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silvokrent · 6 years

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An excerpt from the zoological text The Hunter’s Encyclopedia of Animals (First Edition).

Chapter VI: Plesioth

The plesioth (Plesichthys coxa) is a species of pelagic wyvern found off intertropic coasts across the globe. At a weight of 4.7 tons and a length averaging 26 meters, it contends for the title of largest marine predator. The plesioth’s physiology is adapted to a life spent transitioning between land and water — it is capable of diving to depths of 450 meters at speeds of 54 km/h (34 mph), and remaining submerged for 40 minutes at a time. The plesioth’s ability to fly was forfeited early in its evolutionary history, replaced by adaptations that allow it to withstand extreme deep-sea pressure and low concentrations of dissolved O2. Its vestigial wings, meanwhile, underwent exaptation and have been jury-rigged into fin-like appendages that assist in swimming. According to one study, the plesioth’s lifespan is approximately 50 years.

The plesioth has few natural predators as a result of its venomous spines. Laterally-visible, horizontal orange stripes advertise the neurotoxin to any potential predators. Every so often, juveniles are susceptible to predation by sympatric predatory megafauna. In addition to its aposematic coloration, the plesioth can ward off predators by forcefully ejecting a fluid from a pair of glandular sacs inside its mouth. This liquid projectile can be accurately sprayed as far as 5 meters (16 feet). The fluid is miscible in water, and therefore exclusively used on land. Both of the aforementioned adaptations are utilized as antipredator mechanisms and have no function in hunting. Rather, the plesioth is an ambush predator that kills its prey through a combination of stunning (tail-slaps, high-velocity breaches) and drowning. Countershading obliterates its outline in the water, with its dark dorsal scales making it inconspicuous to animals looking down on it from above. The bulk of its diet is comprised of fish, and as the plesioth matures it begins to incorporate larger prey species such as pinnipeds, pseudophids, and ornithischians. Because of the plesioth’s moderate fecundity and wide distribution, its conservation status is classified as least concern.

The plesioth has a recurring presence in the cultures of seafaring people. Although it doesn’t actively hunt humans or wyverians, plesioths have been known to follow ships at a distance. They scavenge on bycatch and waste jettisoned from vessels, and occasionally raid nets and fishing lines for an easy meal. As a consequence of conditioning them to associate boats with food, plesioths are the most likely culprits of attacks on shipwreck victims. Their ghostly white, translucent third eyelids, in conjunction with their habit of congregating near sunken ships, may have influenced the myth of plesioths being psychopomps. A number of equatorial communities honor the plesioth through week-long ceremonies and parties. Such festivals are accompanied by the custom of mounting a plesioth’s skull or severed head on an ornately-carved pole, not unlike a Mari Lwyd. Anthropologists speculate that a misunderstanding led to the belief that the mounted head was actually a hammer. Traditional dishes include a ceviche marinated in citrus, and rotten flesh fermented in lactic acid. In medicine, the plesioth’s venom has potential as an anesthetic and a pharmaceutical drug for treating insomnia.

Other names for the plesioth include the plesio, water wyvern, and shark wyvern. The latter is a title it shares with the cephadrome (Selacharena alata) and anorupatisu (Pristocephale glaciesecans).

The plesioth’s name is an example of semantic drift. The word is originally derived from the clade Plesiosauroidea, a group of long-necked marine reptiles. Plesiosaurus is a compound of the Greek words plēsíon “near” and saûros “lizard,” and refers to the group’s resemblance to limbed squamates. Over time, the prefix plesio- was recontextualized to have the meaning “like or similar to a plesiosaur.” Thus, the plesioth was named for its resemblance to plesiosaurs, and was assigned the suffix -ioth to maintain the naming convention already established in the common names of other animals (like the lavasioth and epioth). Ironically, the genus Plesichthys is a portmanteau of plēsíon and ikhthús “fish,” and was named for the plesioth’s near fish-like appearance.

Taxonomy and evolution

Fossil evidence suggests that the plesioth evolved from a unique lineage of diving wyverns 10 million years ago. Unlike other vivernans of that period, the plesioth’s ancestor Marincola marincola [†] was semiaquatic, roosting in small colonies on seaside bluffs. Its streamlined body reduced drag when plunging from flight, allowing it to hit the water at breakneck speeds exceeding 80 km/h (50 mph). Air sacs in the face and chest cushioned the impact, a feature which was later lost in its descendant (along with skeletal pneumaticity). The ancestral plesioth moved underwater via foot propulsion, with the wings used for steering. Today P. coxa primarily swims using a combination of its webbed feet and an undulatory locomotion reminiscent of BCF (body-caudal fin) swimming. A comparison of the foot morphology between the holotype M. marincola and modern gannets supports the diving → swimming transition theory, and proposes a convergence amongst semiaquatic theropods.

While the plesioth shares a common ancestor with flying wyverns, it has a long history of genetic independence from its closest relatives (raths, khezus, and other vivernans). Molecular systemic DNA research places the plesioth in a basal lineage of gymnopteronoid.

Subspecies

There are only 2 extant representatives of the family Marincolidae. Each subspecies is characterized by scale coloration, distribution, circadian rhythms, and preference for hunting techniques.

The oil-backed plesioth, or informally simplified to oil-back (P. c. coxa), is the nominate subspecies. Its range encompasses the subtropic and tropic coastlines of the West Dragon and East Dragon Oceans, and the interior seas of South Elde: Jyuwadore, Shikuse, and Moga. It inhabits seagrass meadows, kelp forests, coral reefs, and coastal alcoves which have a water temperature between 13°C and 29 °C (56°F and 85°F). Although P. c. coxa is active during the day it is primarily a crepuscular predator, and has greater success at hunting during the hours of dusk and dawn. It gets its name from the appearance of its dark blue scales when seen in clear water with low turbidity; the contrast gives it a resemblance to “an oil spill come to life.”

The green plesioth (P. c. viridis), unlike P. c. coxa, dwells in brackish ecosystems, including wetlands, swamps, and estuaries. They typically avoid venturing out into saltwater, although fishermen have reported seeing them as far as a mile from the nearest coast. It’s generally accepted that the presence of green plesioths in mangrove swamps (near Jumbo Village) and river mouths (like those of the Metape Jungle and Flooded Forest) reduces competition with the oil-back. P. c. viridus takes advantage of its green pigmentation by concealing itself amongst hydrophytic plants such as water lettuce and duckweed. Perhaps because of its greater reliance on camouflage, this diurnal subspecies almost never breaches when hunting.

