§ept. 17, 1:904.] 
FOREST AND STREAM 
287 
Some Animals I Have Studied. 
VII —Fishes. 
I am not at all assured that fishes possess much intelli- 
gence ; though, being so very unlike ourselves in all par- 
ticulars, and living as they do in almost another world, 
our opportunities for constant, comprehensive observation 
are too crude to give us the right to positively assert that 
they lack wisdom, despite their very small brain in a very 
large head — but an article on "Hearing in Fishes" 
(Forest and Stream, p. 421) induces me to relate some 
of my experience with them, and to include the article in 
this series. 
Although I am not aquatic, nor even amphibious, I be- 
lieve I can claim greater familiarity with fishes in their 
own element than most men, for I have an intense admi- 
ration for them, and for water, and I know no greater 
pleasure than in the close study of them, in all possible 
conditions. While I am an indifferent fisher, I know 
no one who can at all compare with me in getting ac- 
. quainted with fishes, taming them, training them, and as- 
sociating with them intimately. I can go to a river or 
lake where the fishes are free and shy, and in three or 
four days, without the use of drugs or traps, or aught 
but food and kindness, I will have a little group of them 
(generally small ones', I confess) so confiding that they 
will eat in my hand, or follow me wheresoever I wish, that 
a fish can go. They seem to "fall in love" with me and to 
actually like to be handled. I had one pet perch, in 
Illinois, about four inches in length, that would swim 
into my hand, held barely below the water's surface, and 
allow me to carry her to the house, a distance of two 
hundred feet, and back, at a fast walk, without making 
any effort to wriggle off — although, when she showed 
signs of discomfort, I always hurried back to the pool, 
or quickly placed her in a tub of water at the house. She 
would revive in a minute and swim on to my hand again. 
Sometimes she would force herself upon my hand when I 
held it dry above the water. Whenever I stood by the 
pool she would come up immediately and look into my 
eyes as intently as might any land animal. 
The pool was small, not more than ten feet in diameter, 
and two or three deep (but with a depth of mud under- 
neath that I would not like to tell of if I knew), yet it 
contained more than a thousand fishes of several species, 
from an inch to ten inches in length, all apparently at 
peace with each other, if I except two voracious -* 
which were constantly popping up and snapping the 
smaller catfish on the surface. 
Their motions were hawk-like — they were quicker than 
any house cat. They struck the surface with a resounding 
whack! as if from above instead of below, and went under 
again with a "boolk !" out of all proportion to their size ; 
the out-and-under motions and the snapping up of their 
prey all occurring as quickly as I could snap my fingers. 
They not only were continually snapping up catfish, but 
killed, as if for sport, when they were satiated — if they 
ever were that. In their formidable jaws a 2^2-inch cat- 
fish was cut in two pieces as easily as a shingle-knife 
slices off a hot shingle, and so suddenly that no human 
eye could follow the act. I was sorry I had ever added 
them to my collection. I tried to catch them, but they 
would not bite a hook, even when baited with one of the 
"cats" they had killed. For that matter, none of my 
fishes would bite a hook, no matter how baited, nor pay 
the slightest attention to it. Some of the larger ones had 
been caught with hooks. Did they warn all the others? 
Did they describe the angler's outfit in words, or instill in 
them a fear of it by their own terrified avoidance of it? 
"But fishes are dumb !" declare the too-practical natural- 
ists. So that settles it, as to the first query. The second 
query suggests the true explanation then? Yes— but the 
trouble about that, is that not one of them ever showed 
any fear. Not the least. They simply behaved as if 
unaware of the hook's existence. They would not budge 
even when it fell on their backs, or touched their very 
noses. Yet remove the bait and throw it in, or hold it 
in the hand, and it is immediately seized. What are 
we to say about that? I, for one, give it up. I have a 
theory, however, but it is too unscientific to offer. These 
fishes, crowded as they were, were not very fastidious in. 
their appetite ; they would eat anything a chicken would.. 
