Last week, we searched into the realm of the spineless Arthropods for myths and legends which are, well, untrue in part or in whole. But can some myths be found  beneath the waters, in the realm of those scaly beings called fish? The first which comes to mind is beliefs which surround the Great White Shark. Most, from movies such as Jaws, have the impression that these sharks are revengeful, bloodthirsty killers. Of course, being predators, they must kill to eat, but they do not purposefully go out of their way to kill humans specifically. In fact, studies show that most humans attacked by Great White Sharks are released. The numbers of this shark, though, have caused it to be classified as vulnerable to extinction because of sports fishing. Another myth, due to a misnomer, is that an Electric Eel is exactly what it is called: an eel. Actually, it is part of an order of eel-like fishes called knifefishes. Also, the Electric Eel does not only use its electricity in self-defence, but also as a type of sonar to make up for its poor vision. Most people are familiar with the parasitic instincts of lamprey, but not all lampreys are parasites. There are two species which are free living, one of which is the Greek Brook Lamprey. When young, these lampreys feed on invertebrates and detritus like all young lampreys, but when they are grown, they do not eat at all. Now, let us hop into some generalizations. We have been taught that fish have scales. Yes, most do, but definitely not all. Some scaless species include lampreys, many rays and skates, chimaeras, most eels, most catfish, dragonfish as well as others. Also, by the collective name “fish” and their similar appearances, there is a belief that fish are a group of animals classified on their own, separate from other creatures with backbones. This, actually, is not the case. The broadest group in which fishes are classified is the Phylum Chordata which contains all animals with backbones. Then, they are divided into three classes who’s relation to one another is small. Lastly, hagfish are not fish at all. They used to be classified with jawless fish ( lampreys) but are how in the class Myxini in one of the subphyla which contains invertebrate chordates. The name may seem rather paradoxical, but it is given because these animals have a rod in their bodies called a notochord, which serves the same function as a spine.

Myths are in this case facts which are untrue. They arise from a false perceptions of beings and objects which surround us. And, of course, the animal kingdom is brimming full with such myths. Let us begin with the Arthropods, the spineless creatures. One common misconception is that all insects are bugs. Though we use the term interchangeably, it is misleading. Not all insects are bugs, yet all bugs are insects. True bugs can be distinguished from other insects by an X pattern  which is often on the shell and by some research on those which are more difficult to identify. Bugs are classified inthe order Hemiptera where you can find Aphids, Whiteflies, Froghoppers, Bedbugs, Scale Insects, Cicadas, Pond Skater, and Stinkbugs among others. In the order of beetles, a belief that the number of spots on a ladybug show the age of the beetle. In fact, the spots only  distinguish species, not age. One species, can have a variation from  0-22 spots on its shell, and this is the Asian Lady Beetle. Another beetle, because of its name, might very well be mistaken for a fly. These are Fireflies, also known as Lightening-bugs, and use organs on their bellies to cause the light. In a similar case, another creature commonly known as the “ glowworm” is actually the larva of a fungus gnat. Talking about worms, have you ever noticed how,when after it has rained, there are earthworms scattered everywhere? Some have conclude from this fact that earthworms rain down from the skies, but it is actually the result of the water flushing the worms from their burrows. Another widespread belief is that  all wasps and bees are social. This, too, is inaccurate, for there are more than 11 solitary families in their order. Finally, there is one fable which seems to have gained much ground, and that is that all tarantulas are venomous. This belief is due to their size. In fact, is true, but only in a few species, which are rather smaller in size compared to the others of this group. And so, there we have our myths concerning arthropods, from bugs to beetles, worms to spiders. But I am sure there are far more, not only in the world of insects but that of other animals as well.

