Zoölogy: The Science of Animal Life / Popular Science Library, Volume XII (of 16), P. F. Collier & Son Company, 1922

This distinction, you see, is one of structure, as must be all the subdivisions that follow, if they are to be natural; and it is the clearest possible illustration of what we mean in zoölogy when we speak of "lower" and "higher" rank, for it is evident that it is a step upward, an advance from utter simplicity to greater and greater complexity, to proceed from a single-celled, all but helpless animalcule to one composed of many cells, with so vast a division of labor and extensive power of action as belong to such a combination of forces.

I do not propose to describe the Protozoa, because both of lack of space and lack of popular interest; anyone may learn about them in any good zoölogical textbook. But I do want to mention one very important point, on account of its bearing on the history of the higher animals. The protozoans reproduce their kind by simply splitting into two individuals, and these again split into another two, and so on; the process is called "fission." There comes a time, however, when the ability to do this ceases, and the protozoans of this strain will die out unless one or more of them meets with the same kind of animalcule, and the two "conjugate," or merge into one another, thus renewing their power to go on dividing.

Turning now to the Metazoa, or animals in general, we may say that they are flexible and usually motile beings, needing a supply of solid food which they convert by digestion into a fluid form, and then diffuse through their tissues. This accounts for the fact that all animals consist essentially of a tube, which in the simpler forms is very apparent. This typical tube consists of at least two layers—an outer, protective, and sensitive coat (ectoderm), and an inner, digestive one (endoderm). This two-layered condition is the limit for a few fresh-water and a vast number of marine animals therefore called "cœlenterata," of which the jellyfish and corals are examples. The two coats are separated, and at the same time connected, by a greater or less amount of a jellylike filling called the "mesenchyme." Into this intermediate mesenchyme both ectoderm and endoderm bud off cells which have certain functions—that is, they circulate the digested food, perform the creeping movements when such occur, expel the waste of the body, and most important of all, provide the germ cells by which the race is perpetuated.

Now in animals superior to the jellyfishes and the flatworms, the mesenchyme is replaced by a definite hollow tissue that produces a more efficient system of muscular, excretory, and reproductive organs. This hollow tissue is the "cœlom," and in the most advanced animals, such as the chordates, "the cœlom and its products are of the greatest importance, for they give rise to the vertebræ and the muscles, and in so doing mold the shape of the fish, amphibian, reptile, bird, and mammal."

In this brief sketch of some broad distinctions among the masses of animals we have a hint of the basis of their classification.

ANIMAL LIFE IN ORDERLY ARRANGEMENT

Classification is really only a sorting out of things into groups of the same kind. It may be artificial, according to fancy or convenience, or it may be by discovery of nature's inevitable development. It has been done crudely ever since men began to show curiosity about the things around them. They spoke of animals of the land, of the water, and of the air; of those that lived on vegetable fare as different from the flesh eaters; and in a more particular way they recognized various obviously like and unlike groups within the larger ones. All these distinctions were made on external appearance or behavior, and closer observation presently showed bad combinations, such as placing bats with birds simply because both flew, or whales with fish because both lived in water. Slowly it became evident that the only proper way to classify animals was by putting together those of like structure, and this could be accomplished only by intense comparative study of the interior anatomy of their bodies. Even here, however, progress was limited until the great light from the idea of organic evolution fell on biological science, by which it was perceived that the true criterion by which the proper place of any animal could be determined was its line of descent—a matter wherein the student of fossils could render, and has rendered, vast assistance. In other words a real, natural classification is according to ancestry, just as human relatives are grouped into families according to their known descent from the same forefather.

In this evolutionary light zoölogists have now perfected, at least in respect to its larger divisions, a classification of the animal kingdom which is generally accepted, and is followed in this book. It proceeds, reading downward, from the simpler and older forms of animal life to the more complex and more recent forms.

As to the names and relative order, or rank, of the subdivisions that we shall have occasion to mention, a few words are desirable. The only real fact is the individual animal. A collection of these so similar that they cannot be divided, and which will interbreed, but usually are sterile as to other animals, is termed a species. A number of species closely similar are bracketed together as a genus (plural genera), and this done, every individual is given a double name, as Felis leo to the lion, the first part of which indicates its genus, and is called its "generic" name, and the second indicates its species, and is called its "specific" name. This "scientific name" is given in Latin (or Latinized Greek) so that it may be unmistakably understood in all parts of the world, for a local name in one language would mean nothing to a student speaking some other language, or perhaps speaking the same language in another country; thus the name "robin" is applied to half a dozen very different birds in separate parts of the English-speaking world, and endless confusion would result were not each animal labeled in a language understood by everybody; and this must be a dead language, so that the significance of the terms applied shall not vary in place or time.

