Whether land or sea animals are cleverer (30-34)

Schooling together has also given the bonitos their name of amia [*] and I think this is true of year-old tunnies as well.[*] As for the other kinds which are observed to live in shoals in mutual society, it is impossible to state their number. Let us rather, therefore, proceed to examine those that have a special partnership, that is, symbiosis. One of these is the pinna-guard,[*] over which Chrysippus[*] spilled a very great deal of ink; indeed it has a reserved seat in every single book of his, whether ethical or physical.[*] Chrysippus has obviously not investigated the sponge-guard[*]; otherwise he could hardly have left it out. Now the pinna-guard is a crab-like creature, so they say, who lives with the pinna[*] and sits in front of the shell guarding the entrance. It allows the pinna to remain wide open and agape until one of the little fish that are their prey gets within; then the guard nips the flesh of the pinna and slips inside; the shell is closed and together they feast on the imprisoned prey.

The sponge is governed by a little creature not resembling a crab, but much like a spider.[*] Now the sponge[*] is no lifeless, insensitive, bloodless thing; though it clings to the rocks,[*] as many other animals do, it has a peculiar movement outward and inward which needs, as it were, admonition and supervision. In any case it is loose in texture and its pores are relaxed because of its sloth and dullness; but when anything edible enters, the guard gives the signal, and it closes up and consumes the prey. Even more, if a man approaches or touches it, informed by the scratching of the guard, it shudders, as it were, and so closes itself up by stiffening and contracting that it is not an easy, but a very difficult, matter for the hunters to undercut it.

The purplefish[*] lives in colonies which build up a comb together, like bees. In this the species is said to propagate; they catch at edible bits of oystergreen and seaweed that stick to shells, and furnish each other with a sort of periodic rotating banquet, as they feed one after another in series.

And why should anyone be surprised at the community life of these when the most unsociable and brutal of all creatures bred in river, lake, or sea, the crocodile, shows himself marvellously proficient at partnership and goodwill in his dealings with the Egyptian plover?[*] The plover is a bird of the swamps and river banks and it guards the crocodile, not supplying its own food, but as a boarder making a meal of the crocodile’s scraps.[*] Now when it perceives that, during the crocodile’s sleep, the ichneumon[*] is planning to attack it, smearing itself with mud like an athlete dusting himself for the fray, the bird awakes the crocodile by crying and pecking at it. And the crocodile becomes so gentle with it that it will open its mouth and let it in and is pleased that the bird quietly pecks out, with its bill, bits of flesh which are caught in the teeth and cleans them up. When it is now satisfied and wants to close its mouth, it tilts its snout upward as an indication of its desire and does not let it down until the plover, at once perceiving the intention, flies out.

The so-called guide [*] is a small fish, in size and shape like a goby; but by reason of the roughness of its scales it is said to resemble a ruffled bird. It always accompanies one of the great whales, swimming in front of it and directing its course so that it may not go aground in shallows or be cut off in some lagoon or strait from which exit may be difficult. The whale follows it, as a ship obeys the helm, changing course with great docility. And whatever else, creature or boat or stone, it embraces in its gaping jaws is at once destroyed and goes to its ruin completely engulfed; but that little fish it knows and receives inside its mouth as in a haven. While the fish sleeps within, the whale remains motionless and lies by; but when it comes out again, the beast accompanies it and does not depart from it day or night; or, if it does, it gets lost and wanders at random. Many, indeed, have been cast up on the land and perished, being, as it were, without a pilot.[*] We, in fact, were witnesses of such a mishap near Anticyra not long ago; and they relate that some time ago, when a whale came aground not far from Boulis[*] and rotted, a plague ensued.

Is it, then, justifiable to compare with these associations and companionships those friendships which Aristotle[*] says exist between foxes and snakes because of their common hostility to the eagle; or those between bustards and horses[*] because the former like to approach and pick over the dung ? As for me, I perceive even in ants or bees no such concern for each other. It is true that every one of them promotes the common task, yet none of them has any interest in or regard for his fellow individually.

