Frodo Baggins set out to destroy the One Ring, defeating Sauron and saving Middle Earth from the forces of darkness.
Luke Skywalker learned the ways of the Force in order to overcome his fear, confront his father, and overthrow the Galactic Empire and its emperor.
King Arthur led the Knights of the Round Table to seek out and find the Holy Grail, the legendary cup the Lord used at the last supper.
Odysseus spent 10 years trying to return to Ithaca and his wife, Penelope, after the fall of Troy.
I could go on, but these famous heroes’ journeys are the best analogs I can come up with for the journey I have been on to rehabilitate, reshape and restore the aquatic habitat of goldfish in my backyard.
This Herculean task – some might say Sisyphean task – began in 2012 when we moved into our current home. With this beautiful home, we inherited the care and upkeep of a small backyard water feature with resident goldfish.
At first this amenity brought great joy and serenity as we sat on our deck overlooking the manicured lawn and landscaping, watching the bright orange fish dart about in anticipation of a handful of fish pellets. We relaxed to the sounds of the babbling brook as the recycling pump pushed water from the basin 30 or so feet to the top of the gentle slope to run down the creek channel and over the waterfall into the roughly 10-foot-by-4-foot pond.
The pond contained beautiful vegetation and well-kept aquatic plants. It blended perfectly with the yard’s landscaping, adding value to our home and quality to our lives.
But, as with all great quests, the tranquility would not last. An age of tumult and disquiet would soon descend upon our home. This prevented us from being as conscientiously attentive to our stream and pond. Soon, the pond fell into shadow. A series of calamities befell the backyard water feature causing both our resident goldfish and me great distress.
I first attempted to confront the issue of spillage from the creek bed. If we didn’t keep the algae and moss cleaned out, the buildup would cause the stream’s flow to divert over the side of the shallow channel, draining the pond over a couple of days. This was typically a summertime occurrence, and when things were normal, I could keep up with it.
But when life circumstances conspired against my pond maintenance time, I would have to shut off the pump and let the pond stagnate until I could get the channel cleaned and the water flowing again. This happened more times than the SPCA would have liked, but our goldfish proved resilient beyond all hope. They lived to tell of the dark times, and when new fish were introduced to our pond – a gift from our friends the Kennedys who were filling in their pond and re-landscaping their yard.
The new fish and the old fish got along swimmingly (see what I did there?), and our new residents inspired me to greater levels of upkeep. It was a golden age of renewal for the pond.
The forces of evil do not stay dormant for long. In a matter of months, even our new residents were challenged to contend with the cycle of algae and lower water levels. Desperate times called for desperate measures. I called on a pond consultant.
I was given a quote in excess of $10,000 to remove the stream, relandscape the space and replace the recirculating pump and feed line. I did not have this sum lying around, so I took their plan and began investing my own sweat equity in the project. I removed the 409,672 rocks from the channel, disconnected the feed line from the upper waterfall basin and pulled up the liner.
I dug a new hole for the waterfall basin at the mouth of the pond, replaced the aging and leaky liner, refilled the pond all the while keeping our dwindling number of goldfish alive… miraculously.
Just as the pond and its surroundings was taking shape again, the fish began disappearing one by one without a trace. Ten became seven and then four, and finally two. Desperate to save my remaining fish, I called the consultant who I had not hired for the job the first time.
“It’s a heron,” she said definitively.
I was incredulous. I had always admired herons during my time on Georgia’s waterways. How could such a graceful creature devour my goldfish?
“Do you have a net over your pond?” she asked.
Obviously not. Like the screens on our windows, my Darling Beloved had determined the net was vestigial and an eyesore. She discarded it not long after we moved in. Turns out, that net had a purpose.
As if on cue, several days later when I pulled into the driveway after a long day of work, I spied a heron on the roof of my house. I parked my car and inspected the pond. The fish were gone. This mystery, worthy of a true crime podcast, was solved. The consultant was right. It was a heron. And it gloated as it took flight from the roof, looking back as if to say “So long, and thanks for all the fish.”
That was then. This is now. I purchased a new net and covered the pond, keeping both last fall’s leaves and predators out of the pond. I waited patiently for the weather to warm up, and finally a couple of weeks ago, restocked it with 10 new, inexpensive but precious goldfish. I must report that one of the 10 passed of unknown causes. Its tiny little carcass floated over to the recycling pump. There was a body, so it could not have been the work of a heron. The netting appears to be repelling herons thus far. The new nine love their new home, and I tend my preciouses with genuine affection. I even take time to talk to them:
“How are we today, my preciouses?”
“We will protect you, my preciouses.”
“No nasty heronses can have you, my preciouses.”
“What has it got in its pockets, gollum, gollum…”
The epic quest completed, our pond has entered a new, golden age in which goldfish will thrive and maintenance will be conscientiously observed. It is the time of goldfish and waterfalls, and all will be at peace in my kingdom.
And unlike cinematic epics these days, I’m not looking for any sequels.
Frodo lives!
New South Essays 