Characteristics

Physical description

As a member of the clade Viverna, the plesioth’s body plan is largely representative of the wyvern archetype: a bipedal stance and horizontal posture with the tail held parallel to the ground. Where the skeletal structure differs is in the wings. While the thumb in other wyverns is short and supports the leading edge of the wing, all of the plesioth’s metacarpals and phalanges are elongated and involved in supporting the membrane. The pleated patagium can be tucked against the plesioth’s torso while swimming, thereby reducing surface area and contributing to its streamline, hydrodynamic shape. The wings range in color from white to cream, with orange spots on the outer edge of the dactylo- and iliopatagium. The backside of the torso and head are deep blue, while the underbelly features white scales. The ventral and dorsal regions are sharply delineated by lateral orange stripes that run from the conical snout to the tail along the frontal/coronal plane. Imbricate, ovate scales flow down the body in a head-to-tail configuration that allows for a smoother flow of water over the body to reduce drag. Their visual and functional similarity to cycloid scales on teleosts is homoplastic. The feet are totipalmate.

The plesioth partly owes its charismatic appearance to its white red-tipped semifins. The semifins are webbed structures supported by cartilaginous spines, attached to an endoskeletal base with associated muscles for movement. Being cartilaginous makes the semifins flexible and allows them to flare or collapse against the body. They are classified according to location on the body: dorsal, supercaudal, subcaudal, cranial, tarsal, and pseudopercular. The semifins’ spines are the site of venom conduction.

When submerged, the palatal valve at the back of the mouth creates a watertight seal which barricades the esophagus and trachea. This enables the plesioth to seize prey underwater without drowning, although it has to return to land in order to eat. When hunting, its cone-shaped, slightly recurved teeth allow it to tear through small and medium-sized fish. The carinae (edges of the teeth) are finely-serrated with denticles on the front and back, suited for biting prey outside of an exclusively piscivorous diet. The dentary and premaxilla/maxilla hold 36 teeth that are more densely-packed toward the front of the jaw, and that decrease in size toward the back of the mouth. During attacks, the nictitating membrane is drawn across the eye to protect it from abrasions.

The loss of tyrosinase function results in a genetic mutation called amelanism. Colloquially known as seabream plesioths (after fish in the genus Pagellus), individuals with this pigmentation abnormality don’t produce melanin and have white in lieu of their typical aegean coloration. Because the mutation only disrupts melanocytes, the chromatophores responsible for their orange and iridescent properties — erythrophores and iridophores — are still expressed. The continued production of light-reflecting and carotenoid pigments is what gives the seabream plesioth is distinctive white and reddish-orange look.

Venom

In total, the plesioth has 31 spines distributed across its body. They form part of the semifin, which occurs either in symmetric pairs, or along the medial region of the body. Although the semifins are superficially reminiscent of the ray-fins found in actinopterygians, they aren’t homologous. Semifins are classified into 6 categories according to body region, with the following spine distribution: 4 cranial, 8 pesudopercular, 7 dorsal, 4 tarsal, 4 subcaudal, and 4 supercaudal. The largest spines measure at 7’ 4” (2.2 meters) and are more than capable of penetrating the skin of the largest marine animals.

The primary structural element of the spines is cartilage, a supple and elastic tissue comprised of a dense network of collagen fibers embedded in a gelatinous ground substance. Its composition gives the spines tensile strength, enabling them to resist changes in weight and pressure while possessing greater flexibility than bone. Because cartilage is an aneural, avascular tissue, spines cannot be regrown if they’re damaged or removed. A protective integumentary sheath obstructs the opening of the spine. During envenomation, the sheath is pushed back as it enters the attacker. This process compresses the venom gland at the base of the spine, and allows the venom to diffuse into the puncture wound by travelling through shallow grooves in the now-exposed spine.

It’s thought that the semifins originally evolved as accessories for swimming, and that venom acquisition was a supplementary feature. The plesioth’s venom glands produce a subgroup of neurotoxins known as hypnotoxins, a soporific venom that depresses the central nervous system and affects the neurotransmitter gamma-aminobutyric acid (GABA) at the GABAA receptor. Its symptoms are much like the effects of anesthesia, and can be divided into the same 4 stages of the Guedel’s classification: induction, excitement, subconsciousness, and overdose. At Stage 1, the victim progresses from analgesia without amnesia to analgesia with amnesia. It’s entirely possible that the lack of pain — coupled with memory impairment — can lead to the victim’s inability to recall the initial sting and recognize that they are in danger. Stage 2, arguably the most dangerous, is when life-threatening conditions occur, such as delirium, arrhythmia, vomiting, respiratory distress, pupillary dilation, and spastic movements. Species that lack gills can quickly become disoriented after envenomation and drown as a consequence of the respiratory system becoming compromised (through pulmonary aspiration, apnea, et cetera). Stage 3 is the cessation of the previous symptoms and the onset of subconsciousness. Branchial predators become incapable of pursuing the plesioth, while air-breathing predators at this stage are all but 100% guaranteed to drown. Stage 4 is incredibly rare, and usually occurs if the spines puncture the victim for a long enough duration, or if multiple spines are involved in envenomation. Overdose results in brainstem or medullary depression, followed by complete respiratory and cardiovascular arrest. Without medical intervention this stage is always fatal.

Additional health risks posed by envenomation include: pieces of the spine breaking off and embedding themselves in the wound, leading to infection; and anaphylactic reactions to the venom.

Water-spitting

Before the plesioth’s phylogeny was properly understood, a common misconception was that P. coxa had gills and was descended from an unknown clade of branchial tetrapods. Its ability to spit a high-pressure jet of water from its mouth was likened to various species of archerfish. Later studies proved that the plesioth is a theropod, which made the archerfish’s mode of liquid projectile an impossibility as it involves contracting the opercula (gill covers). Dissection and field observations led to the discovery of paired sacs at the back of the mouth. Dubbed the paralingual glands, these poorly-understood organs can expel up to a quart (32 ounces) of liquid at once and possess just enough of the chemical for 10 discharges (2.5 gallons’ worth), before the glands have to produce a new supply over the next fortnight. The expulsion release is controlled by muscles behind the jaws. There is insufficient data as to what the liquid is composed of, but preliminary chemical analysis suggests a high presence of hydrogen and oxygen.

Diving adaptations

Even though the plesioth is most frequently observed inhabiting the photic layer (the uppermost layer of the pelagic zone, 0 m — 200 m), it can also be found within the mesopelagic layer (200 m — 450 m). At these depths, pressure can be greater than 40 times that of the surface. A combination of stressful deep-sea conditions such as high pressure and low oxygen can cause mechanical barotrauma. To eliminate the risks of physical damage like decompression sickness and organ rupture, the plesioth’s bones became depneumatized. The loss of postcranial air-sacs in the skeleton makes the plesioth denser and prevents embolisms (from buildups of dissolved N2) by decreasing the total air volume in the body. Similarly, the presence of air-filled pockets in the skeleton would have increased buoyancy, a trait that would have been disadvantageous to a diving animal.

