that of soldiers, is only given to the gentlemen, and of them only to the victors in fight.
They are most irritable and pugnacious creatures, that is, in the early spring months, when the great business of the nursery is in progress. And the word nursery is used advisedly; for the stickleback does not leave her eggs to the mercy of the waters, but establishes a domicile, over which her husband keeps guard.
The vigilance of this little sentry is wonderful; and I have often seen fierce fights taking place. Not a fish passes within a certain distance of the forbidden spot, but out darts the stickleback like an arrow, all his spines at their full stretch, and his body glowing with green and scarlet. So furious is the fish at this time that I have sometimes amused myself by making him fight a walking-stick.
If the stick were placed in the water at the distance of a yard or so, no notice was taken. But as the stick was drawn through the water, the watchful sentinel issued from his place of concealment, and when the intruding stick came within the charmed circle, the stickleback shot at it with such violence that he quite jarred the stick.
His nose must have suffered terribly. If the stick were moved, another attack would take place, and this would be continued as long as I liked.
Sometimes a rival male comes by, with all his swords drawn ready for battle, and his colours of red and green flying. Then there is a fight that would require the pen of Homer to describe. These valiant warriors dart at each other; they bite, they manœuvre, they strike with their spines, and sometimes a well-aimed cut will rip up the body of the adversary, and send him to the bottom, dead.
When one of the combatants prefers ignominious flight to a glorious death, he is pursued by the victor with relentless fury, and may think himself fortunate if he escapes.
Then comes a curious result. The conqueror assumes brighter colours and a more insolent demeanour; his green is tinged with gold, his scarlet is of a triple dye, and he charges more furiously than ever at intruders, or those whom he is pleased to consider as such. But the vanquished warrior is disgraced; he retires humbly to some obscure retreat; he loses his red, and green, and gold uniform, and becomes a plain civilian in drab.
Sometimes I have brought on a battle royal between the guardians of several palaces, by dropping in the midst of them a temptation which they could not resist. This was generally a fine fat grub taken from a caddis case. The caddis is large and white, and so can be seen to a considerable distance.
As this sank in the water, there would be a general rush at it, and the ensuing contention was amusing in the extreme. First, one would catch it in his mouth and shoot off; half-a-dozen others would unite in chase, overtake the too fortunate one, seize the grub from all sides, and tug desperately, their tails flying, their fins at work, and the whole mass revolving like a wheel, the centre of which was the caddis worm.
It would be swallowed almost immediately, but the mouth of the stickleback is much too small to admit an entire caddis, and the skin of the grub is too tough to be easily pierced or torn. Half-an-hour often elapses before the great question is settled, and the caddis eaten.
The rapidity of the evolutions and the fierceness of the struggle must be seen to be appreciated—and it is a spectacle easily to be witnessed; wherever there are sticklebacks, caddis worms are nearly certainly found, and it only needs to extract one of these from its case and deposit it judiciously in the water.
The stickleback is a hardy little fish, and can easily be kept in the aquarium, if plenty of room be given to it. It has even been trained to live in seawater, by adding bay-salt to the water in which it dwelt; so that the plan of pickling salmon alive, by a judicious admixture of vinegar and allspice with the water, has something to which to appeal as collateral evidence.
The other representative of the fishes is a very curious one, and can be easily observed. It is called the “Lampern,” and is shown in the accompanying figure.
THE LAMPERN.
In some parts of England the lampern goes by the name of “Seven-eyes,” in allusion to the row of eye-like holes that may be seen extending along the side of the throat. These apertures are the openings by which the water passes from the gills.
The chief external peculiarity in this creature is the mouth, which, instead of being formed with jaws like those of other fishes, resembles none of them, not even those of the eel, which it most resembles externally. Indeed, on looking at the mouth of a lampern, one is forcibly reminded of the leech, for it is possessed of no jaws, and adheres firmly to the skin by exhaustion of the air.
Very delicate food are these lamperns, quite as good as the lampreys themselves, whose excellence is reported to have cost England one of her kings; yet I never knew but one person who would eat them, and very few who would even touch them, they also being called poisonous.
In Germany they know better, and not only eat the lamperns themselves, but, packing them up in company with vinegar, bay leaves, and spices, export them as an article of sale.
