Glimpses of Ocean Life 8

Glimpses of Ocean Life 8

On turning over a stone, you will perhaps perceive, as I have often

done, three or four specimens, and, unless previously aware of the

peculiarity of their disposition, you will be surprised to see each

little fellow immediately fall upon his back, turn up the whites of his

eyes, and bring his arms or claws together,--

 

'As if praying dumbly,

Over his breast:'

 

making just such a silent appeal for mercy as a pet spaniel does

when expecting from his master chastisement for some _faux pas_. One

of these crabs may be taken up and placed in the hand without the

slightest fear. It will not attempt to escape, but will passively

submit to be rolled about, and closely examined at pleasure. Even when

again placed in its native element, minutes will sometimes elapse

before the little creature can muster up courage to show his 'peepers,'

and gradually unroll its body and limbs from their painful contraction.

 

Most writers on natural history entertain an opinion totally at

variance with my own in regard to the poor _Cancer pagurus_, of whom

we are speaking. By some he is called a fierce, cannibalistic, and

remorseless villain, totally unfit to be received into respectable

marine society. Mr. Jones relates how he put half a dozen specimens

into a vase, and on the following day found that, with the exception

of two, all had been killed and devoured by their companions; and in a

trial of strength which speedily ensued between the pair of 'demons in

crustaceous guise,' one of these was eventually immolated and devoured

by his inveterate antagonist. Sir J. Dalyell mentions several similar

instances of rapacity among these animals. Now, these anecdotes I do

not doubt, but feel inclined, from the results of my own experience, to

consider them exceptional cases.

 

When studying the subject of exuviation, I was in the habit of

keeping half a dozen or more specimens of the Edible Crab together as

companions in the same vase; but except when a 'friend and brother'

slipped off his shelly coat, and thus offered a temptation too great

for crustaceous nature to withstand, I do not remember a single

instance of cannibalism. True, there certainly were occasionally

quarrelling and fighting, and serious nocturnal broils, whereby life

and limb were endangered; but then such mishaps will frequently occur,

even in the best regulated families of the higher animals, without

these being denounced as a parcel of savages.

 

Compared to _Cancer pagurus_, the Shore-Crab appears in a very

unamiable light. When the two are kept in the same vase, they exhibit

a true exemplification of the wolf and the lamb. This, much to my

chagrin, was frequently made evident to me, but more particularly so

on one occasion, when I was, from certain circumstances, compelled to

place a specimen of each in unhappy companionship. Here is a brief

account of how they behaved to each other: The poor little lamb (_C.

pagurus_) was kept in a constant state of alarm by the attacks of her

fellow-prisoner (_C. mænas_) from the first moment that I dropped her

in the tank. If I gave her any food, and did not watch hard by until it

was consumed, the whole meal would to a certainty be snatched away. Not

content with his booty, the crabbie rascal of the shore would inflict a

severe chastisement upon his rival in my favour, and not unfrequently

attempt to wrench off an arm or a leg out of sheer wantonness. To

end such a deplorable state of matters, I very unceremoniously took

up wolf, and lopped off one of his large claws, and also one of his

hind legs. By this means I stopped his rapid movements to and fro,

and, moreover, deprived him somewhat of his power to grasp an object

forcibly. In spite of his mutilations, he still exhibited the same

antipathy to his companion, and, as far as possible, made her feel the

weight of his jealous ire. Retributive justice, however, was hanging

over his crustaceous head. The period arrived when nature compelled

him to change his coat. In due time the mysterious operation was

performed, and he stood forth a new creature, larger in size, handsomer

in appearance, but for a few days weak, sickly, and defenceless. His

back, legs, and every part of his body were of the consistency of

bakers' dough. The lamb well knew her power, and though much smaller in

size than her old enemy, she plucked up spirit and attacked him; nor

did she desist until she had seemingly made him cry peccavi, and run

for his life beneath the shelter of some friendly rock. Without wishing

to pun, I may truly say the little partane came off with _eclat_,

having my warmest approbation for her conduct, and a _claw_ in her arms

as token of her prowess. I knew that when wolf was himself again there

would be a scene. Reprisals, of course, would follow. Therefore, rather

than permit a continuance of such encounters, I separated the crabs,

and introduced them to companions more suited to the nature of each.

 

The difference exhibited in the form and development of the tail in

the ten-footed Crustacea (_Decapoda_)--as for instance, the crab, the

lobster, and the hermit-crab--is so striking that naturalists have

very appropriately divided them into three sections, distinguished by

terms expressive of these peculiarities of structure: 1st, _Brachyura_,

or short-tailed decapods, as the Crabs; 2d, _Anomoura_, or irregular

tailed, as the Hermit-crabs; 3d, _Macroura_, or long-tailed, as

Lobster, Cray-fish, &c.

 

It is to a further consideration of a few familiar examples of the

first mentioned group that I propose to devote the remainder of this

chapter.

