The different jellyfishes often have attendants peculiar to themselves; but in most cases the little fishes are relatives of the common mackerel, and, curiously, they resemble almost exactly the tints and colors of their protectors, so that it is often difficult to detect them, and in many instances, in semitropical waters, I have failed to distinguish them when only a few inches away. Knowing the power of the stings of these jellies, we may well wonder how the fishes escape; but they are probably aware of their danger, and swim well up under the umbrella of their protector.
The jellyfishes are not all the delicate forms we are most familiar with; they sometimes attain gigantic proportions. A few years ago a fishing schooner sighted from her topmast, at night, something which appeared to be a vast submarine moon, moving slowly along, followed by a luminous train. A boat was sent out to investigate, and the "moon" was found to be a gigantic jellyfish, known to science as the Cyanea. It was fully six feet across, and no one knew how long; yet large as it was, it grew from a delicate little hydroid hardly visible to the naked eye. One of these giants was observed near Boston, with a disk nearly seven feet across, and tentacles over one hundred feet in length. They, too, are umbrellas, and afford protection to a number of fishes and often a wandering sea anemone, as well as several crabs, the entire colony floating about, and forming one of the most remarkable objects to be seen in the great ocean.
When near rocky points in our northern waters these huge jellies are often objects of curiosity to birds and seals. The latter, probably, have noticed the school of little fishes that have dashed at the jelly and disappeared in its folds, and, sinking quietly, the big-eyed seal rises directly beneath the great disk, and stands fairly under the living umbrella itself, presenting a comical appearance, staring about in wonder, until contact, perhaps, with the tentacles that come sweeping by suggests that living umbrellas are not intended for the use of seals.
In tropical waters fishes that live at the surface, as the gars and others, often avail themselves of the shade afforded by floating objects of various kinds. I have seen little fishes collected under a sleeping turtle, which was lying partly submerged, and thousands of fishes of all kinds will congregate under the hull of a vessel lying at a wharf. All large, slow-moving fishes have their corps of attendants. The sharks have the clinging remora and active pilot fishes. The great sheepshead is often accompanied by small fishes; and whales, rays, and many others are protectors to a horde of creatures of whose existence they are probably ignorant.
In some of these instances the protector, the living umbrella, may be compared to a ship, while the little followers are the tenders. This is shown in the beautiful animal known as the physalia. Found more commonly in southern waters, it is occasionally washed ashore on Cape Cod, stranded like a fairy ship, as it is. It floats upon the surface, the upper portion resembling a bubble of satin, sometimes as large as a man's closed fist. From the upper portion rises a delicate, fluted, pink-tinted sail, which can be elevated or lowered at will, and when thrown to the wind the living ships go scudding before the breeze, often to be stranded upon the coral keys. After a storm on the Florida reef, I have seen a row of them several inches high, piled up, and extending for some distance. The keel of the fairy ship is represented by a mass of tentacles, colored a brilliant purple, attractive to various fishes, and lowered by this gay craft as lures. A sardine sees the highly colored line, snaps at it, and turns over as if dead; the lassos of this terrible armament have killed it as would an electric shock. I once accidentally swam over one, and narrowly escaped with my life; and for months after I could have passed for a tattooed man, so indelibly were the tentacles stamped into the flesh.
Deadly as are these stings, the physalia gives protection to a number of little fishes allied to the mackerel family, which can be found hiding up under its lobes, in some way avoiding the death-dealing darts. As in other cases cited, the fishes are almost exact in their resemblance to the tentacles, a deep purple or blue, and ordinarily cannot be distinguished from them; but when the physalia is lifted from the water by the sail, which can be safely done, they are seen moving wildly about, generally seeking protection beneath the boat, and returning to their protector as soon as it is put back into the water. In all nature we find these strange associations, seemingly dangerous to the animals, yet in some way resulting in benefit to both.
FEATHERED GIANTS.
IN studying the history of living animals, we find that in many cases we can trace their ancestry, directly or indirectly, to a line of giants. There seems to have been a period in the early history of our world when nearly all animals attained to a greater size than at present. There were antelopes as bulky as the largest elephants; there was an elk upon whose horns forty or more boys and girls could have been carried; the elephants were much larger than they are now; the little lizard, iguana, of South America, was represented by an enormous creature, the iguanodon, twenty feet or more in length, and powerful enough to tear down large trees; the lions, tigers, bears, kangaroos—in fact, nearly all the animals, were giants.
