In late autumn or in winter the salmon sp.a.w.n in the rivers. The female makes a shallow trough in the gravel by moving her tail from side to side, and therein lays many eggs. The male, who is in attendance, fertilises these with the milt, and then the female covers them deeply with gravel. The process is repeated over and over again for a week or more till all the eggs are shed. For three to four months the eggs develop, and eventually there emerge the larvae or _alevins_, which lurk among the pebbles. They cannot swim much, for they are enc.u.mbered by a big legacy of yolk. In a few weeks, perhaps eight, the protruding bag of yolk has disappeared and the _fry_, about an inch long, begin to move about more actively and to fend for themselves. By the end of the year they have grown to be rather trout-like _parr_, about four inches long.
In two years these are double that length. Usually in the second year, but it may be earlier or later, the parr become silvery _smolts_, which go out to sea, usually about the month of May. They feed on young herring and the like and grow large and strong. When they are about three and a half years old they come up the rivers as _grilse_ and may sp.a.w.n. Or they may pa.s.s through the whole grilse stage in the sea and come up the rivers with all the characters of the full-grown fish. In many cases the salmon sp.a.w.n only once, and some (they are called _kelts_ after sp.a.w.ning) are so much exhausted by starting a new generation that they die or fall a victim to otters and other enemies. In the case of the salmon of the North Pacific (in the genus _Oncorhynchus_, not _Salmo_) all the individuals die after sp.a.w.ning, none being able to return to the sea. It must be remembered that full-grown salmon do not as a rule feed in fresh water, though they may be unable to resist snapping at the angler"s strange creations. A very interesting fact is that the salmon keeps as it were a diary of its movements, which vary a good deal in different rivers. This diary is written in the scales, and a careful reading of the concentric lines on the scales shows the age of the fish, and when it went out to sea, and whether it has sp.a.w.ned or not, and more besides.
Interpretation of the Salmon"s Story
When an animal frequents two different haunts, in one of which it breeds, it is very often safe to say that the breeding-place represents the original home. The flounder is quite comfortable far up the rivers, but it has to go to the sh.o.r.e-waters to sp.a.w.n, and there is no doubt that the flounder is a marine fish which has recently learned to colonise the fresh waters. Its relatives, like plaice and sole, are strictly marine. But it is impossible to make a dogma of the rule that the breeding-place corresponds to the original home. Thus some kinds of ba.s.s, which belong to the marine family of sea-perches, live in the sea or in estuaries, while two have become permanent residents in fresh water. Or, again, the members of the herring family are very distinctively marine, but the shad, which belong to this family, sp.a.w.n in rivers and may spend their lives there.
So there are two different ways of interpreting the life-history of the salmon. Some authorities regard the salmon as a marine fish which is establishing itself in fresh water. But others read the story the other way and regard the salmon as a member of a freshwater race, that has taken to the sea for feeding purposes. In regard to trout, we know that the ranks of those in rivers and lakes are continually being reinforced by migrants from the sea, and that some trout go down to the sea while others remain in the freshwater. We know also in regard to a related fish, the char, that while the great majority of kinds are now permanent residents in cold and deep, isolated northern lakes, there are Arctic forms which live in the sea but enter the rivers to sp.a.w.n. These facts favour the view that the salmon was originally a marine fish. But there are arguments on both sides, and, for our present purpose, the important fact is that the salmon is conquering _two_ haunts. Its evolution is going on.
The Romance of the Eel
Early in summer, at dates varying with the distance of the rivers from the open Atlantic, crowds of young eels or elvers come up-stream.
Sometimes the procession or eel-fare includes thousands of individuals, each about the length of our first finger, and as thick as a stout knitting needle. They obey an inborn impulse to swim against the stream, seeking automatically to have both sides of their body equally stimulated by the current. So they go straight ahead. The obligation works only during the day, for when the sun goes down behind the hills the elvers snuggle under stones or beneath the bank and rest till dawn.
In the course of time they reach the quiet upper reaches of the river or go up rivulets and drainpipes to the isolated ponds. Their impulse to go on must be very imperious, for they may wriggle up the wet moss by the side of a waterfall or even make a short excursion in a damp meadow.
In the quiet-flowing stretches of the river or in the ponds they feed and grow for years and years. They account for a good many young fishes.
Eventually, after five or six years in the case of the males, six to eight years in the case of the females, the well-grown fishes, perhaps a foot and a half to two feet long, are seized by a novel restlessness.
