Update from Frank's Pond

Everywhere I go, people ask me “>How are the fish? Was it Melvin?” So here’s an update.

First, I solved the mystery – Racoon. Caught in the act. Late one night I was sitting quietly when it came ambling out from the shadows. After a brief pause and a sideways glance my way, it nonchalantly headed straight for the pond. I had to lunge at it and yell before it turned away to disappear under the deck.

So I began to cover the pond at night with plywood – “putting the fish to bed” as I call it. That may have had an unfortunate consequence. Back when it wasn’t cooling off much at night, I removed the plywood one morning to find two fish fins-up and a third more dead than alive. In first-responder mode, I grabbed the hose and sprayed fresh water into the pond to boost the oxygen level and hopefully keep the others alive. But it was too late for the ailing one.

So after three casualties, I was down to two fish. My son confirmed that one of the survivors was in deed Melvin. Even I can tell these two fish apart. So after more than five months we were on a first name basis. Melvin and, well, I call him Howard. And fine specimens they were, each about the size of a Ball Park frank (uncooked, you know, “they plump when you cook ‘em”). So I refreshed the pond with new water and hoped for the best.

I began to notice new behavior. Melvin and Howard became very competitive. Whenever I fed them, they couldn’t be content to just eat. They had to chase each other away from the food. And that’s pretty much all they did, chase each other around. I guess it was a classic case of the Big Fish in a Little Pond. Only in this case, it was two big fish trying to prove who was boss.

Then an early cold snap, and the fish slowed down. For a few days, all they did was a synchronized-floating thing, parallel to each other and slightly offset, usually with Melvin a bit ahead of Howard. Now and then a fin would flutter. But they wouldn’t eat. I could see the flakes of food settled on the bottom of the pond. Gentle words of encouragement, even guilt trips about starving fish in far-away places who’d love to eat what they were ignoring, didn’t work. I fought the urge to show them what good stuff it was by eating some myself. Even when it warmed up, and they got more active, they still wouldn’t eat. I decided they were depressed.

I was right. Last week I found Melvin marooned on top of a bed of fake seaweed floating in a corner of the pond. He had beached himself, like those whales when they decide they just can’t take another Navy SONAR test. He must have realized that summer was coming to an end, and made a frantic attempt to just end it all. His genetic code must have hinted at his likely fate, and he didn’t want to go out that way. How could he know that I wouldn’t let him freeze when winter set in? He’d be going to my friend’s huge, heated pond where fish frolic year round, if he could just hang on for a few more weeks.

Melvin looked like a goner for sure, but I tried fish CPR. Actually, I just poked at him, and he sunk listlessly to the bottom, settling on one side. I watched, wondering if I should put him out of his misery. Then, some movement! He started doing that fish thing – the open and closing mouth action – but very slowly. I watched for a while, but it didn’t look good. Not much more than a fluttering fin, and that mouth, o..p..e..n..i..n..g, then c..l..o..s..i..n..g. Pathetic! Surely he saw that bright light at the end of the tunnel, where Moby Dick stood gently beckoning “come on in, it’ll be OK.” I went back to work accepting that my next visit to the pond would find Melvin fully checked-out.

But No! Melvin made a miraculous recovery. A week after his botched suicide attempt, he is almost back to his old self. He still chases Howard around some, but now he will eat. I feed them separately now. I give Melvin a bit of food, and then Howard some on the other side of the pond, before Melvin catches on. It’s working – Mel’s not as sharp as he once was.

So yesterday I performed what will probably be my last pond maintenance this time around. A near-complete water change, clean the pump and flush the line to get the waterfall flowing full-tilt again. If I can keep these two survivors from harm, and from driving each other crazy, for just a few more weeks, I will consider the season a huge success. But I will miss my fish. The lifeless pond in winter is a stark sight. But there should be a next April, if we humans can keep it together for a while longer. I hope so.

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