Several similar genera may form a family; families that agree in essential characteristics are united as orders; orders are grouped into classes; and finally like classes are assembled into a phylum (Greek, "a leaf": plural phyla), which is the largest division except the primary distinction of Protozoa and Metazoa.

CHAPTER IV
THE HUMBLEST OF ANIMALS—SPONGES

At the foot of the arrangement of phyla in the metazoa stand the Porifera, or sponges, fixed, plantlike, queerly shaped beings living in the sea, except one family in fresh waters, and abundant in all the warmer parts of the world on rocky bottoms. Whatever its size or shape, a live sponge (of which the commercial article is the more or less perfect skeleton) is coated with a thin fleshy membrane perforated by minute "inhalant pores" and larger holes termed "oscula," or mouths. Through the inhalant pores the sea water, with its burden of microscopic food, enters one of many spaces beneath the surface from which incurrent canals penetrate the interior of the sponge, constantly branching and growing smaller until lost to sight. The fine tips communicate with small cavities lined with cells that are fitted to seize and assimilate the nourishment brought them by the water. From these rudimentary stomachs go similar excurrent ducts that unite near the surface into trunk canals that carry out the used water and waste products. This system of circulation, bringing nutrient water strained through the pores, and expelling it forcibly after it has been cleared of food value, is kept in motion, with occasional periods of rest, by the action of "flagellate cells" that line certain tracts in the canals. These are elongated cells from which project whiplashlike filaments, one to each cell, whose movements in concert "resemble those which a very supple fishing rod is made to undergo in the act of casting a long line"—the movement being much swifter from without inward.

Beneath the outer skin, and all among the canals and cavities, is a filling of gelatinous materials, largely protoplasm, in which are formed great numbers of variously branched and strengthening spicules, of limy material in one group, and in others of a flinty or glassy nature, or in the absence of these, a network of "spongin," such as forms the skeleton of our common washing sponges. Spongin is a substance allied to silk in chemical composition, and the threads are felted together in such a way as to form a firm, yet elastic structure. "In some Noncalcarea, which are devoid of spicules, the place of these is taken by foreign bodies—shells of Radiolaria, grains of sand, or spicules from other sponges. In others again, such as the Venus's flower basket (Euplectella), the glass-rope sponge (Hyalonema), and others, the skeleton consists throughout of siliceous spicules bound together by a siliceous cement."

Sponges are reproduced both by budding in some form, which is an asexual way, and by the sexual method of eggs and male cells; these are formed in the same sponge, but rarely at the same time, and the early stages of development are passed in a brood-cell within the body of the parent sponge. Finally, the embryo escapes through one of the outgoing canals, swims about awhile, becomes thimble-shaped, and settling down, fastens itself by the closed end to some patch of mud, a rock, dead shell or seaweed, closes the open end of the "thimble," and proceeds to grow.

Sponges do not appear to be eaten by fishes or anything else. Countless lower animals, such as marine worms, mollusks, and so forth, burrow into them, however, in search of shelter; and in reversal, certain small sponges, such as the cliona of our shores, burrow into the shells of mollusks, which explains the honeycombed appearance of many of the shells picked up on the beach. Sponges have a large part in that very interesting and widespread phase of marine life called "commensalism," in which two animals become intimately associated in a mutually beneficial way, and are thus spoken of as messmates. Some kinds of sponge are never found growing except on the backs or legs of certain crabs; the sponge conceals and protects the crab, while itself benefits by being carried from place to place, with constantly new changes of fresh water and food. This sort of partnership occurs in many different groups of marine animals.

The capture and preparation of sponges for market employ thousands of men and boats in the eastern Mediterranean, whence the best are derived, and in the West Indies and Gulf of Mexico, where the sponges are of a coarser kind, and are gathered and prepared by rougher methods. They are taken commercially also in other seas, and frequently dredged from vast depths.

CHAPTER V
FLOWERS OF THE SEA

JELLYFISHES, NAMESAKES OF THE FABLED MEDUSA

The type and simplest form of that great division of aquatic, and almost exclusively marine, animals constituting the phylum Cœlenterata, is the polyp. It consists of a soft-skinned body, typically cup-shaped, containing a baglike digestive cavity, or primitive stomach, open at the top, and surrounded by the soft mesenchyme. The open upper end is the mouth, which is usually encircled by few or many tentacles—hollow outgrowths from the wall of the tubular gullet. Currents of water are drawn in by waving cilia at one end of the slitlike mouth, and pass out as waste at the other side; they bring food and oxygen from which nourishment is absorbed by the cells of the wall of the stomach (endoderm). Certain outgrowths within the mesenchyme act as feeble muscles for lengthening and shortening the body and tentacles; but there are no blood vessels or excretory organs.

Most polyps are fixed on some support, but in many the young pass through a free, swimming stage before settling down for life. All cœlenterates, and these only, are provided with "stinging cells," the nature and importance of which will be explained presently.