We should hardly expect to find this applying to the birds; the great ostrich and others seem almost giants themselves. Yet during the days of the earliest man there existed birds which might well be termed giants.
The home of some of these feathered wonders was in New Zealand, a land which has produced many strange and curious creatures, living and extinct. The first information concerning the birds was obtained from the natives, who told the Englishmen who ventured among them that the ancient Maoris were powerful people, and the earliest owners of the New Zealand country. Their traditions described them as great hunters, famous for their deeds of prowess and personal bravery; and among the dangerous animals which they pursued and destroyed for the sake of the wonderful feathers was a gigantic bird that was twice as high as the tallest chief, and that was larger, stouter, and stronger than any other animal they had to cope with. So powerful, indeed, were the great birds that only the bravest men attacked them, and their feathers were worn only by prominent chiefs, the possession being a distinction that corresponds to the decorations given to brave warriors at the present day.
Not only were the feathers valued by the ancient Maoris, but the flesh was eaten, and the bones made into fishhooks and weapons of various kinds. In the songs of the natives the name of the moa often occurs, and so much was heard of this feathered giant that the naturalists thought, possibly, there might be some truth in it, and immediately began investigations which resulted in finding the remains of the great birds.
It was shown that about five hundred years ago these birds flourished on the different islands in great numbers, being finally exterminated by the Maoris, although there are some who believe that the great creatures still live in the high mountain lands of the interior. The greater number of the most perfect skeletons were discovered in caves. In explanation of this, the natives said that, according to their traditions, the country was consumed by fire from the volcano of Tongariro, and that the birds, being thus driven to the caves, were there imprisoned. Many, doubtless, died a natural death, or were killed by a change in the climate. One of the largest deposits was found in a swamp. Upon the peat being removed, many tons of the bones of the gigantic birds were exposed, and it would seem that here the unwieldy creatures had fled to escape their enemies, either man or beast.
In appearance the moas were huge, impressive creatures, the largest being over thirteen feet in height, with rudimentary or no wings; its legs appeared more like great columns for support rather than for locomotion, and the bones themselves were larger than those of an ox.
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Such powerful animals could not have submitted easily; and while the Maori legends hint at the danger of the chase, we can well imagine that it was only after a fierce struggle that the great game gave up. If in flocks, their mere rushing along would have been a wonderful sight, and few animals could have withstood the charge. In some localities the eggs were found, and in one spot a number were grouped together, suggesting that perhaps there had been a nest of the huge creatures, and that from some cause they had been led to desert it. Single eggs have been found in the caves, burnt and charred, showing that they formed a part of the food of the ancient tribes.
Although the moa eggs are much larger than any known at the present day, they are dwarfed by the eggs of a feathered giant which once lived on the island of Madagascar. Several years ago, the captain of a trading vessel made his way up a shallow river that found its way down to the sea at the southern extremity of the island, and there fell in with some native tribes that rarely mingled with newcomers or whites. Among the many curious objects noticed by the captain and his men about the native village were some dishes that were used to hold water and food of various kinds. They held about a gallon of liquid, and were round at the end, so that they had to be propped up. They proved to be enormous eggshells, capable, when entire, of holding over two gallons of water, or, to be more accurate, equal by exact measurement to one hundred and fifty hen's eggs.
From the owners the captain learned that the eggs came from a locality not far distant; and an expedition was formed later, that resulted in the discovery not only of the eggs, but of the remains of four distinct kinds of enormous birds, buried in vast sand heaps, that had perhaps blown over them and their nests. Natives were hired, and large trenches were dug in various directions, that exposed many of the bones. In one spot a great number of eggs were uncovered, but they were mostly broken. Their being grouped together, however, pointed to the belief that here was the nest of the great epiornis, and was probably the largest bird's nest in the world. The sand was carefully worked away, and the great shells exposed; but nearly all were damaged or cracked, and the sand had drifted into them, making one a good load for a big boy. But the nest was soon robbed, the workmen marching off with the finds upon their shoulders, to deposit them in a place of safety. Perfect shells are extremely rare, and are valued at many hundred dollars apiece.
If the moas were considered dangerous to attack, what must have been the aspect of these huge creatures when at bay? If they were hunted by early man, we can well imagine that strategy, instead of open chase, must have been the method of capture. Perhaps pitfalls were dug, and the great game driven into them, where they were destroyed by the rude stone clubs and spears of the natives.
The strange tale of the roc, told in the "Arabian Nights," is supposed to have been taken from a legend of this gigantic bird.