They are beginning to be mature. They put on a silvery jacket and become large of eye, and they return to the sea. In getting away from the pond it may be necessary to wriggle through the damp meadow-gra.s.s before reaching the river. They travel by night and rather excitedly. The Arctic Ocean is too cold for them and the North Sea too shallow. They must go far out to sea, to where the old margin of the once larger continent of Europe slopes down to the great abysses, from the Hebrides southwards. Eels seem to sp.a.w.n in the deep dark water; but the just liberated eggs have not yet been found. The young fry rises to near the surface and becomes a knife-blade-like larva, transparent all but its eye. It lives for many months in this state, growing to be about three inches long, rising and sinking in the water, and swimming gently.
These open-sea young eels are known as Leptocephali, a name given to them before their real nature was proved. They gradually become shorter, and the shape changes from knife-blade-like to cylindrical. During this change they fast, and the weight of their delicate body decreases. They turn into gla.s.s-eels, about 2-1/2 inches long, like a knitting-needle in girth. They begin to move towards the distant sh.o.r.es and rivers, and they may be a year and a half old before they reach their destination and go up-stream as elvers. Those that ascend the rivers of the Eastern Baltic must have journeyed three thousand miles. It is certain that no eel ever matures or sp.a.w.ns in fresh water. It is practically certain that all the young eels ascending the rivers of North Europe have come in from the Atlantic, some of them perhaps from the Azores or further out still. It is interesting to inquire how the young eels circ.u.mvent the Falls of the Rhine and get into Lake Constance, or how their kindred on the other side of the Atlantic overcome the obstacle of Niagara; but it is more important to lay emphasis on the variety of habitats which this fish is trying--the deep waters, the open sea, the sh.o.r.e, the river, the pond, and even, it may be, a little taste of solid earth. It seems highly probable that the common eel is a deep-water marine fish which has learned to colonise the freshwaters. It has been adventurous and it has succeeded. The only shadow on the story of achievement is that there seems to be no return from the sp.a.w.ning. There is little doubt that death is the nemesis of their reproduction. In any case, no adult eel ever comes back from the deep sea. We are minded of Goethe"s hard saying: "Death is Nature"s expert advice to get plenty of life."
-- 4
Forming New Habits
There is a well-known mudfish of Australia, Neoceratodus by name, which has turned its swim-bladder into a lung and comes to the surface to spout. It expels vitiated air with considerable force and takes fresh gulps. At the same time, like an ordinary fish, it has gills which allow the usual interchange of gases between the blood and the water. Now this Australian mudfish or double-breather (Dipnoan), which may be a long way over a yard in length, is a direct and little-changed descendant of an ancient extinct fish, Ceratodus, which lived in Mesozoic times, as far back as the Jura.s.sic, which probably means over five millions of years ago. The Queensland mudfish is an antiquity, and there has not been much change in its lineage for millions of years. We might take it as an ill.u.s.tration of the inertia of evolution. And yet, though its structure has changed but little, the fish probably ill.u.s.trates evolution in process, for it is a fish that is learning to breathe dry air. It cannot leave the water; but it can live comfortably in pools which are foul with decomposing animal and vegetable matter. In partially dried-up and foul waterholes, full of dead fishes of various kinds, Neoceratodus has been found vigorous and lively. Unless we take the view, which is _possible_, that the swim-bladder of fishes was originally a lung, the mud-fishes are learning to breathe dry air. They ill.u.s.trate evolution agoing.
[Ill.u.s.tration: DIAGRAM OF THE LIFE HISTORY OF THE COMMON EEL (_Anguilla Vulgalis_)
1. The transparent open-sea knife-blade-like larva called a Leptocephalus.
2 and 3. The gradual change of shape from knife-blade-like to cylindrical. The body becomes shorter and loses weight.
4. The young elver, at least a year old, which makes its way from the open sea to the estuaries and rivers. It is 2/3 inches long and almost cylindrical.
5. The fully-formed eel.]
[Ill.u.s.tration: _Photo: Gambier Bolton._
Ca.s.sOWARY
Its bare head is capped with a helmet. Unlike the plumage of most birds its feathers are loose and hair-like, whilst its wings are merely represented by a few black quills. It is flightless and entirely dependent on its short powerful legs to carry it out of danger.]
[Ill.u.s.tration: _Photo: Gambier Bolton._
THE KIWI, ANOTHER FLIGHTLESS BIRD, OF REMARKABLE APPEARANCE, HABITS, AND STRUCTURE]
The herring-gull is by nature a fish-eater; but of recent years, in some parts of Britain, it has been becoming in the summer months more and more of a vegetarian, scooping out the turnips, devouring potatoes, settling on the sheaves in the harvest field and gorging itself with grain. Similar experiments, usually less striking, are known in many birds; but the most signal ill.u.s.tration is that of the kea or Nestor parrot of New Zealand, which has taken to lighting on the loins of the sheep, tearing away the fleece, cutting at the skin, and gouging out fat. Now the parrot belongs to a vegetarian or frugivorous stock, and this change of diet in the relatively short time since sheep-ranches were established in New Zealand is very striking. Here, since we know the dates, we may speak of evolution going on under our eyes. It must be remembered that variations in habit may give an animal a new opportunity to test variations in structure which arise mysteriously from within, as expressions of germinal changefulness rather than as imprints from without. For of the transmissibility of the latter there is little secure evidence.