Based on true events

I had recently written my article about Elisa, the little, kind girl who saved a snail, when I   bought my new pets. They cost slightly under a dollar, these new companions, and I had  purchased them in hopes to hear their song. But when I brought them home, they sang not, though one seemed to like the sound of a tinwhistle which I played. Soon, though, these couple of pets dwindled into one, and it was about that time that I named the survivor: Elisa. She was a cricket, a female cricket and therefore did not sing. Her companion was of the same sex and species but sickly. Hardly had the latter passed an hour in their container in my room when she fell upon  her back and died. The following scene touched me to the heart. Never had I expected a mere insect to act in this way, but Elisa was bound to tenderly astonish me. As soon as her friend fell, she scrambled over to her and stood motionless in a vigil over the still body. I found her in the morning still near her fallen comrade like a true mourner. At length, I removed the dead cricket and then turned my mind to discovering Elisa’s food preferences. She seemingly had left the lettuce and watermelon  untouched in her container, and I was unsure as to what else she would possibly eat. So, I did some research in my numerous wildlife books, and in one I read that crickets eat grain as well as fruits and other various food matter. Now, my family had no crop of grain, but we had the next best thing: mixed bird seed. The result? In a few minutes, Elisa was surrounded by a sprinkling of various types of bird seed. Lo and behold! When I later took a peek at my cricket, I noted that certain grain had had a hole bored into it. My experiment was successful! So, in that fashion, I discovered how to feed her. During the same day and during those which followed, I began to form a higher opinion of crickets than as of yore. Elisa, in her short life, displayed not only an ear for music, but also what seemed to be a strain of curiosity. Once, when I picked up the container to observe her, she scrambled directly towards me and looked at me with dark eyes and twitching antennae. I found these latter appendages delightful. They would twitch spasmodically like the tail of a squirrel, and gave Elisa the strange air of that rodent. About twice, I stuck my finger slowly into the container so she could familiarize herself with myself. At first, she would freeze, but then she would come to the digit and pass her long antennae over it and then – well, then she would simply ignore me. But her most charming feature was when she would sleep. She would, in preparation, crouch down like  a dog with her limbs slightly splayed, and bring her antennae before her like horns. In that position, she would slip into slumber. Elisa, though well fed and warm, unfortunately did not live for long. She might have already been a while in the pet store before I had purchased her. For two days, I had not  peered into the container, and it was sometime during those days she passed away. I found her, in the end, as still as a stone, standing in the middle of her pen, with not a bit of life in her. She had lived for  six days, nearly a full life for a cricket, but still, I miss her. How I wished to have  had a last look at her  with her twitchy antennae and funny eyes, but I could not. I enjoyed those those days with my cricket, though, more than I had ever imagined, and I am sure I will never forget my little Elisa.

Not based on true events

Pies are dangerous things. Mr. Jackson may not agree, you might not agree, but Mrs. Katie Jackson does agree. And why does she agree? Because she knows, as do the squirrels which frequent her backyard. And how do they know? Well, it all began when the pies began. Mrs. Jackson, after a life-long dislike of the creation of these pastries, finally gave into the teasing of her comrades and began to make pies. For months and months she perfected her craft, with her husband and her squirrels acting as culinary guinea pigs. All went well, more and less, for some pies could barely be swallowed  by either, the squirrels eventually evading these offerings. But no one fell ill on account of the experiments. That is, until one chill morning when Mr. Jackson came to the breakfast table and was surprised by generous slice of pie upon his plate. “ What’s this?” He exclaimed, “ So early in the morning?” “ Yes dear,” replied his wife while she bustled about her duties, “ I made the pie last night, and it must be tasted before Fr. Brian comes to tea this afternoon. I gave some to the squirrels as well.” “ To the squirrels?” Laughed her husband disdainfully as he sat down to his sugary meal, “They could not tell poison from pudding! Well, here goes.” And with that, he took the first spoonful and declared it delicious. Then, at the second spoonful, he commented upon an aftertaste which he detected, and at the third he said that this same aftertaste was not bad, almost pleasant. Soon, the platter was empty, and Mr. Jackson arose with some satisfaction and went to the hall. There, he doned upon himself his coat and hat while his wife  hovered by his side. It did not take long for him to notice the expectant look which was in Mrs. Jackson’s hazel eyes, and condescended to answer her silent inquiry with his verdict. He declared the pie to be good, that, in fact,  he thought it to be her best, and that the aftertaste was of no consequence. But he could not resist his impulse to give a derogative comment upon his rivals. “ I’m quite sure that the squirrels could not tell you that!” he said in conclusion, with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. He then took affectionate leave of his wife and vacated the house. The door shut with a dull thud, and Mrs. Jackson thought that it would be wise to collect the verdict of the squirrels as well as that of her husband before presenting the pie to the distinguished visitor. Therefore, she trotted off to the backdoor, and went into the yard and visited the ancient oak which stood in its centre. There at its roots, she was in the habit of placing her pies, and there a slice of the most recent model stood - untouched. Mrs. Jackson came up to it, and took it into her hands and perused its crusted surface. At length, she raised her eyes to the lower boughs of the oak, and there a row of three pairs of squirrel eyes gazed back to her. At that moment there came a ring of a phone in the house, and she rushed back within its walls, the slice of pie yet in her hand. It was in the kitchen where the lady answered the call and greeted the caller. The cheerfulness died from her voice when she  heard the tidings: her husband was ill to the stomach, and was in need of  a ride home. The caller swiftly assured her that it was nothing serious and wry smile began to appear upon Mrs. Jackson’s lips when she recalled her husband’s parting words: “ I’m sure the squirrels could not tell you that!” “ Well,” she thought, “ I’m afraid they told me much more.”

