To paraphrase a saying: “what is one man’s pet, is another man’s
poison.” Some would have no other than a
dog or cat as a pet. Our family has had our share of those, but goldfish have
played a very important part in the “stories” of our family.
When our two boys were little, each had a
goldfish, sharing the same bowl. Of
course, they were duly named and recognized by the owner. One day Mitch’s fish died! Soon afterwards, we noticed a long line of
black streaming out of the gills of Lance’s fish. Expecting it to die also, we rushed it out to
our large pond in the back of our property, where it was promptly swallowed up
by the vastness of the pond. Two years later we were amazed to see this large
goldfish swimming out there. We did not
realize that the size of goldfish depended on their environment!
It was not until as adults, when we were
recalling this event that Mitch admitted that he had been very angry that his
fish had died and not Lance’s, so he had sprinkled black pepper into the
bowl---thus, the gasping fish!
Later on, at the same house, we made a
small goldfish pond close to the house, rimmed with limestone rocks and flowers. However, we were plagued by the build-up of
algae, which turned the water green so that the fish could not be seen. Bryant bought a box of algae-killer and
carefully read the directions. He
decided on his own that if a little of the powder would be good, a little more
would be better. One half hour after the
application, he went out to check, and most of the fish were “belly-up.” He yelled for help, and we all frantically
scooped out fish and put them into pails of fresh water. This was all to no avail. We had to start
over from scratch.
The lesson learned was not only to read
directions, but FOLLOW THEM!
On Exchange Street we also had a small
goldfish pool. We stocked it with
Japanese Koi and four special ones that swim near the surface of the water, so
they are more visible. When winter approached, it was time to bring in the
fish. They were put in a 50-gallon oil drum in the basement near the sump pump
hole. Bryant fed them each morning and
noticed one day that the surface-swimming fish were missing. They were jumpers (a fact we did not know)
and had jumped out of the drum, but they were not dead on the
floor. No, they had landed in a narrow
trench around the perimeter of the cellar, heading for the sump pump and the
“great beyond!”
In this same pool, the fish bred, and the
little ones hid in the vegetation. When
it came time to take them in, the pool had to be drained in order to get them
all. We had a 25-foot-long garden hose
siphoning the water out. As Bryant stood
at the end of it, along came a little goldfish.
What a traumatic first trip that must have been for him!
No comments:
Post a Comment