Last Spring, I battled the underpaid kid at the neighborhood pet store to wrangle ten bright, orange fish out of a tank of thousands of mixed brown feeder fish. Twenty minutes and $1.90 later, I went home to add my hard-gotten pets to my newly installed pond. Now, before you get any grandiose ideas, my pond isn't some sweeping, landscaped body of water with a weeping willow tree gracefully reaching out to frolicking frogs and wildlife; By pond, I mean a 4 by 3 foot hole with a plastic liner and some water. "The Pond" was my Spring project last year.
My small, swimming friends assimilated to life in "The Pond" quite well. Every morning and evening I feed them and they, in return, take my mind from all life's daily pressures, if only for a few minutes.
I never, technically, named the fish. They have monikers such as: "The One With White on His Face", "Black Tailed One", "The Shy One" and "My, Isn't He Getting Big". Even nameless, they quickly became a much looked forward to part of my day.
My little oasis was really put to the test of being a true part of New England this past year as Mother nature played her worst tricks on us. My little buddies survived the winds, falling trees and weeks long power outages of a hurricane in the Fall. Then, after all the clean up from the hurricane, Mother Nature decided we had spent enough time being cozy and warm and sent a blizzard to keep us trapped in our houses and ponds under three feet of snow. As the weeks went by and the inches of snow slowly melted, I waited anxiously to see if my finned friends had survived the onslaught. The first glimpse of the melted pond revealed a flash of orange and I knew all was well.
Spring has come back around and the plants and wildlife are blooming. My fish and I have again begun our daily ritual of food and peace. I spent hours yesterday, under the warm Spring sunshine, cleaning the leaves and other trappings of a hard winter from their home in preparation of my quiet, summer evenings reading and stargazing by "The Pond".
Today, I was hurrying to finish my painting project so I could get outside and start work on my garden when my dog began to bark out the den window. My husband called to me to come see the Great Egret in our back yard. Being an avid bird watcher, I dropped my paint brush and ran to the window to see this spectacular sight. I didn't make it. The dog's barking and my husband's calling had scared the great bird away. Damn!
I was just heading back to my paintbrush when I suddenly remembered what Great Egrets eat. I hurried to my pond and searched for my little flashes of orange; I moved the plants, searched with the net and took the filter out to see if anything was caught. I even fished around with my hand through the murky water.
Nothing.
Farewell, my Little Rays of Sunshine. My evenings by "The Pond" will be considerably less gratifying without your colorful antics. Your tenacity was no match for that three foot tall, bill like a spear, version of Mother Nature.
I will miss you; Especially "My, Isn't He Getting Big".