The simplest class is that of the hydroids (Hydroida), the type of which is the fresh-water hydra, so-called because, like the Hydra of ancient myth, when it is cut to pieces each part will grow into a new animal. It lives in ponds and pools of stagnant water, and is so small that a magnifying glass is necessary to study it, especially in the case of the green one of our two common American species—the other is brown. Indeed, similar hydroids of salt water are often taken and dried by unscientific collectors under the impression that they are feathery seaweeds. It is stalklike in shape, has long tentacles which always turn toward the greatest light, influenced like certain plants by heliotropism, and feeds on minute crustaceans and other minute organisms. Sometimes hydras are so abundant as to form a velvety surface in warm pools. The sexes are combined in the same individual, and the embryo forms within the body, then protrudes as a bud, which finally breaks away and after a time sinks, attaches itself at the base to some support, and grows into a perfect hydra. When quiescent or alarmed the tentacles are withdrawn, and the whole animal shrinks into a little lump.

Such is the general natural history of the group; but the oceanic hydroids have developed a vast variety of forms, and, with increased breadth of life, have added many interesting features and habits. Many of them are single, rooted in mud, or upon seaweeds, rocks or shellfish both dead and alive, and look like flowers of lovely tints; and they reproduce by putting forth separate reproductive parts, called "zooids," of various kinds. Others are in colonies that spread by extensions of the base from which arise other hydroids until a bunch of them are growing side by side; but these groups consist of hydroids differentiated into separate functions, for some devote themselves to capturing food which nourishes all, through the common base, while others produce the buds and eggs by which the colony is increased.

The most remarkable of these processes of reproduction is that which is represented by the jellyfishes so abundant in all seas, and so beautiful either when seen floating along just at the surface of the summer sea, or when at night they glow with phosphorescence like silvery, greenish rockets in the dark waves. Sometimes they occur in enormous "schools"—as we say of fish—all of one kind, filling the water thickly as far as one can see, and now and then in late summer are cast on the beach in long windrows. They range in size from a pinhead to ten or twelve feet in diameter. So big a Cyanea would probably weigh fifty pounds, but after a thorough drying would yield only a few ounces of semisolid matter, 99 per cent of the creature being water absorbed in its spongy tissues. Some are egg-shaped, others like a bell with a long clapper, but the ordinary form is that of an open umbrella, usually fringed about the edge with tentacles, sometimes short and fine, sometimes few and long, again a crowded circle of long snaky appendages. These elastic hanging tentacles are the means by which the medusa (as such a jellyfish is appropriately termed in science) captures its food, which consists not only of the minute things swarming in the plankton, but of other cœlenterates, small crustacea, fishes, anything in fact that it can entangle in its sticky net and sting to death. Every one of the filmy tentacles is thickly studded with microscopic cells (cnidocells) covered by a mere film, and having a spinelike trigger projecting from it. If this trigger is touched, or the film broken, out springs the coiled thread dart which is barbed and carries into the wound it makes a poison that benumbs. Thousands of these microscopic darts may prick the skin of a captive, and paralyze its strength—as it does that of a man who gets caught naked in the trailing net of one of the great northern medusæ. Being thus captured, the prey is drawn up to the mouth, which opens in the center of the under side of the umbrella float.

At intervals around the margin of the umbrella are small organs by which, it is believed, the creature maintains a sense of balance and direction, and perhaps of temperature or light, or both; for many medusæ sink out of sight by day and come to the surface at night; and when the sea is rough they descend to quiet depths. Thus they have the power not only to move ahead by the alternate contraction and dilatation of the disk, but to so alter their specific gravity as to sink or rise at will. They thus show the rudiments of both a muscular and a nervous system.

Very interesting, and often of great beauty, are the free-swimming, colonial, hydroid polyps called siphonophores. On a long stem or string are arranged, at the top, a bulb filled with gas or air, as a float, then a series of swimming bells whose pulsations carry the colony about, beneath which are various polyps and tentaclelike appendages, some to gather food, whose digested products circulate through the whole colony, others performing reproductive functions. The variety of form is considerable; and one of the most peculiar, and the only siphonophore familiar to most persons, is the exquisite Portuguese man-of-war, whose prismatically tinted bulb, as big as one's fist, is commonly met with in the Gulf Stream in the North Atlantic, and often is seen in great flocks in the tropics, bobbing on the surface of the waves in calm weather. Beneath that bulb trails a long tuft of tentacles and zooids, performing various functions, and so foreshadowing the division of labor that in the higher animals is effected by the different limbs and organs.

