BENEATH TROPIC SEAS 



mind a strange, half -living airplane. A gurnard 

 volplanes swiftly downward from the surface, 

 wings tightly folded, and when close to the bottom 

 turns slightly upward, partly spreads its pectorals 

 and, stretching out the long, thin ventral fins, 

 alights gently, and at once trots off, scampering 

 here and there, now and then actually holding up 

 one leg-fin, as the fish pivots slightly and looks 

 about. When it walks forward rapidly the body 

 is kept almost horizontal, with the tail clear, but 

 when it slows down and begins taxiing across the 

 floor of the aquarium, the caudal fin drops and the 

 lower rays drag, like the tail stick of an airplane. 



The ventral, leglike fins work alternately, one 

 after the other, and each step is effective, some- 

 times directly ahead, or again to one side or back- 

 ward. These fins are remarkably long, the fish 

 standing very high; when in action they are con- 

 stricted, appearing slender and perfectly straight, 

 only the very tips of the rays bending back and 

 functioning as feet. Every now and then the 

 anterior free portions of the pectorals stretch out 

 and down, fumbling about as though searching for 

 something. 



In front of the first dorsal fin are two free rays, 

 long, slender, and knobby at the tips, and for 

 their entire length quite separate from the rest. 

 Except at their very base these two anterior rays 

 have lost all fore-and-aft alignment, and by a most 

 ingenious asymmetrical arrangement appear to lie 

 completely side by side. They fit in a groove 



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