Gulls and jackdaws follow the harbour's work; smaller birds and rodents occupy roofs, gardens and storehouses. In the changing salinity near the quays, fish have their own seasonal movements. Residents know animals as food, nuisance and company, but their behaviour cannot reliably disclose a living House's condition. What fishers learn is passed between boat crews and shore households, often with more attention to weather than to written dates.
Silver Quay Eel
In autumn, on dark nights after rain, fishers watch the meeting of harbour salt water and freshwater runoff for the seaward movement of mature eels. The silver quay eel is their name for an eel at this silvery stage, not a separate magical animal. Its passage depends on water and weather, which is why an experienced crew compares the current with what happened on previous nights instead of trusting a date in a ledger. The catch enters the city's trade in fresh and preserved food, described under keeping the catch.
Dusk Jackdaw
Above the working harbour, dusk jackdaws gather in gaps between roofs and additions. Warm chimney draughts and predictable scraps make certain roosts attractive for years, until a repaired flue or a change in refuse collection drives the birds elsewhere. Their disappearance has repeatedly been taken as a warning of Cooling. Often the explanation is much smaller. A change in how the harbour handles its rubbish has embarrassed more than one solemn interpreter of the roofs.
The Fisher's Miscount
One fisher, so the quay-side story goes, counted a shoal twice when the tide carried it past the same post again. Apprentices still hear the tale whenever they turn a single morning's sighting into a remarkable estimate of the catch. No name or date survives.