SEA ANEMONES, CORALS, AND SEA FANS

Sea anemones are simply large polyps of more complicated structure than the hydroid polyps. Instead of a simple, baglike, enteric cavity, the slitlike mouth admits food into a flattened gullet which leads to an enlarged digestive cavity. The gullet does not hang free, but is joined to the outer wall of the body by a series of radiating partitions, between which shorter ones extend from the inner surface of the ectoderm; and below the gullet the stomach wall extends in lobes between these partitions, through which holes permit the nutritive juices to circulate throughout the whole body. The whole upper surface of the polyp is covered by short tentacles arranged in circles. A current of water, induced by waving cilia, is constantly flowing in at one corner of the mouth and out at the other, supplying the animal with oxygen and a certain amount of minute food, and carrying off waste; but the anemones capture by means of their tentacles small fishes, mollusks and everything that can be caught and swallowed. As some anemones exceed a foot in diameter, large and powerful prey may sometimes be taken. It is interesting to note that anemones distinguish very quickly between what is good to eat and what is not. Most of them are sitting near shore on rocks or in tide pools, or are clinging to the larger seaweeds or clustered on the supports of wharves where the waves and tidal currents are continually washing about them, often with much violence, and dashing against them strands of weed or the small wreckage always floating in such a place. None of this is seized, or at least is not swallowed; but whether we are to conclude that this choice is made by intelligence, or only by chemical perception is a matter for study. When harm threatens, or when they crave rest, they withdraw all their gorgeous tentacles, infold them within their mouth, and shrink down into roundish gray lumps that attract neither the eye nor the appetite of any marauder.

The coral polyps differ from anemones only in details of structure that we need not consider, except to note the striking difference that here the base and the radiating partitions instead of being membranous secrete a firm skeleton either of lime or of the horny material termed chitin. The flesh overflows the walls, folding down from the top, so that the skeleton becomes really internal, although naked at the broad base. Some of the tropical stony corals are like big anemones, several inches across; and it is only when they infold all their richly colored tentacles and become a dull and shapeless lump that their stony cup is revealed. These are solitary, and form loosely lying corals, like that called the "mushroom." New ones are produced by the parent throwing off buds which for a time remain attached by a stalk, but finally fall off and settle down to grow—a process that may go on for a score of years. In the case of the huge coral masses called madrepores the buds remain attached to the parent. If they spread out naturally, W. Saville Kent explains, they build up by accumulation the large rounded masses known as "brain" corals and "star" corals, which are most numerous on coastline reefs, or form the base of the outer barrier reef. On the other hand, where the budding is terminal, or oblique, branching, treelike growths result in "staghorn" and similar forms.

The coral animals do not alone construct the reefs. Stony hydroids (millepores), shells of all sorts of mollusks, limy sea mosses (Bryozoa), animalcules and diatoms and various algæ stiffened or cased with lime or flint, and blown sand, contribute to build them up, especially when they near the surface of the sea.

The distribution of reef-building corals is interesting. At present they are limited to about 35 degrees each side of the equator, but are irregularly distributed, owing mainly to differences of temperature in the water, which must not be colder than 68 degrees F. Hence they exist farther away from the equator in the path of warm ocean currents. The Gulf Stream accounts for the coral islands along the coast of Florida and in the Bermudas, which is their farthest point on the American coast; and the warmth of the water accounts for their extensive presence along the eastern coasts of Australia and Africa, when few exist on the western sides of these continents; similarly the western coasts of South and Central America are nearly free of coral banks. Other causes of limitation exist. For example, the noticeable absence of coral growth along the coast of South America is largely, if not altogether, owing to the fresh water and silt brought down by the great rivers there—both prejudicial to coral life.

Coral colonies increase and ultimately form banks wherever warm, pure sea water is constantly present, and not more than about 125 feet deep. Here, spreading and continually rising on the skeletons of dead generations, they form a long line close to the land called a "fringing" reef; and outside of this, beyond a space swept by the currents, may arise a second, still more flourishing bank, termed "barrier" reef. The great barrier reef that extends for 1,200 miles along the eastern coast of Australia—a vast chain of banks and islands—is an amazing example of what these minute animals can accomplish, given time; and geology can point to still more stupendous results of their work in the early history of the globe.

Very characteristic, in the great coral-growing region of the South Sea archipelago, is the ring-shaped island or "atoll," which incloses a quiet lagoon, usually with an open entrance. The reason for such a form has excited much discussion, one explanation being that its origin was about a small island that slowly subsided, the coral keeping pace in rising as the island sank, until finally the land disappeared; another that the circular reef arose from a submerged elevation, and when it came near the surface ceased to grow except on its outer border because it ceased to get suitable water and food, until after a time the central part died out, leaving a ring. Both explanations may be true of different situations.

