86 , Dwellers of the Sea and Shore 



catch the flutter of a flatfish as It makes its low leap 

 across the rippled sand. The starfish, the moon snail, 

 and the comb jelly, too, hold forth in the watery haunts ; 

 and there comes and goes a host of others. 



Nearer is a pebbled area barren of vegetation. Here 

 among the mussel clumps an occasional oyster can be 

 seen with gaping valves competing with its neighbors 

 for the microscopic harvest of the water. Almost with- 

 in reach of my hand a low, sinuous mound slowly ex- 

 tends its length. The mole of the land has its rep- 

 resentative in the sea. This tortuous trail is formed by 

 the labor of the young horseshoe crab. Resting on the 

 bottom, which it simulates with astonishing realism, ij 

 a squid. Unintimidated by my immobile presence, it 

 watches with its great lugubrious eyes the approach of 

 a shoal of killifishes. The minnows move in rhythmic 

 progression, casting a stippled shadow over the 

 gravelly floor, unav/are of the danger that lurks beneath 

 them. For an instant they hesitate — too late ! The 

 weird apparition suddenly darts into their midst, 

 dispersing them in all directions; but not before 

 it has seized several stragglers In Its terrible arms. 

 With a vicious snap of its beak, it speedily exterminates 

 them. Not content with one victim, which would be 

 fully ample for its meal, the monster ruthlessly de- 

 stroys what cannot possibly serve its needs. 



What manner of instinct Is this that gives such scant 

 consideration to the conservation of life, an instinct the 

 primary impulse of which is an extravagant lust for 

 killing? For a moment, forgetting the dictum of 

 nature which properly holds that many must die so one 

 may live, forgetting that awful equilibrium In which 