Enhanced anaerobic capacity and hypoxemic tolerance are essential for facilitating long dives. When submerged at certain depths, the heart rate is reduced to as low as 20 — 30 bpm. Bradycardia occurs when the plesioth exceeds its aerobic dive limit (ADL), at which point tissue perfusion and oxygen uptake are decreased in order to preserve respiratory and blood oxygen stores. Non-essential organs are shut down and muscles are isolated from circulation, which together cut down on oxygen depletion and extend dives for as long as 40 minutes. Hemoglobin in plesioths shows high cooperativity with oxygen, a phenomenon whereby the binding of one molecule of oxygen with hemoglobin facilitates the binding of the next oxygen molecule and so on up to binding four oxygen molecules by one hemoglobin. The degree of cooperativity hemoglobin has is expressed by the Hill coefficient, which is estimated to be well above 4 in P. coxa. High cooperativity increases the efficiency of the oxygen delivery to tissues. Without these traits, the plesioth wouldn’t be able to withstand the extreme demands placed on its respiratory and circulatory systems that would otherwise result in unconsciousness.

To compensate for diminished olfaction and the mesopelagic layer’s low visibility, the plesioth has evolved powerful visual acuity. Its emmetropic eyes possess a flattened cornea that makes the cornea’s refractive power in air and the corneal power loss in water negligible. Roughly 10% of the eyes’ refractive power is contributed by the cornea, unlike in humans, which contribute up to 70%. Instead, the lens performs the majority of the focusing. This feature minimizes the optical effect of submergence. Sharp images above and underwater are formed by plesioths changing the shape of the lens through muscle contractions.

Behavior

Intraspecific interactions

Plesioths do not routinely seek out conspecifics outside of the breeding season. When plesioths do encounter others in the water they tend to ignore each other, though they demonstrate a remarkably high tolerance for each other’s presence. Socialization isn’t unheard of, however; plesioths may engage in cooperative hunting behavior if two or more are pursuing the same target. Juveniles and subadults will sometimes swim in small bands of three as an added precaution against predators.

Hunting and diet

The plesioth is a predominantly piscivorous animal, with 60% of its diet featuring a large diversity of fish species that are obligate shoalers. Despite this, they are not fastidious in their food choice and readily vary their prey selection according to availability, as evidenced by the remains of other animals found in their stomachs and fecal matter. Juveniles are restricted to hunting fish and other small vertebrates, and only begin to diversify their diet around the age of three. Mature adults are slightly more opportunistic, having the required size to take on larger non-fish prey items. A 30-kilo (66 lbs) meal can sustain a plesioth for up to 5 to 9 days before it is required to hunt again. Scavenging on carcasses isn’t overly common, nor is venturing inland to hunt. Plesioths only go after terrestrial prey when it’s near the water’s edge and within striking range. There are three generally-accepted hunting tactics employed by plesioths, with a slight skewing of preference between the subspecies: ambush-drowning, breaching, and tail-slapping.

The preferred method of taking down non-aquatic animals involves the plesioth motionlessly dwelling along the waterfront. The blue (P. c. coxa) and green (P. c. viridis) dorsal coloration is cryptic for each subspecies’ respective habitat. Concealment allows the plesioth to remain undetected long enough for it to ambush prey. Its conical, recurved teeth are suited for preventing prey from escaping once it seizes them in its jaws. The blinding speed with which it strikes gives the plesioth enough time to drag its prey into deeper water, where it then holds it beneath the surface until it succumbs to a combination of exhaustion, blood loss, and oxygen deprivation.

Breaching is a tactic reserved for animals such as epioths, ludroths, and seals, and is almost exclusively seen in P. c. coxa. The oil-back slams into prey from the deeper water below, with the momentum often taking it partially or fully clear of the water (achieving a max height of 10 meters). At speeds of 54 km/h, the g-force behind the impact is sufficient enough to fully stun prey.

The final hunting strategy is a tail-slap deployed either overhead or sideways. A kinematic study of plesioths attacking bait balls found that the tail-slap occurred with such force that it caused dissolved gas to diffuse out of the water column, forming small bubbles. Due to acceleration of waterflow around the leading edge of the tail, turbulent pressure drops below the saturated vapor pressure, causing the aforementioned plume of bubbles. The associated shockwave is powerful enough to immobilize as many as 20 fish in one tail-slap, which cuts down on the energy costs of hunting active prey.

The diet of P. c. coxa includes a wide array of aggregating fish such as pin tuna, speartuna, glutton tuna, Moga tuna (Katsuwonus katsuo), knife mackerels, wanchovies, sardines, and blue cutthroats. Oil-backed plesioths may sometimes take medium-sized sharks (most commonly Centrinis armatus). Epioths (Cetuserpens repandus and Pseudophis nitidus), immature ludroths (Harpaga leo), and island narwhals (Monodon mysticus) are hunted in deeper waters. Qurupecos (Cantio sirenius) that fish along the shore and passing aptonoths (Parasaurolophus cristatus) are known to have been attacked as well.

The diet of P. c. viridis contains a variety of freshwater and euryhaline fish such as gajuas (Palustincola ferox), fen catfish (Palustincola gravis), silverfish, red-finned arowanas (Osteoglossum esculentum), and burst arowanas (Osteoglossum authothysia). The green plesioth’s proximity to biodiverse terrestrial ecosystems allows it to feed on animals such as slagtoths, immature ludroths (Harpaga blattea), otters, bullfangos (Ossispina taurus), epioths (Pseudophis esmeraldus), congas (Flovorator altilis), and assorted frog species.

Enemies and competitors

Very few attacks made on the plesioth are successful, and are only perpetrated by a handful of species. The venom glands are active at birth and even juvenile plesioths are capable of delivering a potent sting to would-be attackers. Nevertheless, there have been a few documented cases of immature plesioths being killed and consumed by sharks and adult ludroths. The remains of adult plesioths found in the digestive systems of lagiacrus (Heres jormungandrii), pliosaurs, and large placoderms suggests that these predators are capable of hunting them. A counterargument often made in response is that these remains are not the result of active predation, but rather scavenging on the carcasses of plesioths either adrift in water or washed up on shore.

Resources such as nesting sites are highly competed for. The caves and abandoned cliff dwellings of Moga in particular are sought after by both P. c. coxa and H. leo. As a conflict-avoidant organism, plesioths go to extreme lengths to ward off predators and rivals through complex agonistic signaling such as wing-flapping and stomping. If these threat displays fail, the plesioth may discharge a warning shot with its paralingual glands. Plesioths will only retreat and abandon a nest if it’s unoccupied by eggs or chicks, or if there are a significant number of intruders. The culprits behind nest raids are immature royal ludroths and jaggis (Magnaraptor ebrius) for P. c. coxa, and immature purple ludroths and wroggis (Magnaraptor paluster) for P. c. viridis.

