40 THE LOG OF THE SUN 



inn, which after a few seconds would mean death 

 to us, excite the same interest. They see, of 

 course, having eyes, but do they feel, hear, and 

 smell 1 



Probably the sense of taste is least developed. 

 When a trout leaps at and catches a fly he does 

 not stop to taste, otherwise the pheasant feather 

 concealing the cruel hook would be of little use. 

 When an animal catches its food in the water and 

 swallows it whole, taste plays but a small part. 

 Thus the tongue of a pelican is a tiny flap all but 

 lost to view in its great bill. 



Water is an excellent medium for carrying mi- 

 nute particles of matter and so the sense of smell 

 is well developed. A bit of meat dropped into the 

 sea will draw the fish from far and wide, and a 

 slice of liver will sometimes bring a score 

 of sharks and throw; them into the greatest 

 excitement. 



Fishes are probably very near-sighted, but that 

 they can distinguish details is apparent in the 

 choice which a trout exhibits in taking certain 

 coloured artificial flies. W 7 e may suppose from 

 what we know of physics that when we lean over 

 and look down into a pool, the fishy eyes which 

 peer up at us discern only a dark, irregular mass. 

 I have seen a pickerel dodge as quickly at a sudden 

 cloud-shadow as at the motion of a man wielding 

 a fish pole. 



We can be less certain about the hearing of 