Not based on true events

Sylvan was an adept hunter among the Spectacled Caimans. He, at first sight, appears lethargic  and lazy with an inability to catch even a slow Lowland Paca in his watery world. How false such a conclusion would be, and how far from reality! For it is this very patience and quietude, mistaken for lethargy, which permits Sylvan to capture his meal. And the perfect time for a meal is midday, when all animals but he are drowsy from their repast. And so it follows that on certain day, at noon, he could be found hunting- and staying still. The sun rays sifted  like a curtain through the rubbery leaves and vines above him as he awaited in the waters with only his eyes and nostrils breaking the surface. Unblinking, Sylvan visually searched the muddy bank before him for any signs of  life. He did not need to wait for long, for soon the bushes parted, and a young deer came forth and caused all of Sylvan’s reptile muscles to tense in preparation for the hunt. But the deer only daintily sipped the slew water, and ventured not into the pool. Once its thirst was quenched, it turned about and disappeared into the bush, unaware of the peril it had escaped. Next a sloth fell within the water nearby,  but that slow fellow swam t to safety before the caiman could even face its way. After came a foolish monkey which ventured into the pond, only to give Sylvan a long and fruitless chase. An owl had plunged in the water directly before him, but in a split second, it was on the wing once more, leaving behind a frustrated hunter. Many failures, though, often lead to a success, and so it seemed today, for after a half hour of the last episode, there came a prime opportunity for a meal. It came in the form of a small splash from behind Sylvan, and in his eagerness he spun about like a top and faced the cause of the noise. There, swimming boldly in the  murky water, was a Lowland Paca. Whether it had dared those depths out of recklessness or ignorance, I can not say. But I can say this: Sylvan was fully prepared to capture his daring prey. The round, brown, pale-striped figure came nearer and nearer,  but then, with a twitch of its long snout, the rodent halted its approach. Fears and suspicions, which  should have been present all along, began to form in the paca’s mind. It gazed about the pools surface with  enlargened eyes, and Sylvan was more still than ever he had been before. The paca’s bright eyes swept over him, yet  he remained unobserved. At length, the suspicions of the paca were hushed, and it continued forth, and in a few seconds was a foot and a half from the caiman. Sylvan watched and watched with eager eyes  as those paddling feet came within reach. Finally, the time for the lunge had arrived, and Sylvan swiftly gaped his jaws. His prey gave a scream of terror and attempted in vain to escape. But the escape was perhaps not as futile as it appeared, for before the paca could be snatched, there resounded a loud, rubbery “Whap!”as something green and heavy  fell flat upon Sylvan’s snout and shut it tight. Immediately after the caiman was scourged with not only one but a full downpour of these creatures from above. And what were they, these tumbling animals? They were Green Iguanas. In an immense horde they pattered upon the unfortunate caiman. For some time, there were  tails in his eyes and claws in his nose and toes in his mouth. The event was short-lived, though, and soon they swam away in a frenzy, and Sylvan again was alone. Yes, alone, for the paca had long fled and the caiman was left hungry in the water. But suddenly he heard a rubbery “Whap!” far above him and without another moment’s notice, Sylvan hastily opened his jaws, and had his meal.