Attacks on hunters

To date, there is still a lack of consensus over whether or not attacks on humans, wyverians, and lynians are motivated by predatory intent. While there is evidence to suggest a correlation — as testified by shipwreck survivors that watched plesioths bite passengers in the water — it could be possible that the plesioths are drawn by the sounds of struggling, and are merely exploiting an otherwise unusual opportunity to feed. Outside of narrow circumstances like capsizes and founderings, plesioths don’t actively engage people. Most hostile encounters appear to be the result of provocation by people, whether intentional or accidental. Divers that were unaware of their surroundings ,or that deliberately approached the animal, either spooked it or provoked it into envenoming them with its flared semifins. Spear-fishers have reported accounts of theft, where an emboldened plesioth (typically a juvenile or subadult) stole fish off the end of the spear tip but didn’t try to attack the person holding the equipment. On average, there are 10 deaths associated with plesioths every year, with 8 being attributed to envenomation and 2 to bites. This number excludes fatalities of hunters under the employment of the Guild, whose careers necessitate engaging these animals for the sole intent of combat.

Immunologists studying the venom of P. coxa have dispelled the myth that injections in successively larger doses can achieve mithridatism.

Reproduction and life cycle

Each spring, male plesioths return to the area where they hatched as chicks to participate in a lek. These yearly aggregations commence the start of the breeding season, in which males vie for mates through courtship displays. As many as 25 to 30 individuals — each guarding a territory a few meters in size — occupy the lek mating arena, which consists of shallow cliffs and the adjacent water. Competition manifests in the form of elaborate diving and breaching rituals, meant to demonstrate fitness and overall health to the observing females. Preferential selection by the female results in the formation of monogamous pair-bonds that only last for the duration of the spring and summer. After copulation, the pair retreats to land where they scrape out a saucer-shaped depression in the ground. If the materials are available, plesioths may line the perimeter of the nest with debris, vegetation, stones, shells, or driftwood. A clutch can contain up to 4 eggs, which are monitored and incubated in shifts by both parents until they hatch around 26 days. The eggs are buff, cream, or brown, marked with streaks or blotches of brown or gray to camouflage them. Plesioths that are unable to secure a nest site beneath an overhang or within a cleft must contend with the heat. On hot days, the brooding parent may dive into the water to wet its body before returning to its eggs, thus regulating the temperature. The nest site is defended by the mate that isn’t preoccupied with tending to the eggs or hatchlings. Intruding conspecifics are usually chased off from individual nest sites, while wandering chicks are tolerated. All of the adults in the colony will collectively repel potential predators.

Hatchlings are altirical, and have minimal motor coordination and thermoregulatory capacity. Over the next 12 weeks they undergo rapid development while under the care of their parents. They are fed a protein-rich diet of fish and are presented with suitably-proportioned stones to swallow. These stones become the young plesioths’ first gastroliths, which serve as ballast. By the twelfth week, the chicks are developed enough to now accompany their parents on hunting expeditions. At the onset of autumn and the end of the breeding season, the mated pair departs, as do the now-independent offspring.

Health

Diseases and parasites

The plesioth is a host for epibionts and ectoparasites across multiple taxonomic divisions. Some organisms — like algae and barnacles — have a minimal impact on the wellbeing of the plesioth, and only inconvenience it by increasing hydrodynamic drag. Other organisms that anchor themselves to the plesioth’s body have measurably more harmful effects. Isopod larvae of the family Gnathiidae have serrated, piercing mouthparts, including a pair of toothed mandibles and maxillules, grooved paragnaths, and strong maxillipeds. They feed on blood and tissue fluids at the site of attachment, and are transmission vectors for protists of the phylum Apicomplexa (haemogregarines) which parasitize red blood cells. Sea lice cause abrasion-like lesions on the skin as a result of physical and enzymatic damage. Feeding on epidermal tissue and blood creates a generalized chronic stress response in the plesioth. Monogenean flatworms use attachment organs called haptors, which are specialized structures in the shape of hooks and clamps that adhere them to the host. Infestations on the skin can cause lethargy, infection, scale loss, and respiratory distress.

To rid itself of hitchhikers, the plesioth solicits help from fish at cleaning stations. In a cleaning symbiosis, cleaner fish gather in conspicuous areas and advertise their services through bright hues and stripes. Convergent patterns/colorations amongst different cleaner species reinforce their recognizability to clients, a phenomenon known as Müllerian mimicry. When the plesioth approaches one of these stations it opens its mouth and flares its semifins to signal that it needs cleaning. Wrasses, tangs, and neon gobies maintain the health of the plesioth by removing dead flesh and parasites from its skin, nostrils, and mouth. The relationship is a mutualistic service in that the cleaners are provided a free meal without the threat of predation from the client, and the client is ridden of ectoparasites.

Outside of these accepted congregation sites plesioths have to rely on other means for treating their parasites. Remoras and pilot fish can usually be found in the company of P. coxa. In the case of the former, they are suctioned onto its body by a modified dorsal fin comprised of slat-like flexible membranes. Both groups of fish associate themselves with plesioths for not only protection from other predators, but for the particulate matter left over from the plesioth’s meals, and its nutrient-rich feces. In exchange for tolerating the presence of both species, the plesioth benefits from the removal of ectoparasite and loose flakes of skin.

Distribution and habitat

Plesioths are a common sight in the waters of the Moga Archipelago. The abandoned ruins that sculpt the cliffs are prime nesting grounds for them. The leeward side of the Deserted Island (the largest isle in the chain) is sheltered from the prevailing wind by the area’s elevation, making the ruins above the alcoves and beaches comfortably dry. The islands’ coral reefs and sunken ships teem with prey capable of supporting large numbers of plesioths. The nearby island of Tanzia is similarly rife with the habitats and resources needed to support them, but strangely, plesioths avoid the waters outside of the harbor. It’s thought that the hydrothermal vents and geothermal activity in the Tainted Sea exceed P. coxa’s temperature threshold. Other well-known plesioth congregation sites include Cheeko Sands and Sunsnug Isle.

A popular rumor that continues to circulate (much to the chagrin of the International Hunters’ Guild) is that there exists a colony of oil-backed plesioths in the Dede Desert. Allegedly cut off from the ocean by an isolated river system, these plesioths are believed to have acclimated to the biological, geological, and meteorological properties of their new environment. To date, no evidence exists of plesioths managing to venture upriver and permanently establish a colony there. More than likely the idea was proposed by travelers that were hallucinating as a result of heat exhaustion and dehydration. It’s possible that what looked like a plesioth lifting its head above the water was actually a piece of debris or a branch, making its origins a case of mistaken identity. Another more credible theory is that a cephadrome was somehow mistaken for a plesioth. Despite assurances from the scientific community that a plesioth couldn’t travel hundreds of miles from the sea and survive in a desert climate, dozens of undeterred hunters and explorers make the dangerous expedition each year in search of proof.