The solitary sensible individual of whom I have made mention was truly a wise man. He used to offer the young urchins of the neighbourhood a reward for bringing lamperns, at the rate of a halfpenny per wisketful.
A wisket, I may observe, is a kind of shallow basket, made of very broad strips of willow; and a wisket filled with lamperns would be a tolerable load for a boy.
So, for the sum of one halfpenny, that philosopher was furnished with provisions for a day or more.
Really, the prejudice against the lampern is most singular. Even near London, when lamperns lived in vast numbers in the Thames, they were only used as bait, being sold for that purpose to the Dutch fishermen. In one season, four hundred thousand of these creatures have been sold merely for bait for cod-fish and turbot.
The scientific name for the lampreys is “Petromyzon,” a word signifying “stone-sucker”. The name is rightly applied; for when the lampern wishes to remain still in one place, it applies its mouth to a stone, sticks tightly to it by suction, and there remains firmly at anchor, and defying the power of the stream. In favourable spots, thousands of these fish may be seen together, quite blackening the bottom of the stream with their numbers. They seem specially to affect shallow mountain streams; and, in spite of the rapid current, wriggle their devious way up the stream with great rapidity. When they are not quite pleased with the spot on which they settle down for the time, they scoop it out to their minds in a very short time. This task is accomplished by means of the sucker-like mouth. If a stone is placed in a position that incommodes them, they affix their mouths to it, and drag it away down the stream. In this way they will remove stones which are apparently beyond the power of so small a creature. By perseverance they thus scoop out small hollows, about eighteen inches long and a foot wide, in which they lie in groups so thick that I have more than once mistaken them for dark logs lying in the stream, and was only undeceived by the waving of the multitudinous tails. Year after year the lamperns followed the same course, and chose the same positions, so that we could at any time tell where these creatures would be found by the thousand, where they would be found singly, and where none would be seen at all.
The general thickness of this creature is that of a large pencil, but it varies according to the individual. The length is from one foot to fifteen inches or so.
There is a much smaller species of lampern called the Pride, Sand-pride, or Mud Lamprey, which is not more than half the length of the lampern, and only about the thickness of an ordinary quill. This creature has not the power of affixing itself like the lampern, on account of the construction of its mouth.
Having now taken a hasty glance at the vertebrated animals, we pass to those who have no bones at all, and whose skeleton, so to speak, is carried outside. Our representation of aquatic crustacea, as such creatures are called, will be the Cray-fish and the Water-Shrimp.
THE CRAY-FISH.
Every one knows the Cray-fish, because it is so like a lobster, turning red when boiled in the same way. This red colour is brought out by heat even if applied by placing the shell before a fire, and spirits of wine has the same effect. The last fact I learned from experience, and was very sorry that it was a fact, for the red shell quite spoiled the appearance of a dissected cray-fish that was wanted to look nice in a museum.
Being very delicate food, and, in my opinion, much better than the native lobster, they are much sought after at the proper season, and are sold generally at the rate of half-a-crown for one hundred and twenty.
There are many modes of catching them, which may be practised indifferently. There are the “wheels,” for example, being wicker baskets made on the wire mouse-trap principle, which the cray-fish enters and cannot get out again. Also, there is a mode of fishing for them with circular nets baited with a piece of meat. A number of these nets are laid at intervals along the river bank, and after a while are suddenly pulled out of the water, bringing with them the cray-fish that were devouring the meat.
But the most interesting and exciting mode of cray-fish catching is by getting into the water, and pulling them out of their holes.
Cray-fish take to themselves certain nooks and crannies, formed by the roots of willows or other trees that grow on the bank; and they not unfrequently take possession of holes which have been scooped by the water-rat. The hand is thrust into every crevice that can be detected, and if there is a cray-fish, its presence is made known by the sharp thorny points of the head,—for the cray-fish always lies in the hole with its head towards the entrance.
The business is, then, to draw the creature out of its stronghold without being bitten—a matter of no small difficulty. If the hole is small, and the cray-fish large, I always used to draw it forward by the antennæ or horns, and then seize it across the back, so that its claws were useless.
The power of the claws is extraordinary, considering the size of the creature that bears them. They will often pinch so hard as to bring blood; and when they have once secured a firm hold, they do not easily become loosened. Still, the risk of a bite constitutes one of the chief charms of the chase.