When a reef comes near to the surface the branching coral is knocked to pieces by the waves, and there are added to this breakage shells and bones, calcareous seaweeds, and what not; and all this is ground into sand by the surf, washed high on the top of the ridge and manured by dead plants and animals, and by the droppings of birds, until finally a soil forms beyond the reach of the tides. Then, if it is in the far southern seas, a drifting coconut may lodge there and be rolled high enough to be left to strike its roots into the sand and begin the grove that by and by will make the islet attractive to men. The thick husk of the coconut resists harm from sea water, near which this palm prefers to grow in just such a sandy, shelly soil as the uprising reef affords. The nuts that so often fall into the surf or are carried out by rivers make long voyages without losing their vitality. Here, again, the situation of most coral islets in the course of currents is advantageous, for thus not only these nuts but other useful seeds and colonizing elements drift directly to their doors, as it were. Birds, wandering widely over the waters, espy the bit of land, and aid by their visits to increase its fertility and often add to its flora. Reefs near shore, especially in Florida and southward, become jungles of mangroves, which not only spring from floating seeds but send down from their branches sprouts that become rooted in the mud and spread the growth interminably. Such a "mangrove key" soon attracts an extensive population of plants and animals and speedily becomes a considerable island.

A great variety of corals, however, are not reef builders, and some species secrete little if any lime; these solitary relatives are found scattered all over the oceans, in deep water as well as shallow, wherever the bottom is suitable, and an immense amount of interesting information about them is to be found in books devoted to this beautiful group of animals.

The class includes two or three other orders of coral—polyps that grow in a solitary way or in groups, forming those elegant objects called sea fans, sea pens, and so forth, which can be referred to only briefly. One of these is the order Alcyonaria, in which some are soft-bodied, others are strengthened by a network of spicules. A very beautiful one is the "sea pen," which takes the shape of an ostrich plume; another is the strange mass of parallel tubes called organ-pipe coral; and some of them are very large, the great tree coral of the eastern Atlantic depths being sometimes as tall as a man, while it looks like a sturdy, leafless tree. As in all the others, however, it is covered by a living fleshy coat of protoplasmic substance studded with polyps whose gay colors and waving tentacles give it the appearance of being clothed with minute sessile blossoms. The best known of this group, probably, is the red coral of commerce, which is the scarlet, ivorylike interior stem of a branching alcyonarian colony. This coral has from the earliest time been cut into cameos by lapidaries, as well as used for making necklaces and other toilet ornaments.

CHAPTER VI
UNINVITED GUESTS

FLATWORMS, FLUKES AND TAPEWORMS

The phylum Platyhelminthes follows the cœlenterates in the ascending series of zoölogical classification, and includes a baneful company of creatures badly called "worms," which show none of the segmented or ringlike form of body that characterizes the true worms of the phylum Annulata to which we shall come presently. On the contrary, they are a group of small, soft-bodied, flattened animals, which first show that two-sided character, or bilateral symmetry, which has apparently been absent from all the groups we have studied hitherto, whose members are circular or globular in shape, and whose organs, in the adult, are arranged radiately.

The simplest are the planarians (Turbellaria), which live a free life, as a rule, although some are parasitic. They are little, thin, leaf-shaped creatures that creep on the bottom of ponds and even of deep lakes, or swim in the sea, and feed upon algæ and minute animals.

Similar to them in appearance are the flukes (Trematoda), of which the best known of a large variety is that which infests sheep. Most of the trematodes are parasitic.

The third class of flatworms is the Cestoda, the members of which are universally parasitic, and are known principally as "tapeworms" in reference to their form.

The phylum Nematothelminthes contains an assemblage of related worms, some marine, but mostly living in fresh waters or on land, which are eellike in form, very slender, and often have amazing length. The first and lowest class is that of the nematodes, of which the minute "vinegar eels" and "paste eels" are familiar examples. The remainder of the nematodes are parasitic, and many of them are dangerous parasites.

In an allied family and genus (Trichina) is placed one of the most dangerous of human parasites, the Trichina spiralis.

Here, too, comes that "hairworm" (Gordius), which most country folks call "hair eel" or "hair snake." Many assert with the most positive faith that if you will soak a horsehair in water it will "turn into a snake," and will show you this long threadworm in a horse trough to prove it. I never knew a cautiously made experiment in that direction to succeed; nevertheless the fanciful error survives. The gordius, which does look like a hair from a gray mare's tail, is somewhat aquatic in its habits.

CHAPTER VII
DWELLERS BETWEEN TIDE MARKS

THE COLONIAL MOSS ANIMALS

Seaweeds and rocks at and below the limit of the ebbing tide are often covered with small bushy growths, or with lacelike incrustations that are alive. These are moss animals, representing the class Polyzoa of the phylum Molluscoida. They are minute, soft creatures that live in colonies formed by the repeated budding of the members, all connected by a fleshy base so that each contributes to the nourishment of all. "Each little animal occupies a separate stony or horny capsule, into which it may withdraw and even close the opening with a lid.... The mouth is surrounded by tentacles that in many species arise from a horseshoe-shaped or disklike base. These tentacles are always beset with hairlike bristles which by their movements serve to set up currents, and thus to drive minute organisms into the mouth."