They were especially fond of hornets and hornet grubs,, 
or larva. I found a small hornets' nest (I say small, be- 
cause along the Wabash, high up in the shellbark. 
hickories, there were numerous nests as large as flour- 
barrels) one day, and kicked it, having mistaken it for 
a rotten hickory stump. It was an unfortunate accident 
all around, but the inhabitants would accept no apology; 
so I retreated, rather hurriedly — after about ten seconds' 
delay — for I realized I was needed at home. But I came 
again, with stratagem, captured the nest, took it to my 
fish pool, tore it to pieces and threw it in. The fishes,, 
big and little, fairly piled on to each other to get at the 
contents. v 
Whenever I appeared on the bank with a biscuit (per- 
haps not a fish in sight at first), in a few seconds the 
whole surface of the water would be covered with a 
struggling, shining multitude of fishes, sometimes entirely 
hiding every bit of water, and even heaping together two- 
or three deep at the edge next to me. "Stop right there,, 
now, romancer !" exclaims some indignant scientist. "Yon. 
have betrayed yourself! Such a small pool could not 
keep alive a single day a fraction of the amount of fishes; 
you imply your pool contained !" Well, I dislike to seem, 
to disagree with science, but I am stating only facts- 
known to all of my neighbors there. There must have- 
been some mysterious aerating quality about the porous: 
banks of the pool, or in the mud beneath; but however 
*I leave out the name of the variety, because I never knew it.. 
They were scaleless, smooth, slimy; form much like "mud-cat," 
but without spurs. Each eight inches long. 
that may have been, the water always remained at nearly 
the same level, and never acquired any unwholesome odor, 
although it had no outlet above ground. I "started" 
stocking the pool early in spring, and never lost a fish, 
except from violence, all summer and fall. I left there 
early the following winter. I am sorry I cannot better ex- 
plain why the fishes lived. But they did, and so happily 
that I continued adding to their number as occasion 
offered. It gave me a rare opportunity for studying fish 
manners and habits. In very hot weather they suffered a 
little, as there was no shade, even the shores being almost 
level with the water, although the pool was cut in the 
south bank of a ravine (it was at the top of the bank or 
ridge, not at its base). At daylight, before the sun ap- 
peared, I often found them arranged all around the edges 
of the banks their bodies half out of the water, cats, 
perch, silversides indiscriminately mixed, enjoying the 
dewy air. Sometimes the larger cats would slowly push 
a few of the perch entirely out of the water. The latter 
would make no resistance, but lie on one side contentedly 
until nature warned them they had been out of water long 
enough to be dangerous to health, when,, "spat !" they 
would flap back. I was surprised to find that perch are 
less afraid of leaving the water than cats, although I have 
known the latter to live more than a day in a dry dish- 
pan in the shade. I learned a lot of surprising things. I 
had always doubted the ability of fish to hear. I received 
proof that mine could — or that sound vibrations affected 
them, either in the water or out of it, and I don't care 
whether it is called hearing or not. It matters not to me 
whether sound enters their "chamber of Corti" through 
the top of the head, or through the tail ; it gets there, all 
right, which amounts to the same. Not only did they 
hear, but they seemed to distinguish between a few sounds. 
One sound frightened them at any and all times and 
under all circumstances, causing a regular piscatorial 
panic— and an insignificant -sound at that ! It was simply 
the hawking sound a man makes when clearing his throat 
after breathing dust or when aggravated with a cold. Why 
they feared this sound or were pained by it I know not. 
But every fish of every size would vanish at the sound, 
whether loud or moderate, even if feeding at the time. In 
a few minutes they would come up looking about won- 
dering] y, and under they went again quick as a flash 
every time the sound was repeated. I made a number of 
experiments to determine' what they .could hear and how 
different sounds . affected them ; but, wonderful to tell, 
this seemed the only sound, that could startle them 
more than once the same day. They quickly became used 
to all other sounds, seeming to prove they remembered. 