#monster hunter #monster hunter thought dump #plesioth #zoology #the hunter's encyclopedia of animals #speculative biology #my posts #i speak #mh dossier

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everythingbychoice · 5 years

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The art of studying and identifying animal tracks is a practice that dates back to ancient times when humans relied on hunting and gathering for survival. The practice is used today by hunters, hobbyists, and professionals to monitor animal migration patterns, track endangered species, and better understand local wildlife. Tracks are found in a variety of places and identifying them is most easily done through a process of elimination. While the process can feel overwhelming at first, a little ingenuity, research, and interpretive skills are all you need to be on your way to easily identifying tracks in no time.[1]

EditSteps

EditSpotting Mammal Tracks

Count the toes. Note how many are on both the front and hind feet. Felines, canines, and rabbits all have 4 toes, while smaller animals like mice have 4 toes on the front foot and 5 on the hind. Knowing the basics about toes can help you eliminate many wrong possibilities right away.[2]

Observe the shape of the toes and note if they are long or rounded.

Always check other tracks in the same area to confirm your findings. It’s common to get an animal's hind foot mixed-up with its front foot, so studying the other tracks will help you verify what you’re seeing.[3]

Look for claws. If you can see claws in the track, take note of the size and shape. Some are large and blunt while others are thin and sharp. Noting the claw size will help in the process of elimination.[4]

Animals that climb tend to have small claws and animals that dig have large blunt ones.[5]

Check if the track is symmetrical. Picture a line down the center of the track and compare the right and left sides. Typically, hooves are very symmetrical while other types of tracks are not.[6]

For instance, bears have huge, asymmetrical tracks with 5 toes. The front tracks are smaller than the hind tracks.

Identify canine tracks by their oval shape and 4 toe prints. Canine tracks also point forward, have a concave heel pad, and visible claws. The front paws are larger than the hind paws.[7]

Wolves have the largest canine tracks at long.

Coyote prints are smaller and narrower—about .

Fox prints are fuzzier due to the hair in the paws and measure around .

Domestic dog prints are similar in size and shape to wolf and coyote tracks. However, dog prints will zig-zag more than wild animal prints, which tend to follow a straight line.

Recognize feline tracks by their rounded “M” shape. The 3-lobed heel pads on felines look similar to a bubble letter “M.” Feline tracks have 4 toes and are about as wide as they are long. Typically, you won’t see claws on feline tracks.[8]

Mountain lion (or cougar) tracks are the largest feline tracks, measuring at about long and wide.

Lynx tracks look very similar to mountain lion tracks and are about the same size. However, they are less defined because of the fur around the paws of a lynx.

Bobcat tracks look similar to that of a coyote or fox, but are rounder and lack claw marks. They are about long and wide.

House cat prints are pretty small——and generally don’t follow the straight paths that wild animals do.

Identify small mammals by their 5-toed prints. Many of the smaller mammals, with the exception of rabbits, have 5 toes. They range in size from .[9]

Some people think raccoon prints look like baby hands, so if you see a track that looks human-like, it could belong to a raccoon. Both prints have 5 toes, but the front ones are smaller than the back ones.

Opossum tracks are quite similar to raccoon tracks. However, the tracks of their hind feet clearly show their opposable thumbs.

Otter tracks are wider and are most often found on muddy river banks. Otters have partially webbed feet and short claws.

The front and hind feet of a skunk are the same size, unlike many other mammals. They have 5 toes and visible claws.

Rabbits stagger their feet, leading to Y-shaped tracks. Unlike the other animals in this group, rabbits do not have 5 toes.

Spot hoof tracks by their distinct 2-toed shape. Hooves are generally symmetrical. Depending on the animal, the tracks may be round, heart-shaped, or square.

Moose have the largest prints at . They are heart-shaped, deep, and sometimes show claw marks.

Bison have round prints that are wider than other animals. Typically, they’re long.

Elk tracks look similar to moose tracks but are smaller—about . They also have rounder toes that are not as tapered at the tips.

Deer tracks show 2 distinct toes and a small dot shape underneath each toe. They’re slightly angled away from each other and measure about .

Bighorn sheep tracks look like deer tracks but are smaller and less pointed. They have a blockier shape and straighter edges.

Wild boar tracks also look similar to deer tracks. They’re about the same size but have rounder, wider toes. The dew claw is also present in their prints.

Mountain goat tracks are V-shaped and much smaller than hooved animals like elk or deer.

Recognize that rodent prints have 4 toes in the front and 5 in the back. Each rodent has a distinct track, and the one thing they have in common is the number of toes on each foot.[10]

Beavers have webbed feet. Look for beaver tracks near rivers. The tracks from their back feet often cover up their front feet, and their tail can remove any trace of either!

Porcupine prints often show only the pads of their feet and they are pigeon-toed, so the tracks point inward. Sometimes, you can see an impression of their tail along with their prints.

Mice have bigger back feet than front feet. Their tracks show 4 tiny feet and sometimes a tail drag.

Squirrel tracks also show 4 prints. Their back feet are around and their front feet are . Squirrels tend to hop and move from tree to tree.

EditIdentifying Bird Tracks

Take note of the habitat where the tracks are found. Birds tend to live in specific habitats depending on their particular needs. Ducks will often be found near water, perching birds generally stay near wooded areas, and gaming birds like open spaces. Study the area around the bird tracks to help narrow down the possibilities.[11]

Since bird tracks look so similar, the best way to figure out which bird the prints belong to is to assess the habitat and find out which species frequent the area.

See if the tracks alternate or are in pairs. Birds that live primarily on the ground, like turkeys, have alternating tracks. Conversely, tree-dwelling birds, including crows, leave pairs of prints because they hop on the ground.[12]

Identify classic tracks by their Y-shape. Classic tracks (also known as anisodactyl) have 3 toes pointing forward and 1 long toe pointing backward. The most common birds in this category are doves, ravens, egrets, hawks, crows, grouse, and perching birds.[13]

Spot game bird tracks by their 3 distinct toes. Game bird tracks are similar to classic bird tracks, with the exception that the hind toe is smaller or non-existent. This group includes birds like quails, turkeys, cranes, and sandpipers.[14]

Recognize webbed tracks by their wide shape. Webbed (or palmate) tracks have forward facing toes that are webbed and outer toes that curve slightly inward. The most common birds in this category are ducks, geese, and gulls.[15]

Totipalm tracks have webbing between all 4 toes. These tracks usually belong to pelicans and other ocean-dwelling birds.

