On the coasts of Norway, as he watched the herring during the spawning season, he marveled at the formidable fertility of the sea.
From their refuge in the shadowy depths, these fish mount to the surface moved by the message of the spring, desirous of taking their part in the joy of the world.

They swim one against another, close, compact, forming strata that subdivide and float out to sea.

They look like an island just coming to the surface, or a continent beginning to sink.

In the narrow passages the shoals are so numerous that the waters become solidified, making almost impossible the advance of a row boat.
Their number is beyond the possibilities of calculation, like the sands and the stars.
Men and carnivorous fish fall upon them, opening great furrows of destruction in their midst: but the breaches are closed instantly and the living bank continues on its way, growing denser every moment, as though defying death.

The more their enemies destroy them, the more numerous they become.