Indeed, I have established in my own mind that fishes 
hear, remember, understand a few things, and possess the 
passions of love, hate, fear, joy and curiosity— all very 
limitedly compared with mammals. The perch shows all 
this much more plainly than any other fish I have had 
the privilege of studying. I have also found that some 
varieties see in air perhaps as well as in water, instead 
of being unable to see at all in air, as many people sup- 
pose. Nor can I convince myself that they are so near- 
sighted in water as scientists believe, no matter how un- 
favorable to long sight the structure of the eye may appear 
to the savants. If any naturalist reader would care to 
learn all the particulars or evidence tending to prove the 
long sight of fishes, and will ask me through this paper, 
I will endeavor to carefully write my experiments (and 
accidents), which have caused my belief, and which I 
believe will convince any person that fishes see some 
■distance. 
I found that a crayfish or crawfish in shallow water 
could quickly nip off the tail of a catfish fifty times bigger 
than himself! This astounded me, for the crayfish is very 
delicate, and sometimes loses one or more of his powerful 
"pinchers" at a blow so slight as to cause a small fish no 
discomfort whatever. Besides, it is a very cowardly 
"insect." Its nippers are, in themselves, one of the 
greatest wonders in animal creation — possessing pro- 
digious power, yet connected with the body by a ridicu- 
lously small, hair-like member. It appears that the nip- 
per is so constructed, like a mighty engine, as to need only 
nourishment and moving impulse from the body, -or 
boiler, to make it appear the main thing. My eatfishes 
invariably were sundered about one-third their length 
from the tip of the tail — at a very fleshy part. Sometimes 
the fish would struggle, violently to get back into deeper 
water, where the enemy would have been just nothing 
to him, but he seldom could get away in time; though, 
occasionally, he was fortunate enough to disarm (liter- 
ally) or smash his despicable foe, whether by skill or ac- 
cident I never could determine. My opinion is, that in 
such a situation, he is too excited and terrified to exercise 
any intelligence, if he possesses it — like a man in a night- 
mare- — and I am sure, from my own observations, that 
a man's helpless horror under the grip of the incubus is 
iio evidence of a lack of courage or wisdom, nor even of 
:a want of goodness. 
I found, too, that the mink is a great destroyer of fish, 
choosing the larger and finer ones with unerring cunning, 
and, reversing the custom of the crayfish, cutting off the 
head end, for the blood, rather than the flesh, is what is 
•sought by the mink ; and as fishes possess very little flow- 
ing blood, a great many are required to satisfy the mink. 
After his repeated plunges into the pool have so alarmed 
the prey that they keep down, however, he will eat some 
of the heads he has strewn about the shores, if he is still 
hungry. I say "shores" instead of "shore," because he 
carries a fish straight across, instead of returning to the 
bank from which he entered the pool — if the pool is 
small. 
At first the fishes neither fear nor resist him, nor 
make any effort to get out of his way — that is, in a 
crowded pool like mine. But, seemingly attracted by the 
queer appearance of his bushy, trailing tail, or intoxicated 
with the odor of it, pursue him, even nibbling at it, thus 
giving the smiling scoundrel an easy job to take his 
pick. He crosses and reCrosses the pool, generally in a 
straight line, as if he had no other object than to get 
across, and each time he picks up a fine fish in, or slightly 
past, the middle of the water. I had opportunities to ob- 
serve all this as leisurely as my wrath would allow, for 
the minks were numerous there, and bold, until I shot at 
one with a revolver, so close that the fire seemed to 
swallow his whole body! (I wish all exchanges of 
Forest and Stream would, if the publishers consent, copy 
this note about the mink, in the interest of fish- preserva- 
tion, for I do not believe our fishing brethren are fully 
aware of the awful destructiveness of this wily rodent. 
Of course, there are other destroyers, notably the raccoon, 
but the latter eats the flesh and the bone, and is content 
with very small fishes often left slowly perishing in pools 
that are drying up; besides, he seems to prefer crayfish, 
which are, I suppose, everywhere regarded as a nuisance, 
and are in no danger of extermination so as to "throw 
nature out of balance.") 
I intimated that some of my fishes, having been taken 
with the hook, might have told others; yet I have known 
the sporting fishermen to catch a fish in a clear stream, 
where it could be easily observed, throw it back, hook it 
again, and even toss it back and retake it the third time ! 