A typical example of these polyzoans (or bryozoans) is Bugula turrita, so abundant wherever our northeastern coast is rocky that the rocks below tide level appear covered with its mossy tufts, which are often ten inches long and profusely branched. The main stems are orange-yellow, while the terminal branches are yellowish white. The delicate tracery so frequently seen on the fronds of kelp, and on shells and stones along both shores of the Atlantic indicate colonies, or their remains, of the lace coralline (Membranipora); and the dull red or pinkish crust so common on shells and stones in shaded tidepools represents successive colonies of the "red-crust" polyzoan (Escharella variabilis), layer crusting over layer. A similar history accounts for the curious nodules called "false coral" so common in moderately deep water in Long Island Sound. Similar polyzoans, which exist in great variety, both modern and fossil, contributed extensively to the formation of the older strata of sedimentary limestones.

ANCIENT LAMP SHELLS

Associated in structure with these minute colonists is the ancient race of brachiopods (Brachiopoda, "arm-footed") or lamp shells, although they much more nearly resemble bivalved mollusks, whence, by the way, comes the name of the phylum to which both belong—Molluscoida, which means "mollusklike."

The race of the brachiopods goes back to the beginning of the geologic record. A few living examples are still found in the ocean, some of which, as lingula, have changed so little that they can hardly be told from the most ancient fossils of their family. Certain species are dredged abundantly on both coasts of the Atlantic from water a few fathoms deep where the bottom is rocky. They look like small mussels at first sight, but on examination show a vast difference in structure. The bivalve shells, instead of growing on the right and left sides of the animal, as in bivalve mollusks, cover its back and front, and the head parts are at the gape of the valves. At the hinge end of the shell the lower valve overlaps (it is the shape of this lower shell, like that of an old Roman lamp, which suggests their common name, "lamp shells") and the hinder end of the body projects as a stalk, by which the animal fastens itself to the rock. "The mouth in the brachiopods is flanked by two curiously coiled and feathered arms which lie within the cavity between the shells, and are supported by skeletal rods attached to the upper shell. These serve as gills, and also to capture the minute creatures upon which the brachiopod feeds."

Owing to their great abundance, world-wide distribution, and remote antiquity, as well as their excellent state of preservation, brachiopods occupy a very conspicuous rank among extinct invertebrates, and furnish us besides with a large number of important index fossils. They are to be found in immense variety from the Cambrian to the present, most numerously in formations from Silurian to Permian times.

STARFISHES, SEA URCHINS, AND TREPANGS

We have now arrived at the point (phylum Echinodermata, "spiny-skinned") where a distinctly new type of interior structure appears in the possession by animals of a hollow space (cœlom) between the outer skin and the wall of the digestive tube which now becomes occupied by definite organs instead of by an almost uniform mesenchyme, as in the sponges and cœlenterates. These organs arise from an interior lining membrane called "mesoderm."

Henceforth, therefore, we shall deal with cœlomate animals, among which the echinoderms are lowest in rank. The simplest of them is the "sea lily" which lives rooted on the bottom in deep water, and sways about on a slender, jointed stalk, looking much like the flower after which it is named. It is of interest chiefly as a survivor of the tribe of crinoids that were so varied and numerous in early Paleozic times that massive Devonian limestones are composed largely of their remains; and the type has changed little through the ages. It consists typically of a cup, mounted on its stem like the calyx of a flower, and composed of circles of calcareous plates, definite in form and in relative position, that contain and protect a well-organized body. Surrounding the open mouth of the cup is a circle of long, jointed, much-branched tentacles that sweep the water, capture passing prey, and bring it into the mouth of the crinoid within the circling base of the arms.

If now you were to cut off its stalk, lay the crinoid on the sand, mouth down and arms outspread, beside a brittle star or a basket fish, which also have many-branched arms, it might be difficult to tell them apart, yet they represent different orders; and from this, by way of the naked serpent star, it is but a short transition to the starfish, where the arms are no longer tentaclelike, but are simply pointed extensions of a central body; this, in fact, is the case, for now they are no longer prehensile organs, but are supports, mainly serviceable in locomotion, and the stomach and ovaries are partly lodged in them. The main point just now, however, is the fact that here, and in the successive changes of form to be shown, the pattern of plates that form a strengthening mosaic in the skin of the central part of the body remains identical.