Identify zygodactyl tracks by their 4 toes. Zygodactyl tracks have 2 toes that point forward and 2 that point backward. A slightly less common track, these belong to roadrunners, cuckoos, owls, and woodpeckers.[16]

EditIdentifying Reptile and Amphibian Tracks

Note the size of the tracks. While lizards typically leave behind the same type of track, size can vary significantly depending on the specific species. Measuring the length and width then reference various lizard sizes if you believe you’ve found reptile tracks.

Determine if the tracks are inland or near water. Depending on the type of reptile, understanding the location of the track will help you make determinations. Some reptiles like iguanas prefer dry areas and others like alligators will usually be found near water.

Spot alligator tracks by their 5 toes. Alligator tracks are rarely mistaken for any other tracks—you can see 5 toes in the front tracks and 4 in the hind tracks. They will also have a scaled appearance. These tracks are much larger than those of most other reptiles.[17]

The tail of the alligator leaves a large trough between its prints.

Recognize lizard and salamander tracks from their tail drags. Lizard and salamander tracks are generally identified more easily from their tail drags than footprints. Their tails leave distinct lines and will often be accompanied with blurry foot marks on each side.[18]

Salamander tail tracks move from side to side while lizard tail tracks are much straighter.

Note that snake tracks look like smudges. Since snakes don’t have feet, they don’t leave tracks in the way that other animals do. You may see slight smudges or continual S-shaped prints in the sand or dirt.[19]

Identify turtle tracks by their continuous line. Turtles take steps that are very close together, resulting in a continuous line of tracks on each side of their body. They look sort of like tank treads and have large claw marks and 5 toes on both feet. [20]

Sometimes, only 4 toes are visible in the hind prints.

Spot frog and toad tracks by their “K” shape. Both animals have 4 toes in the front and 5 in the back. Often, the front feet land between the back feet. Sometimes, you’ll be able to see the frog or toad’s belly impression in the tracks as well.[21]

EditTips

Using a reference guide is the easiest way to identify animal tracks. Search for one online that lists identifying features and contains photographs of tracks from various animals found in your region.[22]

Familiarizing yourself with the species that are native to your area can be a big help when you need to identify animal tracks. This will help narrow down the number of possibilities and often help you make a quicker determination. [23]

Measuring the tracks can help you determine which animal they belong to. Keep a flexible measuring tape in your pocket or pack to help with identification.[24]