 

Few subjects of study are more difficult and obscure than such as

belong to the lower forms of the animal kingdom. However carefully

we may observe the habits of these animals, our conclusions are too

often apt to be unsound, from our proneness to judge of their actions

as we would of the actions of men. As a consequence, an animal may

be pronounced at one moment quiet and intelligent, and at another

obstinate and dull, while perhaps, if the truth were known, it deserves

neither verdict.

 

For my own part, the more I contemplate the habits of many members

of the marine animal kingdom, the more am I astounded at the seeming

intelligence and purpose manifested in many of their actions. Prior,

apparently, must have been impressed with the same idea, for he says,

speaking of animals,--

 

"Vainly the philosopher avers

That reason guides our deeds, and instinct _theirs_.

How can we justly different causes frame

_When the effects entirely are the same?_

Instinct and reason, how can we divide?

'Tis the fool's ignorance, and the pedant's pride!"

 

This train of thought has been suggested to my mind by viewing the

singular conduct of a Shore-Crab, whom I kept domesticated for many

consecutive months. Three times during his confinement he cast his

exuvium, and had become nearly double his original size. His increased

bulk made him rather unfit for my small ocean in miniature, and gave

him, as it were, a loblolliboy appearance. Besides, he was always

full of mischief, and exhibited such pawkiness, that I often wished

he were back again to his sea-side home. Whenever I dropped in a meal

for my Blennies, he would wait until I had retired, and then rush out,

disperse the fishes, and appropriate the booty to himself. If at all

possible, he would catch one of my finny pets in his arms, and speedily

devour it. Several times he succeeded in so doing; and fearing that

the whole pack would speedily disappear, unless stringent measures for

their preservation were adopted, I determined to eject the offender.

After considerable trouble, his crabship was captured, and transferred

to a capacious glass.

 

The new lodging, though not so large as the one to which for so long

a time he had been accustomed, was nevertheless clean, neat, and

well-aired. At its base stood a fine piece of polished granite, to

serve as a chair of state, beneath which was spread a carpet of rich

green ulva. The water was clear as crystal; in fact, the accommodation,

as a whole, was unexceptionable. The part of host I played myself,

permitting no one to usurp my prerogative. But in spite of this,

the crab from the first was extremely dissatisfied and unhappy with

the change, and for hours together, day after day, he would make

frantic and ineffectual attempts to climb up the smooth walls of

his dwelling-place. Twice a day, for a week, I dropped in his food,

consisting of half a mussel, and left it under his very eyes; nay, I

often lifted him up and placed him upon the shell which contained his

once-loved meal; still, although the latter presented a most inviting

come-and-eat kind of appearance, not one particle would he take, but

constantly preferred to raise himself as high as possible up the sides

of the vase, until losing his balance, he as constantly toppled over

and fell upon its base.

 

This behaviour not a little surprised me. Did it indicate sullenness?

or was it caused by disappointment? Was he aware that escape from

his prison without aid was impossible, and consequently exhibited

the pantomime, which I have described, to express his annoyance, and

longing for the home he had lately left?

 

Thinking that perhaps there was not sufficient sea-weed in the glass,

I added a small bunch of _I. edulis_. Having thus contributed, as I

believed, to the comfort of the unhappy crab, I silently bade him

_bon soir_. On my return home, I was astonished by the servant, who

responded to my summons at the door, blurting out in a nervous manner,

'O sir! the creature's run awa!' 'The creature--what creature?' I

inquired. 'Do ye no ken, sir?--the wee crabbie in the tumler!'

 

I could scarcely credit the evidence of my sight when I saw the

'tumler' minus its crustaceous occupant. The first thought that

occurred to me was as to where the crab could be found. Under chairs,

sofa, and fender, behind book-case, cabinet, and piano, in every

crevice, hole, and corner, for at least an hour did I hunt without

success. Eventually the hiding-place of the fugitive was discovered in

the following singular manner: As I sat at my desk, I was startled by

a mysterious noise which apparently proceeded from the interior of my

'Broadwood,' which, by-the-by, I verily believe knows something about

the early editions of 'The battle of Prague,' The strings of this

venerable instrument descend into ill-disguised cupboards, so that

at the lower part there are two doors, or, in scientific language,

'valves.' On opening one of these, what should I see but the poor

crab, who, at my approach, 'did' a kind of scamper polka over the

strings. This performance I took the liberty of cutting short with

all possible speed. On dragging away the performer, I found that his

appearance was by no means improved since I saw him last. Instead of

being ornamented with gracefully-bending polypes, he was coated, body

and legs, with dust and cobwebs. I determined to try the effect of a

bath, and presently had the satisfaction of seeing him regain his usual

comely appearance. The next step was to replace him in his old abode;

and having done so, I felt anxious to know how the creature had managed

to scale his prison walls. The _modus operandi_ was speedily made

apparent; yet I feel certain that, unless one had watched as I did, the

struggles of this little fellow, the determination and perseverance he exhibited would be incredible.