All starfishes are not as prettily symmetric as our familiar five-finger. Some are shorter in the arms, and much broader and thicker in the body; and if you will examine a collection of preserved specimens of the echinoderms you will see that you can trace gradation of form right around to the bun-shaped cake urchin, on whose top the five-pointed star is printed, and thence to the globular sea egg, which the French called "sea urchin," using one of their names for the hedgehog. Furthermore, the five sections of the shell of the urchin, which represent the five arms of the starfish folded forward and grown together into a spherical case, are to be traced again, outlined by appendages, in the elongated and leathery hide of the trepangs and sea cucumbers of the order Holothuria.

It is as an illustration of homology, that is, the resemblance between parts that have the same relation to the typical plan of structure, and as an example of how almost endless variations of form may arise within a single type, that the echinoderms are of most interest. Otherwise it may be said that they serve as food for fishes and some other creatures, including coastwise savages, and as curiosities in geological museums and in aquaria; and that starfishes are sadly destructive of cultivated oyster beds. We may therefore dismiss them, and devote a page or two to the worms.

EARTHWORMS AND BEACHWORMS

Although various parasitic creatures have been described as flat "worms," round "worms," and so forth, naturalists regard as true worms only those of higher organization classified in the phylum Annulata, or annelids, the distinctive characteristic of which is that its members have elongated bodies divided into ringlike sections. These represent a division of the internal parts into a series of structural segments or "matemeres," each supplied with its own set of organs, yet connected by blood vessels and nerves, and the whole traversed by tubular organs serviceable to the entire animal. The nervous system consists of a "brain" in the head, and a double, ventral nerve-cord with a ganglion in every segment, foreshadowing the nervous system in insects and other arthropods. The phylum embraces three classes: 1. Chætopoda—earthworms and marine annelids; 2. Gephyrea—marine worms, otherwise called sipunculoids; and 3. Hirudinidæ—leeches.

The earthworm or "angleworm" (that is, angler's worm, bait worm) of the "common garden variety," to use the phrase of old-fashioned encyclopedias, is a typical example of the first class, whose Latin name refers to the bristles (setæ) on the flattened lower surface of the body that serve the worm as "feet." A magnifying glass shows them in four double rows allowing eight to each of the rings into which the body is so plainly divided; their extremities are directed rearward, and by their means the worm pushes itself along, and is able to cling to and climb not only the walls of its burrow but vertical surfaces when not too smooth. Thus they are found frequently on roofs and in other elevated and surprising places, to which they have crawled in the night, when, as well as in warm, rainy weather, they are likely to wander a great deal. The long and greatly extensible and elastic body tapers almost equally at each end, but the head end is that which goes forward in crawling, and a lens will show a mouth on its lower surface, beneath a sort of thick lip. A long gullet leads into an expansion called the crop, and that into a large, tough-walled stomach, beyond which an intestine leads to the last segment. The thirty-third to thirty-seventh segments are swollen, forming the "belt" (clitellum), which denotes maturity, but seems to have no special functions. The senses are few and dull. No eyes exist, nor sense of hearing, but the skin is extremely sensitive to vibrations, and to bright light, as might be expected in a nocturnal animal. The sense of taste is discriminating. The eggs are extruded in such a way as to form a glutinous ring about the body, which, when complete, is slipped over the head of the worm, and left to hatch in warm soil under a stone.

Earthworms live underground in burrows that are sunk well below the frost line. In digging they work head downward, gnawing—although they have no hard jaws—and swallowing the earth that is not easily crowded aside and then throwing it out and perhaps heaping it up as "castings." The tunnel must be wide enough to let its occupant turn around in it, and it ends in a deep chamber in which one or more worms may pass the winter without freezing. These worms naturally seek a loose, damp soil, not only for ease of working, but because moisture is a necessity, as they breathe through their skin; hence they abound in meadows and cultivated soil, and are not found on high, dry plains. During the day they lie near the surface, often with the head just protruding. Here they are discovered by sharp-eyed birds and garter snakes, and sacrificed by thousands, notwithstanding the strength with which they hang on to their retreats by the tail. When it retires to the depths of its burrow this worm plugs the mouth of the tunnel with leaves which it draws always by the base, exhibiting considerable intelligence in manipulating the various shapes of leaves to that end.

The world-wide distribution of the earthworm is to some extent owing to man's agency. On our northwestern plains, for example, these worms originally were absent, but are now widely distributed and flourishing there, having been carried from the east, as eggs or small worms, in the soil packed about the roots of trees and shrubs transplanted to western orchards and gardens. This fact may have something to do with the recent westward spread of the robin, which, more than any other of our birds, is a hunter of them. Except where excessively numerous these worms do far more good than harm in a garden.