Experiments in Locomotion
It is very interesting to think of the numerous types of locomotion which animals have discovered--pulling and punting, sculling and rowing, and of the changes that are rung on these four main methods. How striking is the case of the frilled lizard (Chlamydosaurus) of Australia, which at the present time is, as it were, experimenting in bipedal progression--always a rather eventful thing to do. It gets up on its hind-legs and runs totteringly for a few feet, just like a baby learning to walk.
How beautiful is the adventure which has led our dipper or water-ouzel--a bird allied to the wrens--to try walking and flying under water! How admirable is the volplaning of numerous parachutists--"flying fish," "flying frog," "flying dragon," "flying phalanger," "flying squirrel," and more besides, which take great leaps through the air. For are these not the splendid failures that might have succeeded in starting new modes of flight?
Most daring of all, perhaps, are the aerial journeys undertaken by many small spiders. On a breezy morning, especially in the autumn, they mount on gate-posts and palings and herbage, and, standing with their head to the wind, pay out three or four long threads of silk. When the wind tugs at these threads, the spinners let go, and are borne, usually back downwards, on the wings of the wind from one parish to another. It is said that if the wind falls they can unfurl more sail, or furl if it rises. In any case, these wingless creatures make aerial journeys. When tens of thousands of the used threads sink to earth, there is a "shower of gossamer." On his _Beagle_ voyage Darwin observed that vast numbers of small gossamer spiders were borne on to the ship when it was sixty miles distant from the land.
[Ill.u.s.tration: THE AUSTRALIAN FRILLED LIZARD, WHICH IS AT PRESENT TRYING TO BECOME A BIPED
When it gets up on its hind-legs and runs for a short distance it folds its big collar round its neck.]
[Ill.u.s.tration: A CARPET OF GOSSAMER
The silken threads used by thousands of gossamer spiders in their migrations are here seen entangled in the gra.s.s, forming what is called a shower of gossamer. At the edge of the gra.s.s the gossamer forms a curtain, floating out and looking extraordinarily like waves breaking on a seash.o.r.e.]
[Ill.u.s.tration: THE WATER-SPIDER
The spider is seen just leaving its diving-bell to ascend to the surface to capture air.
The spider jerks its body and legs out at the surface and then dives--
--carrying with it what looks like a silvery air-bubble--air entangled in the hair.
The spider reaches its air-dome. Note how the touch of its legs indents the inflated balloon.
Running down the side of the nest, the spider
--brushes off the air at the entrance, and the bubble ascends into the silken balloon.
_Photos: J. J. Ward, F.E.S._]
New Devices
It is impossible, we must admit, to fix dates, except in a few cases, relatively recent; but there is a smack of modernity in some striking devices which we can observe in operation to-day. Thus no one will dispute the statement that spiders are thoroughly terrestrial animals breathing dry air, but we have the fact of the water-spider conquering the under-water world. There are a few spiders about the seash.o.r.e, and a few that can survive douching with freshwater, but the particular case of the true water-spider, _Argyroneta natans_, stands by itself because the creature, as regards the female at least, has _conquered_ the sub-aquatic environment. A flattish web is woven, somehow, underneath the water, and pegged down by threads of silk. Along a special vertical line the mother spider ascends to the surface and descends again, having entangled air in the hairs of her body. She brushes off this air underneath her web, which is thereby buoyed up into a sort of dome. She does this over and over again, never getting wet all the time, until the domed web has become like a diving-bell, full of dry air. In this eloquent antic.i.p.ation of man"s rational device, this creature--far from being endowed with reason--lays her eggs and looks after her young. The general significance of the facts is that when compet.i.tion is keen, a new area of exploitation is a promised land. Thus spiders have spread over all the earth except the polar areas. But here is a spider with some spirit of adventure, which has endeavoured, instead of trekking, to find a new corner near at home. It has tackled a problem surely difficult for a terrestrial animal, the problem of living in great part under water, and it has solved it in a manner at once effective and beautiful.
In Conclusion
We have given but a few representative ill.u.s.trations of a great theme.
When we consider the changefulness of living creatures, the transformations of cultivated plants and domesticated animals, the gradual alterations in the fauna of a country, the search after new haunts, the forming of new habits, and the discovery of many inventions, are we not convinced that Evolution is going on? And why should it stop?
VII