EditRelated wikiHows

Track Animals

EditReferences

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#EverythingByChoice

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readbookywooks · 7 years

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The Indian Ocean

NOW WE BEGIN the second part of this voyage under the seas. The first ended in that moving scene at the coral cemetery, which left a profound impression on my mind. And so Captain Nemo would live out his life entirely in the heart of this immense sea, and even his grave lay ready in its impenetrable depths. There the last sleep of the Nautilus's occupants, friends bound together in death as in life, would be disturbed by no monster of the deep! "No man either!" the captain had added. Always that same fierce, implacable defiance of human society! As for me, I was no longer content with the hypotheses that satisfied Conseil. That fine lad persisted in seeing the Nautilus's commander as merely one of those unappreciated scientists who repay humanity's indifference with contempt. For Conseil, the captain was still a misunderstood genius who, tired of the world's deceptions, had been driven to take refuge in this inaccessible environment where he was free to follow his instincts. But to my mind, this hypothesis explained only one side of Captain Nemo. In fact, the mystery of that last afternoon when we were locked in prison and put to sleep, the captain's violent precaution of snatching from my grasp a spyglass poised to scour the horizon, and the fatal wound given that man during some unexplained collision suffered by the Nautilus, all led me down a plain trail. No! Captain Nemo wasn't content simply to avoid humanity! His fearsome submersible served not only his quest for freedom, but also, perhaps, it was used in lord-knows-what schemes of dreadful revenge. Right now, nothing is clear to me, I still glimpse only glimmers in the dark, and I must limit my pen, as it were, to taking dictation from events. But nothing binds us to Captain Nemo. He believes that escaping from the Nautilus is impossible. We are not even constrained by our word of honor. No promises fetter us. We're simply captives, prisoners masquerading under the name "guests" for the sake of everyday courtesy. Even so, Ned Land hasn't given up all hope of recovering his freedom. He's sure to take advantage of the first chance that comes his way. No doubt I will do likewise. And yet I will feel some regret at making off with the Nautilus's secrets, so generously unveiled for us by Captain Nemo! Because, ultimately, should we detest or admire this man? Is he the persecutor or the persecuted? And in all honesty, before I leave him forever, I want to finish this underwater tour of the world, whose first stages have been so magnificent. I want to observe the full series of these wonders gathered under the seas of our globe. I want to see what no man has seen yet, even if I must pay for this insatiable curiosity with my life! What are my discoveries to date? Nothing, relatively speaking-since so far we've covered only 6,000 leagues across the Pacific! Nevertheless, I'm well aware that the Nautilus is drawing near to populated shores, and if some chance for salvation becomes available to us, it would be sheer cruelty to sacrifice my companions to my passion for the unknown. I must go with them, perhaps even guide them. But will this opportunity ever arise? The human being, robbed of his free will, craves such an opportunity; but the scientist, forever inquisitive, dreads it. That day, January 21, 1868, the chief officer went at noon to take the sun's altitude. I climbed onto the platform, lit a cigar, and watched him at work. It seemed obvious to me that this man didn't understand French, because I made several remarks in a loud voice that were bound to provoke him to some involuntary show of interest had he understood them; but he remained mute and emotionless. While he took his sights with his sextant, one of the Nautilus's sailors-that muscular man who had gone with us to Crespo Island during our first underwater excursion - came up to clean the glass panes of the beacon. I then examined the fittings of this mechanism, whose power was increased a hundredfold by biconvex lenses that were designed like those in a lighthouse and kept its rays productively focused. This electric lamp was so constructed as to yield its maximum illuminating power. In essence, its light was generated in a vacuum, insuring both its steadiness and intensity. Such a vacuum also reduced wear on the graphite points between which the luminous arc expanded. This was an important savings for Captain Nemo, who couldn't easily renew them. But under these conditions, wear and tear were almost nonexistent. When the Nautilus was ready to resume its underwater travels, I went below again to the lounge. The hatches closed once more, and our course was set due west. We then plowed the waves of the Indian Ocean, vast liquid plains with an area of 550,000,000 hectares, whose waters are so transparent it makes you dizzy to lean over their surface. There the Nautilus generally drifted at a depth between 100 and 200 meters. It behaved in this way for some days. To anyone without my grand passion for the sea, these hours would surely have seemed long and monotonous; but my daily strolls on the platform where I was revived by the life-giving ocean air, the sights in the rich waters beyond the lounge windows, the books to be read in the library, and the composition of my memoirs, took up all my time and left me without a moment of weariness or boredom. All in all, we enjoyed a highly satisfactory state of health. The diet on board agreed with us perfectly, and for my part, I could easily have gone without those changes of pace that Ned Land, in a spirit of protest, kept taxing his ingenuity to supply us. What's more, in this constant temperature we didn't even have to worry about catching colds. Besides, the ship had a good stock of the madrepore Dendrophylia, known in Provence by the name sea fennel, and a poultice made from the dissolved flesh of its polyps will furnish an excellent cough medicine. For some days we saw a large number of aquatic birds with webbed feet, known as gulls or sea mews. Some were skillfully slain, and when cooked in a certain fashion, they make a very acceptable platter of water game. Among the great wind riders - carried over long distances from every shore and resting on the waves from their exhausting flights-I spotted some magnificent albatross, birds belonging to the Longipennes (long-winged) family, whose discordant calls sound like the braying of an ass. The Totipalmes (fully webbed) family was represented by swift frigate birds, nimbly catching fish at the surface, and by numerous tropic birds of the genus Phaeton, among others the red-tailed tropic bird, the size of a pigeon, its white plumage shaded with pink tints that contrasted with its dark-hued wings. The Nautilus's nets hauled up several types of sea turtle from the hawksbill genus with arching backs whose scales are highly prized. Diving easily, these reptiles can remain a good while underwater by closing the fleshy valves located at the external openings of their nasal passages. When they were captured, some hawksbills were still asleep inside their carapaces, a refuge from other marine animals. The flesh of these turtles was nothing memorable, but their eggs made an excellent feast. As for fish, they always filled us with wonderment when, staring through the open panels, we could unveil the secrets of their aquatic lives. I noted several species I hadn't previously been able to observe. I'll mention chiefly some trunkfish unique to the Red Sea, the sea of the East Indies, and that part of the ocean washing the coasts of equinoctial America. Like turtles, armadillos, sea urchins, and crustaceans, these fish are protected by armor plate that's neither chalky nor stony but actual bone. Sometimes this armor takes the shape of a solid triangle, sometimes that of a solid quadrangle. Among the triangular type, I noticed some half a decimeter long, with brown tails, yellow fins, and wholesome, exquisitely tasty flesh; I even recommend that they be acclimatized to fresh water, a change, incidentally, that a number of saltwater fish can make with ease. I'll also mention some quadrangular trunkfish topped by four large protuberances along the back; trunkfish sprinkled with white spots on the underside of the body, which make good house pets like certain birds; boxfish armed with stings formed by extensions of their bony crusts, and whose odd grunting has earned them the nickname "sea pigs"; then some trunkfish known as dromedaries, with tough, leathery flesh and big conical humps. From the daily notes kept by Mr. Conseil, I also retrieve certain fish from the genus Tetradon unique to these seas: southern puffers with red backs and white chests distinguished by three lengthwise rows of filaments, and jugfish, seven inches long, decked out in the brightest colors. Then, as specimens of other genera, blowfish resembling a dark brown egg, furrowed with white bands, and lacking tails; globefish, genuine porcupines of the sea, armed with stings and able to inflate themselves until they look like a pin cushion bristling with needles; seahorses common to every ocean; flying dragonfish with long snouts and highly distended pectoral fins shaped like wings, which enable them, if not to fly, at least to spring into the air; spatula-shaped paddlefish whose tails are covered with many scaly rings; snipefish with long jaws, excellent animals twenty-five centimeters long and gleaming with the most cheerful colors; bluish gray dragonets with wrinkled heads; myriads of leaping blennies with black stripes and long pectoral fins, gliding over the surface of the water with prodigious speed; delicious sailfish that can hoist their fins in a favorable current like so many unfurled sails; splendid nurseryfish on which nature has lavished yellow, azure, silver, and gold; yellow mackerel with wings made of filaments; bullheads forever spattered with mud, which make distinct hissing sounds; sea robins whose livers are thought to be poisonous; ladyfish that can flutter their eyelids; finally, archerfish with long, tubular snouts, real oceangoing flycatchers, armed with a rifle unforeseen by either Remington or Chassepot: it slays insects by shooting them with a simple drop of water. From the eighty-ninth fish genus in Lacepede's system of classification, belonging to his second subclass of bony fish (characterized by gill covers and a bronchial membrane), I noted some scorpionfish whose heads are adorned with stings and which have only one dorsal fin; these animals are covered with small scales, or have none at all, depending on the subgenus to which they belong. The second