320 I N A G U A 



fledged, calcium-enclosed barnacle. When, by instinct or simple 

 chance, it discovered a proper locality it turned on its back, 

 firmly cemented itself in place, surrounded itself with a house 

 and began kicking— an activity that it continued to the final 

 chapter. And its legs— which in any other crustacean would 

 have become claws, paddles for swimming, or hooks for grasp- 

 ing—spread out, fringe apart and wound up looking like so many 

 feathers. 



I worked my way out to the boulder where there was a con- 

 siderable colony of barnacles and watched them snaring the 

 manna brought on the tide. They looked like so many active 

 volcanoes, with puffs of light brown smoke beginning to issue 

 from the tips of the cones only to be suddenly snatched in 

 again, as though the eruption had gone inexphcably in reverse. 

 Peering closer I could see that the momentary puffs of smoke 

 were really the interlacings of the feet which were extruded 

 and then quickly withdrawn fully expanded and curved in- 

 ward to prevent the escape of any life that they had snared. 

 The excess water escaped between the interstices of the 

 fibers. 



With my fingers I touched one of the delicate cirri, as the 

 feathers are properly termed. With a snap it was retracted and 

 the entrance barred with two plates of solid ivory. These plates 

 fit so closely that they are airtight and watertight, sealing the 

 barnacle in its shell until it once again desires to open. Thus 

 barnacles can survive low tides when they are helplessly re- 

 moved from their native element. Crashing surf, preying ene- 

 mies are all the same to the barnacle. I have often thought that 

 barnacles have their advantages. How nice it would be if we 

 could escape undesirable situations, tax collectors and such, 

 by merely closing our doors and going to sleep! 



By this time the chill of moving water began to penetrate 

 every fiber of my being. Some of the current seemed to be 



