The Sea Shore

CHAPTER I. _the General Characteristics of the Sea Shore_

THE GENERAL CHARACTERISTICS OF THE SEA SHORE

What are the attractions which so often entice us to the sea shore, which give such charm to a ramble along the cliffs or the beach, and which will so frequently constrain the most active wanderer to rest and admire the scene before him? The chief of these attractions is undoubtedly the incessant motion of the water and the constant change of scene presented to his view. As we ramble along a beaten track at the edge of the cliff, new and varied features of the coast are constantly opening up before us. Each little headland passed reveals a sheltered picturesque cove or a gentle bay with its line of yellow sands backed by the cliffs and washed by the foaming waves; while now and again our path slopes down to a peaceful valley with its cluster of pretty cottages, and the rippling stream winding its way towards the sea. On the one hand is the blue sea, full of life and motion as far as the eye can reach, and on the other the cultivated fields or the wild and rugged downs.

The variety of these scenes is further increased by the frequent changes in the character of the cliffs themselves. Where they are composed of soft material we find the coast-line washed into gentle curves, and the beach formed of a continuous stretch of fine sand; but where harder rocks exist the scenery is wild and varied, and the beach usually strewn with irregular masses of all sizes.

Then, when we approach the water’s edge, we find a delight in watching the approaching waves as they roll over the sandy or pebbly beach, or embrace an outlying rock, gently raising its olive covering of dangling weeds.

Such attractions will allure the ordinary lover of Nature--the mere seeker after the picturesque--but to the true naturalist there are many others. The latter loves to read in the cliffs their past history, to observe to what extent the general scenery of the coast is due to the nature of the rocks, and to learn the action of the waves from the character of the cliffs and beach, and from the changes which are known to have taken place in the contour of the land in past years. He also delights to study those plants and flowers which are peculiar to the coast, and to observe how the influences of the sea have produced interesting modifications in certain of our flowering plants, as may be seen by comparing them with the same species from inland districts. The sea birds, too, differing so much as they do from our other feathered friends in structure and habit, provide a new field for study; while the remarkably varied character of the forms of life met with on the beach and in the shallow waters fringing the land is in itself sufficient to supply the most active naturalist with material for prolonged and constant work.

Let us first observe some of the general features of the coast itself, and see how far we can account for the great diversity of character presented to us, and for the continual changes and incessant motions that add such a charm to the sea-side ramble.

Here we stand on the top of a cliff composed of a soft calcareous rock--on the exposed edge of a bed of chalk that extends far inland. All the country round is gently undulating, and devoid of any of the features that make up a wild and romantic scene. The coast-line, too, is wrought into a series of gentle bays, separated by inconspicuous promontories where the rock, being slightly harder, has better withstood the eroding action of the sea; or where a current, washing the neighbouring shore, has been by some force deflected seaward. The cliff, though not high, rises almost perpendicularly from the beach, and presents to the sea a face which is but little broken, and which in itself shows no strong evidence of the action of raging, tempestuous seas; its chief diversity being its gradual rise and fall with each successive undulation of the land. The same soft and gentle nature characterises the beach below. Beyond a few small blocks of freshly-loosened chalk, with here and there a liberated nodule of flint, we find nothing but a continuous, fine, siliceous sand, the surface of which is but seldom broken by the protrusion of masses from below. Such cliffs and beaches do not in themselves suggest any violent action on the part of the sea, and yet it is here that the ocean is enabled to make its destructive efforts with the greatest effect. The soft rock is gradually but surely reduced, partly by the mechanical action of the waves and partly by the chemical action of the sea-water. The rock being almost uniformly soft, it is uniformly worn away, thus presenting a comparatively unbroken face. Its material is gradually dissolved in the sea; and the calcareous matter being thus removed, we have a beach composed of the remains of the flints which have been pulverised by the action of the waves. Thus slowly but surely the sea gains upon the land. Thus it is that many a famous landmark, once hundreds of yards from the coast, now stands so near the edge of the cliff as to be threatened by every storm; or some ancient castle, once miles from the shore, lies entirely buried by the encroaching sea.

