I promised to post some photos of our fish, and here they are…
There is a story behind us having a fish tank so suddenly. As part of the adoption process, we have had to fill in the pond at the end of the garden. Several years ago, when we first dug it and were enthusiastic about all things to do with ponds, we bought several fish - Golden Rudd and Green Tench, and released them into the wonderful world we had built.
They disappeared off into the depths, and that was the last we saw of them.
Many moons later, we spotted a Heron in the garden, and thought “that’s why we never see the fish any more”. We got through the grieving process over a cup of tea, and carried on with our lives.
Then the weekend before last W’s brother and parents helped us to destroy the pond that we had worked so hard to excavate, line, and fill - all in the name of child safety (woe betide a child be told “NO
Sorry.
Anyway… while emptying the pond, we discovered that the Heron spotted several summers previously wasn’t quite as good at fishing as we had supposed. All of the fish were alive and well - and seem to have procreated. We’re not sure if nature did it’s amazing sex change trick on the Green Tench, or if we were just luck enough to get a boy and a girl - but we now have three. And eight Golden Rudd.
For a week, the liberated fish lived in a huge bucket outside our back door. With fear of the impending frosts and a frozen doom for them, we first were given, and then bought a fishtank. We had never owned or kept fish before, so found ourselves at the mercy of the garden centre staff.
Being cold water fish that lived in a muddy old pond, we were assured by the aquatics department at Booker Garden Center (owned by Notcutts, if you were wondering - and you’ll see why we’re naming and shaming in a moment) that the fish would be quite happy in the tank as long as we put four or five plants in to oxygenate the water.
All went well for about three days. The fish seemed to like their new home. Then one evening (Saturday, I seem to recall) W noticed the Rudd hanging around at the surface. A lot. She realised they were suffocating, and nearly burst into tears.
We raced to Bourne End garden centre (still coughing and sneezing like lunatics, remember), and the staff couldn’t believe the story we told them and the advice we had been given. They were very careful not to slander their competition, but got out their text books, gave us a christmas lectures style summary of the nitrogen cycle with fresh water fish, and then showed us the filter and pump we would need to buy.
An hour later we were home, and W expertly plumbed the new gubbins into the tank in true rescue mission style - and then worried in their general direction for several hours.
The fish survived. They continue to survive. Strangely, the cat has not really taken a great deal of interest in them - despite sitting with his face near the glass earlier as several of the Rudd swam lazily past.
Having never owned fish before, I can see the calming effect they might have if you sit and watch them - but can’t help but wish there was a big button you could press on the front of the tank that made them all line up and do a song and dance number or something…