In field experiments, Atlantic salmon
swim at odd times, and frogs stop mating under skies glowing from stadium lights at football games.
Every day, sometimes even three
times a day, the nameless man in that story visits the Jardin des Plantes to stare
at the strange little animals in their cramped aquarium,
at their translucent milky bodies and delicate lizard's tails, their pink, flat, triangular Aztec faces and tiny feet with nearly humanlike fingers, the
odd reddish sprigs that sprout from their gills, the golden glow of their eyes, the way they hardly ever move, only now and then twitching their gills, or abruptly
swimming with a single undulation of their bodies.