The naids (Naidæ) are small transparent worms that creep about on vegetation in fresh water, and, besides laying large eggs, they occasionally divide into two at a place in the body that appears arranged for this purpose, for it consists of a zone of very elementary tissue. "Gradually," as Minot records, "the tissue of this interpolated zone transforms itself into muscles, nerves, etc., and, growing meanwhile, it forms in front a new tailpiece to patch out the anterior half of the worm, and behind it forms a new head for the posterior half of the original body. The zone then breaks and there are now two worms." A relative, the lumbriculus, does the trick in a much more prosaic way, breaking in two first, and letting the separate halves acquire head or tail as best they may. This ability to reproduce lost parts is of much service in the life of the species and often of the individual, which may still live after some water tiger has bitten it in two—and these worms are at the base of the food supply of rivers and ponds, and would soon be exterminated were they not capable of rapid and profuse multiplication.

Worms of this class dwell in great numbers and variety in the sea and in salt-water meadows and beaches, and are often beautiful as well as interesting objects of study for the visitor at the shore. The sea mouse (Aphrodite), for instance, which is about three inches long and of oval shape, is covered with hairlike bristles that glisten with brilliant green, red, and yellow iridescence; it is to be looked for on the mud just below the low-tide line, and inhabits both coasts of the North Atlantic. The body of the common "clay worm," dug for bait at low tide, which is olive in general tone, gleams with pearly iridescence, while its innumerable feet bear gills that are green and salmon-red. Another (Lumbriconereis) is known as "opal worm" for good reason; and our sands abound in slender scarlet worms of the same genus named "red thread." All these worms bury themselves in the sand, or wander through it in search of prey, for they are carnivorous, and do not hesitate to kill and eat each other. Some are fairly sedentary, and protect themselves against fishes, crabs, mollusks, and bigger annelids that seek them, by forming tubes by means in some cases of a shelly secretion, but more usually by cementing bits of shell, stones, and grains of sand into an irregular tube lining the burrow; the slender, limy serpentine tubes often seen on stones or dead shells in tide pools, are, or were, the homes of such protected worms, most commonly of the "shell worm" (Serpula). "Often a number of these calcareous worm tubes are seen clustered together. When undisturbed the worm protrudes its beautiful feathered gills, which resemble a little passion flower projecting from the mouth of the tube. These gills are variously colored in different individuals, some being purplish brown, banded with white and yellow, while others are yellowish green, orange, or lemon-yellow. At the least disturbance, such as a shock or a shadow, the gills are instantly withdrawn into the stony tube, and the opening stopped by a horny disk." In the Gulf of Mexico extensive colonies of these worms often form, and as the early generations die others erect their tubes above them; as this goes on sand and shell fragments fill around and between the tubes, and after a long time the whole mass becomes a solid reddish, loose-lying rock, composed chiefly of serpula tubes, which in Florida is dragged up from the beach and used as building stone.

The third class (Hirudinidæ) of Annulata is that of the leeches, those ugly, but useful, worms of land and sea. In spite of their sluglike appearance the leeches are segmented worms, although the wrinkles on their gray, mottled skins do not indicate the position of the segments beneath. The mouth on the under side of the head is armed with jaws and sharp teeth that make three or more cuts through the skin, whence the blood is sucked; there is also a holding sucker near the tail. Their attacks cause little pain, and that fact has led physicians to put them into use when bleeding is required. The eggs of leeches are laid in moist earth in little packets, and hatch in five or six weeks. The growth to maturity is slow, and continues during a long life. Many species abound in ponds and stagnant waters. Asia has terrestrial leeches, swarming in moist vegetation; and in Ceylon the minute leeches are a terrible plague in certain regions. Many also are wholly marine. Some of the larger forms attack fishes directly, and quickly kill them by sucking their blood away; others are true parasites. On the other hand the leeches of our lakes are fed on by the whitefish and similar fishes. They are a great pest to our fresh-water turtles.

CHAPTER VIII
BUILDERS OF THE PEARLY SHELLS

The mollusks, or "shellfish" (phylum Mollusca) are a homogeneous group of soft-bodied, unsegmented, typically bilateral, elaborately organized animals, mainly aquatic and marine, whose origin—probably as a derivative from a wormlike stock—is lost in the mists of geologic prehistory. In most cases the mollusks secrete from a larval gland an external shell which serves as skeleton and defensive armor; are bisexual and produce eggs, or if monœcious are never self-fertilizing. They possess a heart, and blood circulation (usually colorless); breathe in the water by means of gills, or, in the air, by a primitive kind of lung; have a nervous system and senses in some cases of a high order; the organs are normally paired, and protected by a general covering integument called the "mantle"; and the creeping species move by a muscular, elastic, ventral organ styled the "foot," while the swimmers are provided with a variety of swimming organs. Mollusks vary in size from all but microscopic minuteness to a bivalve weighing 500 pounds or a squid half as big as a right whale. They occur in all seas at all depths, abound in fresh waters both swift and stagnant, and are scattered over the earth wherever vegetation flourishes.

The phylum Mollusca is divided into five classes, as follows, and it will be noticed that four of the names refer to the locomotive organ or "foot" (Greek pous, "foot"):