THE ROTIFERSBY Robert AbernathyBeneath the stagnant water shadowed by water lilies Harry found the fascinating world of the rotifers—but it was their world, and they resented intrusion.Illustrated by Virgil Finlay
Henry Chatham knelt bythe brink of his garden pond,a glass fish bowl cupped in his thin,nervous hands. Carefully he dippedthe bowl into the green-scummedwater and, moving it gently, lettrailing streamers of submergedwater weeds drift into it. Then hepicked up the old scissors he hadlaid on the bank, and clipped thestems of the floating plants, gettingas much of them as he could in thecontainer.
When he righted the bowl andgot stiffly to his feet, it contained, hethought hopefully, a fair cross-sectionof fresh-water plankton. Hewas pleased with himself for rememberingthat term from the bookhe had studied assiduously for thelast few nights in order to be ableto cope with Harry's inevitablequestions.
There was even a shiny blackwater beetle doing insane circles onthe surface of the water in the fishbowl. At sight of the insect, the eyesof the twelve-year-old boy, whohad been standing by in silent expectation,widened with interest.
"What's that thing, Dad?" heasked excitedly. "What's that crazybug?"
"I don't know its scientific name,I'm afraid," said Henry Chatham."But when I was a boy we used tocall them whirligig beetles."
"He doesn't seem to think he hasenough room in the bowl," saidHarry thoughtfully. "Maybe webetter put him back in the pond,Dad."
"I thought you might want tolook at him through the microscope,"the father said in some surprise.
"I think we ought to put himback," insisted Harry.Mr. Chatham held the drippingbowl obligingly. Harry's hand, athin boy's hand with narrow sensitivefingers, hovered over the water,and when the beetle paused for amoment in its gyrations, made adive for it.
But the whirligig beetle saw thehand coming, and, quicker than awink, plunged under the water andscooted rapidly to the very bottomof the bowl.
Harry's young face was rueful;he wiped his wet hand on his trousers."I guess he wants to stay," hesupposed.
The two went up the gardenpath together and into the house,Mr. Chatham bearing the fish bowlbefore him like a votive offering.Harry's mother met them at thedoor, brandishing an old towel.
"Here," she said firmly, "youwipe that thing off before you bringit in the house. And don't drip anyof that dirty pond water on my goodcarpet."
"It's not dirty," said Henry Chatham."It's just full of life, plantsand animals too small for the eyeto see. But Harry's going to seethem with his microscope." He acceptedthe towel and wiped thewater and slime from the outside ofthe bo