PHAEDIMUS. And we shall observe this difference even more clearly when we turn our attention to the oldest and most important of social institutions and duties, those concerned with generation and procreation. Now in the first place those fish that inhabit a sea that borders on lagoons or receives rivers resort to these when they are ready to deposit then; eggs, seeking the tranquillity and smoothness of fresh water, since calm is a good midwife. Besides, lagoons and rivers are devoid of sea monsters,[*] so that the eggs and fry may survive. This is the reason why the Black Sea is most favoured for spawning by very many fish. It breeds no large sea beasts at all except an infrequent seal and a small dolphin[*]; besides, the influx of rivers - and those which empty into the Black Sea are numerous and very large - creates a gentle blend conducive to the production of offspring. The most wonderful tale is told about the anthias,[*] which Homer[*] calls Sacred Fish. [*] Yet some think that sacred means important, just as we call the important bone os sacrum [*] and epilepsy, an important disease, the sacred disease.[*] Others interpret it in the ordinary sense as meaning dedicated or consecrated. Eratosthenes[*] seems to refer to the gilthead[*] when he says

Swift courser golden-browed, the sacred fish.

Many say that this is the sturgeon,[*] which is rare and hard to catch, though it is often seen off the coast of Pamphylia. If any ever do succeed in catching it, they put on wreaths themselves and wreathe their boats; and, as they sail past, they are welcomed and honoured with shouts and applause. But most authorities hold that it is the anthias that is and is called sacred, for wherever this fish appears there are no sea monsters. Sponge-fishers[*] may dive in confidence and fish may spawn without fear, as though they had a guarantor of their immunity. The reason for this is a puzzle: whether the monsters avoid the anthias as elephants do a pig[*] and lions a cock,[*] or whether there are indications of places free from monsters, which the fish comes to know and frequents, being an intelligent creature with a good memory.

PHAEDIMUS. Then again the care of the young is shared by both parents: the males do not eat their own young, but stand by the spawn to guard the eggs, as Aristotle[*] relates. Some follow the female and sprinkle the eggs gradually with milt, for otherwise the spawn will not grow, but remains imperfect and undeveloped. In particular the wrasse[*] makes a sort of nest of seaweed, envelops the spawn in it, and shelters it from the waves.

The affection of the dogfish[*] for its young is not inferior in warmth and kindliness to that of any of the tamest animals; for they lay the egg, then sustain and carry the newlyhatehed young, not without, but within themselves, as if from a second birth. When the young grow larger, the parents let them out and teach them to swim close by; then again they collect them through their mouths and allow their bodies to be used as dwelling-places, affording at once room and board and sanctuary until the young become strong enough to shift for themselves.[*]

Wonderful also is the care of the tortoise for the birth and preservation of her young. To bear them she comes out of the sea to the shore near at hand; but since she is unable to incubate the eggs or to remain on dry land for long, she deposits them on the strand and heaps over them the smoothest and softest part of the sand. When she has buried and concealed them securely,[*] some say that she scratches and scribbles the place with her feet, making it easy for her to recognize; others affirm that it is because she has been turned on her back by the male that she leaves peculiar marks and impressions about the place. But what is more remarkable than this, she waits for the fortieth day[*] (for that is the number required to develop and hatch out the eggs) and then approaches. And each tortoise recognizes her own treasure and opens it more joyously and eagerly than a man does a deposit of gold.

The accounts given of the crocodile are similar in other respects, but the animal’s ability to estimate the right place goes beyond man’s power to guess or calculate the cause. Hence they affirm that this creature’s foreknowledge is divine and not rational. For neither to a greater or a less distance, but just so far as the Nile will spread that season and cover the land in flood, just so far does she go to deposit her eggs, with such accuracy that any farmer finding the eggs may know himself and predict to others how far the river will advance.[*] And her purpose in being so exact is to prevent either herself or her eggs getting wet when she sits on them. When they are hatched, the one which, upon emerging, does not immediately seize in its mouth anything that comes along, fly or midge or worm or straw or plant, the mother tears to pieces and bites to death[*]; but those that are bold and active she loves and tends, thus bestowing her affection by judgement, as the wisest of men think right, not by emotion.[*]

Furthermore, seals[*] too bear their young on dry land and little by little induce their offspring to try the sea, then quickly take them out again. This they do often at intervals until the young are conditioned in this way to feel confidence and enjoy life in the sea.

Frogs in their coupling use a call, the so-called ololygon,[*] a cry of wooing and mating. When the male has thus attracted the female, they wait for the night together, for they cannot consort in the water and during the day they are afraid to do so on land; but when the darkness falls, they come out and embrace with impunity. On other occasions when their cry is shrill, it is because they expect rain.[*] And this is among the surest of signs.