Wednesday, July 02, 2014

Gold Fish

A few years back my farmer neighbor Chris gave me his gold fish to put in the pond on top of the big hill.  She had outgrown her bowl and he wanted her to have more room to swim.  I delivered "Goldie" to her new home and she grew into a lovely big fish with beautiful fan tails.  I fear Goldie's size and beauty made her catch the attention of Madame Blue Heron as I no longer see Goldie emerge from the mud at the bottom of the pond in the spring.  Enter the Conservation students at my school.  They brought me a bucket of tiny gold fish from their pond which was overstocked.  I emptied them into my pond and they thrived in spite of the heron who comes from time to time to gorge herself on my fish.  There might be a snapper in there, too, but the last time I saw her was a year ago this spring.  Snappers love to eat little golden fish.  She might have moved on - fine with me - but I'm still not putting my feet down in the mud!  I was presented with another surprise when Kim came from Ontario to do the Bouckville sheep festival  and brought me a wonderful gift - a bag of goldfish, from her daughter, Lindsay, purchased with her allowance money. I took the dogs up to the pond this morning and stood on the bank watching the little golden glints of color in the sun, just below the surface, spread out over the pond.  What a thrill.  On deck for today after morning chores - collect some eggs for my breakfast.  They are spread out all over the barn but I know where to look.  My free range birds give me more eggs than the chickens in their own room.  What does that tell you?  Free range chickens are happier?   Mia is coming tonight!  I'm planning on meeting her in New Berlin for dinner, then back to the farm for an evening pond float and campfire under the stars.  It's been more than a year since she's been here.  I'll only have her for one day and two nights as she is heading out to the Caribbean on vacation this weekend.  Hurricane Arthur is coming up the coast and I'm fearful the fringe might disrupt my hay-making plans.  The weather report does not reflect it but with farming we expect the worst and hope for the best.  Only way to fly.

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