Monday, January 23, 2012

Gold Fish

It’s not easy to kill a gold fish. At least not on purpose. I’ve done it. I’ve flushed a couple down the toilet. I’ve allowed a number to become entombed in the ice of our pond, their corpses floating to the surface in the early spring. In an indirect way, I’ve provided easy access to our fish to the cat and raccoon that patrol the edge of our pond, the gnawed skeletons scattered on the ground in the morning. But when I’ve brought some of the pond fish in for the winter and put them in an aquarium, as I did again this year, I’ve not been able to knock them off. I came close this week, though. We had to buy a new filter and pump this year, and after a couple of months it had become gunked up. So I decided to clean it. With vinegar. (That’s what we clean the coffee pot with, after all.) And it seemed to work fine – most all of the algae and gunk melted away, I rinsed everything out well, and put it all back together. But the next morning the aquarium was cloudy and the fish were gasping for air at the top of the tank. Things did not look good. My wife suggested a ph imbalance, which sounded as good a diagnosis as any, but what did that mean and what could I do about it? Moreover, what did I care? If the fish died, the fish died. They’re lucky they aren’t like their more unfortunate brethren this winter, encased in the ice of the pond out by the garage. They get two daily feedings and seem quite content, if completely unaware, in their aqua cage. If I were to flush them tomorrow, they’d be none the wiser. But they survive, if not thrive. The water began to clear up the next day, and after a few more days had cleared up altogether. They’re happy (I can only suppose) to suck in gold fish flakes twice a day and mindlessly cruise the tank in the beams of sun that slice the water. In a way, I envy them their obliviousness to the climate change threats to their confined environment. But they remind me in uncomfortable ways of those in our own confined environment who remain oblivious to the not-all-that-different threats to our own.

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