the time to spread out
miles of nets in the path of this living mass of silvery fish. They are in
fine condition, well fed, and ready to lay their eggs.
They are moving slowly but surely towards the right place where those
eggs should be laid. What guides them? Why do they go this way and
not that in the vast ocean? We do not really know what guides them; so
we say that they obey a wonderful, unfailing guide--"instinct."
Of course you have seen and tasted the "hard" roe of a Herring; but I do
not suppose you have ever troubled to count all those little round eggs.
Each roe contains some thirty thousand of them! What a huge number
of young ones for one Herring! Still, this is not a large family, as fish
families go. The Cod lays about nine million eggs!
At last the Herrings reach the breeding grounds that they sought, and
the eggs are laid. The eggs of most sea-fish just drift on the surface of
the ocean, at the mercy of their enemies, and washing here and there as
the current sends them. The Herring's eggs sink to the bottom and,
being rather sticky, adhere wherever they fall.
There they lie in masses, on the bed of the sea, and then guests of all
kinds hasten to enjoy such a rare feast of eggs, laid ready for them. One
of the first guests is the Haddock. He comes in his thousands, greedy
for his part of the good food; but, knowing this, the fishermen also
hasten to the spot, and the Haddock pays dearly for his love of Herring
eggs.
Only a few out of each thousand eggs will escape their enemies, and
the baby Herrings, which hatch in about a fortnight, run many dangers;
thus, in the end, the huge family of Mrs. Herring is reduced to a small
one. Even so, there are countless numbers of the tiny fish. They soon
grow shining scales, like those of their parents, and move towards the
coast.
It is a pretty sight, these little silvery Herrings playing in the shallow
water. Millions of them dart about and flash in the sunshine, during the
summer months, round our coasts. Sea-birds and other enemies hover
round, to feast on the tiny fish. Great numbers of these baby Herrings
are caught and sold as "Whitebait."
The older Herrings, having laid their eggs, leave the shallows, and
make their way into deep water. They are no longer nice to eat, and the
Herring harvest is over until the following season.
In our talk on flat-fish we shall notice how they are caught, near the bed
of the sea, in the trawl-net. Now this net is of no use for the capture of
Herrings. They swim in the open water, near the surface, and so another
kind of trap, the drift-net, is used.
Hundreds of vessels sail from our fishing ports when King Herring is
about. Each vessel carries a number of drift-nets. These nets are to be
let down like a hanging wall, in the path of the shoal, at night. Corks or
bladders are fastened to the upper edge of the nets. Of course they are
all mended and made ready before the vessels reach the fishing grounds.
It is not easy to know where to shoot the nets; all the skill and
knowledge of the fisherman are needed to locate the shoals, and,
without this knowledge, he would come home with an empty vessel.
Even as it is, he sometimes catches no more fish than would fill his hat.
A sharp look-out is kept. An oily gleam in the sea tells the knowing
fisherman that the shoal is there; or he may see a Gull swoop down and
carry off a Herring. Then the nets are put out in the path of the shoal. A
big fleet of fishing vessels may let down a thousand miles of nets!
The Herrings, not seeing the fine wall of net, swim into it. Now the
openings in the net--the meshes--are one inch across, just wide enough
for the Herring to poke his head through. Once through, he is caught.
His gill-covers prevent him from drawing back again. Thousands of
other Herrings are held tight, all around him, and the rest of the shoal
scatters for the time being.
When the nets are hauled in, the fisherman beholds a mighty catch, a
sight to repay him for all his trouble. On being taken from its watery
home each Herring is dead almost at once--"as dead as a Herring."
Then comes the race to the market. Once in port, the vessels are rapidly
emptied. Hundreds of thousands of shining, silvery bodies are piled on
the quays--a sight worth seeing! An army of
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