subgenus gave us some Didactylus specimens three to four decimeters long, streaked with yellow, their heads having a phantasmagoric appearance. As for the first subgenus, it furnished several specimens of that bizarre fish aptly nicknamed "toadfish," whose big head is sometimes gouged with deep cavities, sometimes swollen with protuberances; bristling with stings and strewn with nodules, it sports hideously irregular horns; its body and tail are adorned with callosities; its stings can inflict dangerous injuries; it's repulsive and horrible. From January 21 to the 23rd, the Nautilus traveled at the rate of 250 leagues in twenty-four hours, hence 540 miles at twenty-two miles per hour. If, during our trip, we were able to identify these different varieties of fish, it's because they were attracted by our electric light and tried to follow alongside; but most of them were outdistanced by our speed and soon fell behind; temporarily, however, a few managed to keep pace in the Nautilus's waters. On the morning of the 24th, in latitude 12 degrees 5' south and longitude 94 degrees 33', we raised Keeling Island, a madreporic upheaving planted with magnificent coconut trees, which had been visited by Mr. Darwin and Captain Fitzroy. The Nautilus cruised along a short distance off the shore of this desert island. Our dragnets brought up many specimens of polyps and echinoderms plus some unusual shells from the branch Mollusca. Captain Nemo's treasures were enhanced by some valuable exhibits from the delphinula snail species, to which I joined some pointed star coral, a sort of parasitic polypary that often attaches itself to seashells. Soon Keeling Island disappeared below the horizon, and our course was set to the northwest, toward the tip of the Indian peninsula. "Civilization!" Ned Land told me that day. "Much better than those Papuan Islands where we ran into more savages than venison! On this Indian shore, professor, there are roads and railways, English, French, and Hindu villages. We wouldn't go five miles without bumping into a fellow countryman. Come on now, isn't it time for our sudden departure from Captain Nemo?" "No, no, Ned," I replied in a very firm tone. "Let's ride it out, as you seafaring fellows say. The Nautilus is approaching populated areas. It's going back toward Europe, let it take us there. After we arrive in home waters, we can do as we see fit. Besides, I don't imagine Captain Nemo will let us go hunting on the coasts of Malabar or Coromandel as he did in the forests of New Guinea." "Well, sir, can't we manage without his permission?" I didn't answer the Canadian. I wanted no arguments. Deep down, I was determined to fully exploit the good fortune that had put me on board the Nautilus. After leaving Keeling Island, our pace got generally slower. It also got more unpredictable, often taking us to great depths. Several times we used our slanting fins, which internal levers could set at an oblique angle to our waterline. Thus we went as deep as two or three kilometers down but without ever verifying the lowest depths of this sea near India, which soundings of 13,000 meters have been unable to reach. As for the temperature in these lower strata, the thermometer always and invariably indicated 4 degrees centigrade. I merely observed that in the upper layers, the water was always colder over shallows than in the open sea. On January 25, the ocean being completely deserted, the Nautilus spent the day on the surface, churning the waves with its powerful propeller and making them spurt to great heights. Under these conditions, who wouldn't have mistaken it for a gigantic cetacean? I spent three-quarters of the day on the platform. I stared at the sea. Nothing on the horizon, except near four o'clock in the afternoon a long steamer to the west, running on our opposite tack. Its masting was visible for an instant, but it couldn't have seen the Nautilus because we were lying too low in the water. I imagine that steamboat belonged to the Peninsular & Oriental line, which provides service from the island of Ceylon to Sidney, also calling at King George Sound and Melbourne. At five o'clock in the afternoon, just before that brief twilight that links day with night in tropical zones, Conseil and I marveled at an unusual sight. It was a delightful animal whose discovery, according to the ancients, is a sign of good luck. Aristotle, Athenaeus, Pliny, and Oppian studied its habits and lavished on its behalf all the scientific poetry of Greece and Italy. They called it "nautilus" and "pompilius." But modern science has not endorsed these designations, and this mollusk is now known by the name argonaut. Anyone consulting Conseil would soon learn from the gallant lad that the branch Mollusca is divided into five classes; that the first class features the Cephalopoda (whose members are sometimes naked, sometimes covered with a shell), which consists of two families, the Dibranchiata and the Tetrabranchiata, which are distinguished by their number of gills; that the family Dibranchiata includes three genera, the argonaut, the squid, and the cuttlefish, and that the family Tetrabranchiata contains only one genus, the nautilus. After this catalog, if some recalcitrant listener confuses the argonaut, which is acetabuliferous (in other words, a bearer of suction tubes), with the nautilus, which is tentaculiferous (a bearer of tentacles), it will be simply unforgivable. Now, it was a school of argonauts then voyaging on the surface of the ocean. We could count several hundred of them. They belonged to that species of argonaut covered with protuberances and exclusive to the seas near India. These graceful mollusks were swimming backward by means of their locomotive tubes, sucking water into these tubes and then expelling it. Six of their eight tentacles were long, thin, and floated on the water, while the other two were rounded into palms and spread to the wind like light sails. I could see perfectly their undulating, spiral-shaped shells, which Cuvier aptly compared to an elegant cockleboat. It's an actual boat indeed. It transports the animal that secretes it without the animal sticking to it. "The argonaut is free to leave its shell," I told Conseil, "but it never does." "Not unlike Captain Nemo," Conseil replied sagely. "Which is why he should have christened his ship the Argonaut." For about an hour the Nautilus cruised in the midst of this school of mollusks. Then, lord knows why, they were gripped with a sudden fear. As if at a signal, every sail was abruptly lowered; arms folded, bodies contracted, shells turned over by changing their center of gravity, and the whole flotilla disappeared under the waves. It was instantaneous, and no squadron of ships ever maneuvered with greater togetherness. Just then night fell suddenly, and the waves barely surged in the breeze, spreading placidly around the Nautilus's side plates. The next day, January 26, we cut the equator on the 82nd meridian and we reentered the northern hemisphere. During that day a fearsome school of sharks provided us with an escort. Dreadful animals that teem in these seas and make them extremely dangerous. There were Port Jackson sharks with a brown back, a whitish belly, and eleven rows of teeth, bigeye sharks with necks marked by a large black spot encircled in white and resembling an eye, and Isabella sharks whose rounded snouts were strewn with dark speckles. Often these powerful animals rushed at the lounge window with a violence less than comforting. By this point Ned Land had lost all self-control. He wanted to rise to the surface of the waves and harpoon the monsters, especially certain smooth-hound sharks whose mouths were paved with teeth arranged like a mosaic, and some big five-meter tiger sharks that insisted on personally provoking him. But the Nautilus soon picked up speed and easily left astern the fastest of these man-eaters. On January 27, at the entrance to the huge Bay of Bengal, we repeatedly encountered a gruesome sight: human corpses floating on the surface of the waves! Carried by the Ganges to the high seas, these were deceased Indian villagers who hadn't been fully devoured by vultures, the only morticians in these parts. But there was no shortage of sharks to assist them with their undertaking chores. Near seven o'clock in the evening, the Nautilus lay half submerged, navigating in the midst of milky white waves. As far as the eye could see, the ocean seemed lactified. Was it an effect of the moon's rays? No, because the new moon was barely two days old and was still lost below the horizon in the sun's rays. The entire sky, although lit up by stellar radiation, seemed pitch-black in comparison with the whiteness of these waters. Conseil couldn't believe his eyes, and he questioned me about the causes of this odd phenomenon. Luckily I was in a position to answer him. "That's called a milk sea," I told him, "a vast expanse of white waves often seen along the coasts of Amboina and in these waterways." "But," Conseil asked, "could master tell me the cause of this effect, because I presume this water hasn't really changed into milk!" "No, my boy, and this whiteness that amazes you is merely due to the presence of myriads of tiny creatures called infusoria, a sort of diminutive glowworm that's colorless and gelatinous in appearance, as thick as a strand of hair, and no longer than one-fifth of a millimeter. Some of these tiny creatures stick together over an area of several leagues." "Several leagues!" Conseil exclaimed. "Yes, my boy, and don't even try to compute the number of these infusoria. You won't pull it off, because if I'm not mistaken, certain navigators have cruised through milk seas for more than forty miles." I'm not sure that Conseil heeded my recommendation, because he seemed to be deep in thought, no doubt trying to calculate how many one-fifths of a millimeter are found in forty square miles. As for me, I continued to observe this phenomenon. For several hours the Nautilus's spur sliced through these whitish waves, and I watched it glide noiselessly over this soapy water, as if it were cruising through those foaming eddies that a bay's currents and countercurrents sometimes leave between each other. Near midnight the sea suddenly resumed its usual hue, but behind us all the way to the horizon, the skies kept mirroring the whiteness of those waves and for a good while seemed imbued with the hazy glow of an aurora borealis.

#20000Leagues

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the-lexicographer · 8 years

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Word of the Day

Totipalmate, adj. /toh-tuh-pal-meyt/ - Completely webbed; having all the toes entirely webbed, as certain birds.

Source: The Winston Dictionary - College Edition, 1945

#Totipalmate #T

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