The coast we have described is most certainly not the one with the fullest attractions for the naturalist, for the cliffs lack those nooks that provide so much shelter for bird and beast, and the rugged coves and rock pools in which we find such a wonderful variety of marine life are nowhere to be seen. But, although it represents a typical shore for a chalky district, yet we may find others of a very different nature even where the same rock exists. Thus, at Flamborough in Yorkshire, and St. Alban’s Head in Dorset, we find the hardened, exposed edge of the chalk formation terminating in bold and majestic promontories, while the inner edge surrounding the Weald gives rise to the famous cliffs of Dover and the dizzy heights of Beachy Head. The hard chalk of the Isle of Wight, too, which has so well withstood the repeated attacks of the Atlantic waves, presents a bold barrier to the sea on the south and east coasts, and terminates in the west with the majestic stacks of the Needles.

Where this harder chalk exists the coast is rugged and irregular. Sea birds find a home in the sheltered ledges and in the protected nooks of its serrated edge; and the countless wave-resisting blocks of weathered chalk that have been hurled from the heights above, together with the many remnants of former cliffs that have at last succumbed to the attacks of the boisterous sea, all form abundant shelter for a variety of marine plants and animals.

But it is in the west and south-west of our island that we find both the most furious waves and the rocks that are best able to resist their attacks. Here we are exposed to the full force of the frontal attacks of the Atlantic, and it is here that the dashing breakers seek out the weaker portions of the upturned and contorted strata, eating out deep inlets, and often loosening enormous blocks of the hardest material, hurling them on the rugged beach, where they are eventually to be reduced to small fragments by the continual clashing and grinding action of the smaller masses as they are thrown up by the angry sea. Here it is that we find the most rugged and precipitous cliffs, bordering a more or less wild and desolate country, now broken by a deep and narrow chasm where the resonant roar of the sea ascends to the dizzy heights above, and anon stretching seaward into a rocky headland, whose former greatness is marked by a continuation of fantastic outliers and smaller wave-worn masses of the harder strata. Here, too, we find that the unyielding rocks give a permanent attachment to the red and olive weeds which clothe them, and which provide a home for so many inhabitants of our shallow waters. It is here, also, that we see those picturesque rock pools of all sizes, formed by the removal of the softer material of the rocks, and converted into so many miniature seas by the receding of the tide.

A more lovely sight than the typical rock pool of the West coast one can hardly imagine. Around lies the rugged but sea-worn rock, partly hidden by dense patches of the conical shells of the Balanus, with here and there a snug cluster of young mussels held together by their intertwining silken byssi. The surface is further relieved by the clinging limpet, the beautifully banded shells of the variable dog-periwinkle, the pretty top shells, and a variety of other common but interesting molluscs. Clusters of the common bladdery weeds are also suspended from the dry rock, and hang gracefully into the still water below, where the mantled cowry may be seen slowly gliding over the olive fronds. Submerged in the peaceful pool are beautiful tufts of white and pink corallines, among which a number of small and slender starfishes may climb unnoticed by the casual observer; while the scene is brightened by the numerous patches of slender green and red algæ, the thread-like fronds of which are occasionally disturbed as the lively little blenny darts among them to evade the intruder’s glance. Dotted here and there are the beautiful anemones--the variously-hued animal flowers of the sea, with expanded tentacles gently and gracefully swaying, ready to grasp and paralyse any small living being that may wander within their reach. Here, under a projecting ledge of the rock, partly hidden by pale green threads, are the glaring eyes of the voracious bullhead, eager to pounce on almost any moving object; while above it the five-fingered starfish slowly climbs among the dangling weeds by means of its innumerable suckers. In yonder shady corner, where the overhanging rock cuts off all direct rays of the sun from the deeper water of the pool, are the pink and yellow incrustations of little sponges, some of the latter colour resembling a group of miniature inverted volcanic cones, while on the sandy floor of the pool itself may be seen the transparent phantom-like prawn, with its rapidly moving spinnerets and gently-waving antennæ, suddenly darting backward when disturbed by the incautious approach of the observer; and the spotted sand-crab, entirely buried with the exception of its upper surface, and so closely imitating its surroundings as to be quite invisible except on the closest inspection. Finally, the scene is greatly enlivened by the active movements of the hermit-crab, that appropriates to its own use the shell which once covered the body of a mollusc, and by the erratic excursions of its cousin crabs as they climb over the weedy banks of the pool in search of food.

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