Does this indicate that all fishes lack sense, or simply that 
some of them are "feeble-minded," or that there are pro- 
fessional "dare-devils" among them, as among men? 
L.R. Morphew. 
[to be continued.] 
About Katydids. 
Not in many years have I heard the katydids so clamor- 
ous as this year. I suppose it simply means that there are 
more katydids. The note of this insect is certainly not 
musical, and yet it has a charm of its own. Of a fall 
night what more reposeful than those drowsy iterations of 
"Katydid — Katy didn't?" Insomnia appears to be a grow- 
ing trouble in these days of nervous haste and worry. 
Well, if I were a doctor and a man came to me and said 
he couldn't sleep, I would recommend him — if the season 
were the fall— to get close to woods full of katydids. 
There I'll guarantee he'd sleep. At first he might think 
the insects a nuisance, and calculated only to aggravate 
his malady, but gradually they would work their spell 
upon ihim, and even while declaiming against them, or 
meditating a flight back to town, he would fall into the 
arms of Morpheus. We can imagine how that man would 
speak of the katydids in the morning. 
Perhaps, though, he would not be justified in giving 
the whole credit to them for his cure. There is another 
insect — the .snowy tree cricket, to wit — which is usually 
found singing, or stridulating, if you please, alongside of 
Katy. The notes of the two are not dissimilar, but those 
of the cricket are softer and mellower and heard at a dis- 
tance are not unlike the jingling of sleigh bells. Some 
poet, indeed, has called them "musical moonlight." While, 
then, Katy dominates the night, the snowy tree cricket 
serves admirably the part , of an under-chorus, and to the 
two combined- should be given the credit for that blessed 
balm which superinduces sleep. 
But here is a question for some naturalist : Why do 
those insects sing rather in the night than in the day? 
It may be answered, because they prefer to. But that will 
not, do. There is a reason for everything, and naturalists 
abo,ve all men .should be engaged in finding it out. The 
locust sings during the day and the katydid during the 
night. Why? J. M. 
N^jv sYoi^k, -September. 
The Ignis Fatuus. 
Tn the inature of things I should suppose that many 
r of the readers of Forest and Stream have, in the 
course of their woodland experiences, "met up" with 
the ignis fatuus, jack-o'-lantern, will-o'-the-wisp, or 
whatever it may be called; yet I do not recall ever to 
have seen any mention of this phenomenon in your 
cqlumns. Indeed, the literature of the ignis fatuus is 
rather limited in quantity. I have examined several cyclo- 
pedias and such other sources of information as were 
at hand, ibut I have found very little on the subject. 
Many years ago, when I was a boy, coming home 
^ne night from meeting at Hopewell church in com- 
pany with several others,, we saw away across a low, 
flat intervale a light moving along. It was in all proba- 
bility a lantern in the hand of some one returning like 
ourselves from church; but somebody re'marked that it 
might be a jack-o'-lantern. This led to some conversa- 
tion among the company as to the nature of this meteor, 
much of it very profound of course, as might be ex- 
pected of a lot of untaught rustics on a subject upon 
which more learned men have not even yet been able to 
agree. Many anecdotes of the delusive nature of the 
aforesaid jack, how he had led persons who had pre- 
sumed to follow him into swamps and wildernesses to 
their complete undoing, were related. This was my first 
knowledge of the ignis fatuus. 
Nor have I been able to add much definitely to this 
small fragment of doubtful information. One of the 
cyclopedias which I consulted describes the will-o'-the- 
wisp as a luminous meteor, appearing during summer 
and autumn nights on marshy land, near stagnant water, 
in graveyards, and other places where decomposition 
is going on. It is an unsteady bluish light, usually seen 
a few inches above the surface of the ground, some- 
times stationary, but commonly moving with great 
rapidity. It appears brightest at a distance, and recedes 
from the observer as he tries to approach it; thus 
travelers have frequently lost their lives through being 
deluded by it into dangerous bogs. This author does 
not attempt to explain the cause of the ignis fatuus; but 
