TheBanyanTree: Come, friendly heron, and eat our fish

[John Bailey]

Thursday April 15, 2004

COME, FRIENDLY HERON, AND EAT OUR FISH

To the doctor's surgery in Spilsby today, clutching a small bottle of pee, 
all ready for my 'new patient check-up'. Blood pressure good. Weight 
acceptable. Urinalysis good. Lung function surprisingly good. So much 
enthusiastic positivism is quite depressing, really.

And then to Boston to the DIY store, seeking light timber for slatted 
shelving in the linen cupboard -- the next installment in our programme of 
storage optimisation -- and a new kitchen sink and taps. The latter was not 
quite an impulse buy because we'd seen it on our previous visit. At a very 
favourable price, it is to replace the single bowl and drainer we 
inherited, providing an extra small bowl specifically for Dolly the Mega-cat.

Dolly likes to drink water fresh from the tap, you see, and from the 
kitchen sink. Only common cats, like Harry, drink from a bowl on the floor. 
But then Harry, a glutton for novelty, will drink from any passing puddle 
or unusual container that comes his way. Best not to think about some of 
the unusual containers from which Harry will slake his thirst.

Anyway, having a small extra bowl suits Dolly admirably because we keep it 
filled with fresh water. She deems that to be an acceptable alternative to 
a constantly dripping tap which, in these days of metered water supplies, 
is a budget-buster. The old sink will not go to waste because we plan to 
re-use it in our new utility room.

Then, home, lunch, and an afternoon nap.

I woke to find Graham out in the garden carrying out some much needed 
maintenance on the fish pond, topping it up with fresh water and pulling 
out some weed.

"We'll need to put in a pump and small fountain to freshen this up," he 
said as he pulled off the scuzzy old plastic netting the previous owners 
installed to protect the fish from marauders.

"That'll be a great step forward," I said. "And I was right, taking the 
netting off lets the surface of the water reflect the sky properly."

"Wish these fish would emigrate, though." This said as he tippled the day's 
ration of food onto the surface of the water.

We stood for a while watching the stupid creatures gobble up the food 
before resuming their endless round and round orbit.

"It's always clockwise, have you noticed?" I said.

"You're right.  I wonder why."

"Something to do with the Fish law of universal perversity?"

"Could be."

"And in the southern hemisphere they probably always swim anti-clockwise."

"Now you're being silly."

"I wondered if you'd notice."

They are a problem, though, the fish, that is. We don't want them in what 
is destined to become our lily pond, but we don't wish them any harm, 
either. So, we shall continue feeding them, and work to keep their watery 
world a healthy place for them, and hope that nature will take its course 
and effect their gradual disappearance. I'm a little more hard-hearted on 
this one than Graham, so I offered up a little prayer as we went back into 
the house.

"Come, friendly heron, and eat our fish," I said, and I almost meant it.


--

John Bailey   Lincolnshire, England

journal of a writing man:
<http://www.oldgreypoet.com>