The legitimate mode of disposing of the cray-fish, when taken, is to put them into the hat, and the hat on the head; but they stick their claws into the head so continually, and pull the hair so hard, that only people of tough skin can endure them.
Sometimes, when the bed of the river is stony, the cray-fish live among and under the stones, and then they are difficult of capture; for with one flap of their tail they can shoot through the water to a great distance, and quite out of reach.
It is not unfrequent to find a cray-fish with one large claw and the other very small. The same circumstance may be noted in lobsters. The reason of this peculiarity is, that the claw has been injured, generally in single combat; for the cray-fish are terrible fighters, and the mutilated limb has been cast off. Most wonderfully is this managed.
The blood-vessels of the crustaceans are necessarily so formed, that if wounded, they cannot easily heal; and if there were no provision against accidents, the creature might soon bleed to death.
But when a limb, say one of the claws, is wounded the limb is thrown off—not at the injured spot, but at the joint immediately above. The space exposed at the joints is very small in comparison with that of an entire claw; and as the amputation takes place at a spot where there is a soft membrane, it speedily closes. In process of time, a new limb begins to sprout, and takes the place of the member that had been thrown off.
The eyes of the cray-fish are set on footstalks, so as to be turned in any direction, and they can also be partially drawn back, if threatened by danger. If the eye is examined through a magnifying glass of tolerable power, it will be seen that it is not a single eye, but a compound organ, containing a great number of separate eyes, arranged in a wonderful order. As, however, a description of an insect’s eye will be given at a succeeding page, we at present pass over this organ.
At the proper season of the year, the female cray-fish may be seen laden with a large mass of eggs, which she carries about with her, and by the movement of the false legs that are arranged in double rows on the under surface of the tail, keeps them supplied with fresh streams of water. In process of time, the eggs are hatched; but very few, in comparison, reach maturity. Even the mother herself is apt to eat her own young, when they have set themselves free from her control. I have known this to take place when we were trying to breed cray-fish in a tank. Only one attained to any size, and even that was not so large as a house-fly when we took it from the water.
FRESH-WATER SHRIMP.
TADPOLES AND YOUNG FROG.
The fresh-water Shrimp may generally be found in plenty in any running stream. Its appearance and habits very much resemble the Sandhopper, a little creature that every one must have seen who has walked on a sandy sea-shore. Like the cray-fish, this little creature carries its eggs about until they are hatched. It is a carnivorous animal, and is one of the numerous scavengers of the water, without whose help every stream would soon become putrid and loathsome.
WOODLOUSE, ARMADILLO, AND PILL MILLEPEDE.
Certain species of crustacea inhabit the land; two of which are well known under the titles of Woodlouse and Armadillo. They belong to the class of crustaceans called “Isopod,” or equal-footed, because the legs are all of the same nature; whereas, in the other crustacean, some legs are used for walking, and others are turned into claws, &c. The woodlouse is to be found in myriads under the scaly bark of trees, under stones, and, in fact, in almost every crevice. It feeds mostly on decayed vegetable matters, but also eats animal substances, and vegetables that are not decayed. Some gardeners hold the woodlouse in great horror, and say that nothing is so hard or so bitter that a woodlouse will not eat it. If the bark is removed from an ancient willow tree, any number of these creatures may be discovered, in every stage of existence, scuttling about in great fear at the unwelcome light, and sticking close to the wood in hopes that they may not be seen. Dried coats of the woodlouse may be also seen, empty and bleached to an ivory whiteness. They are night-feeders; and, although they can run fast enough if disturbed, walk very deliberately when only employed in feeding.
The Armadillo-woodlouse is very curious, and easily recognised from its habit of rolling itself into a round ball when alarmed, just like the quadruped armadillo. Its habits are much the same as those of the common woodlouse. Formerly the armadillo was used in medicine, being swallowed as a pill in its rolled-up state. I have seen a drawer half full of these creatures, all dry and rolled up, ready to be swallowed.
On the preceding cut are two armadillo-like animals, much resembling each other, but belonging to different orders. Fig. a is the Woodlouse; b, the Pill Millepede, walking; c, the same rolled up; d is the true Armadillo, walking; and e, the same creature rolled up.
One of the minute crustaceans, the common Cyclops, is shown on plate J, fig. 14. Its length is about the fourteenth of an inch; and though it is so small, the female Cyclops may easily be detected in the water by the curious egg-sacs.