FISH LANGUAGE.

Modern science makes progress in giant steps. Not a day goes by without some extravagant discovery that puts our convictions in peril.

For example, not all that long ago, it was normal to assert that all Carps were mute. Anyone who considered the contrary was thought to be a moron.

Today it suffices to plunge a sufficiently sophisticated and powerful microphone into our rivers, our lakes or our oceans and be thunderstruck by the racket that reigns.

It is not the noise of chains, snoring, or rumbling, not crackling or syncopated whistles. Simply, they are the cries of hunger, signals of alarm, military marches and love songs of the fish.

Of course dear readers, it is understood that they don’t speak the french of Bossuet and they don’t perform the classical tragedies, but in their fashion they speak (confirmed by the master of us all, Alexander Vialatte).

The Gurnard for example, roars like a lion when put before a microphone. He even forecasts storms and the fishermen listen, for he is more accurate than the weather forecasters.

And the Oyster fish roars even louder than him. Let’s say it’s like two lions, like three lions. He lives in the coasts of Central America. He is 25 centimeters long.

Let us not forget that also man can imitate the lion’s roar by blowing into a kerosene lantern. It’s a talent that could well serve as after-dinner entertainment.

The Sailor fish can whistle like any sailor. The Pistol shrimp is even louder and it’s only 5 centimeters long. As for the Caw fish of Chesapeake Bay, who can explode bombs of the American Navy, they are at least 300 million who resonate their rhythmic “bub-bub-bub” at the moment of amorous ecstasy.

The fish of the tropics have a greater vocabulary than the fish of northern seas.

The Codfish has a concise manner. The Herring however, “chirps”. Or at least that is what the scientists claim. I tried it with a smoked herring (hiding from the cleaning lady), he didn’t have anything interesting to say. And what’s more he really knows things! The depths of the ocean, the aurora borealis, the ice floes, eskimos, the sadness at the end of the month in the household of artists where he is on the menu from the 12th on.

The Sailor fish whistles at his sweetheart like a rascal. The Anemone fish scares his competitors with sounds that are “threatening and martial”.

The Siamese fighting fish (Betta splendens) in Indochina, calls to it’s vagabond children simply by wriggling the skin of its belly.

The voice of fish becomes more and more deep with age, as with men, except for that of the trout which always remains a soprano.

One is entirely overwhelmed by such marvels of nature.

I could continue to educate you like this for pages and pages, but my editor won’t permit it; but that’s a touchy subject, let’s not go there.

Ah, if le Mouching wasn’t there to educate the masses, this planet would only be an ugly, vulgar rat hole.