58 Dwellers of the Sea and Shore 



large share of my attention. If you know the starfish, 

 you will readily guess why it elected to make this place 

 its home. It was because of the ever-constant supply of 

 food covering the crumbling ribs. But as this history 

 is being written primarily for the reader who knows 

 little or nothing of our sea folk, I shall amplify the pre- 

 ceding statement; there is more of interest in it than 

 the bare assertion implies. And as I proceed toward 

 this end, we may find it of further interest occasionally 

 to linger by the way. 



Once again I see myself installed in the spot beloved 

 of Asterias. The late September sun blazes through 

 a listless air that as yet gives no hint of the frigid days 

 which are soon to follow. But the heat, so oppressive 

 on shore, is here tempered, not by zephyrs from the 

 Sound, for there is not the slightest ripple in the harbor, 

 but by the colder expanse of surrounding water. The 

 tide is rising and has nearly reached its highest 

 level. 



Starfishes awaiting the return of the tide can be seen 

 everywhere: some are crammed in crevices, others 

 have wedged themselves in companies of several into 

 nooks that would apparently limit the free move- 

 ment of a single individual, and not a few are sus- 

 pended motionless by the tip of a single ray from the 

 under side of the dripping bulwark. These stragglers, 

 slowly moving at best, while having been intent on their 

 various occupations near the high-water mark, were left 

 behind by the falling tide; and now, incapable of ef- 

 ficient locomotion out of their natural element, they 

 remain inactive until its return. In the water below, 

 seemingly scattered more numerously than the stars in 



