I’ve written a fair bit about my son’s pond, from the drama with the worm-full pump to the marauding heron and especially Simon, the bubble blowing ghost koi with whom I have a bit of a thing going on. I have shared the tales of Bent-Tail the golden orfe, of Fat Fish and the sad story of Round Fish. Mainly I share the odd insights I get when I am watching the shifting ripples play with the sunlight and reflections on the water. Watching the pond is a good place to be for the mind to swim away on its own accord and I watch daily.
This time, however, my attention was caught by something just beneath the surface. About the size of a splinter; probably, I thought, the mosquitos had been breeding. There is a rail around the pond, which is sunk over a foot below the deck, so it is almost impossible to get close enough to really look… but the zoom on the camera is a good substitute for proximity. A baby fish! In fact, once I had learned what to look for, there were others… tiny little things, darting left and right through the protective forest of weeds. I saw at least five in one small patch, so goodness knows how many more there are in the green tangle. I looked at Simon, wondering if this made him a grandfather… or grandmother… we don’t know for sure. He met my eyes and it felt as if he shared my joy.
You cannot see them at all unless they have the sunlight on their backs when they move. You cannot see a ‘them’ either, until you have searched for and managed to spot just one and attune your eyes. You have to look each day to look for that shape and form. They are incredibly tiny and vulnerable, so they must, I thought, be newly hatched… which would explain why I had seen none before as I gaze into the pond every single day. Except, today there was another. This one was bigger… much bigger. Still no more an inch long, but rounded and properly fish shaped… coloured like a koi or an orfe… and it must have hatched at least a month ago to have grown this big.
Now, I know it is a decent size for a garden pond, but when I think about it, there are an awful lot of fish in there that you rarely see. The sturgeon, for example, you see only when they come a little nearer the surface. Considering these things are the length of my arm and of greater girth, that is surprising, apart from the fact that you know they live on the bottom of the pond as a rule. They are there, in the shadows all the time. In fact, the only way you are guaranteed to see them is when something is wrong and they react to the crisis by coming to the surface. The barbel are the same, though smaller and dark. You recognise them by a glimpse of their ‘beard’ against the lighter gravel. The weather loach you simply never see… perhaps once a year; they live within the sediment and gravel of the bottom of the pond. Yet… you know they are there.
Even some of the surface dwellers can be hard to discern in the shifting shadows. The black koi, some of the carp and tench… the grass carp are seen only by the gaping mouth that dredges the surface… even though they are supposed to be bottom dwellers, they are opportunists and turn up where they see fit. It occurred to me that as I am the one who removes the occasional sad casualty of age or illness, I would know of their presence only by their absence.
I wonder too how many more analogies the water will grant me. Watching the little golden fingerling that had managed to wear its colours and grow into a recognisable fish without being spotted, what else might there be in the green shade? What is there in that pond that I cannot see? And why is it that each day I have to find that singular, particular point of focus in order to recognise the shape and movement of the tiny fry? The more often I seek them the easier they are becoming to spot… and as I watch, they grow and make it easier still.
To look deep within yourself and find that still, small space beneath the shifting reflections of the world is not the easiest of things to do at the start either. You know it is there… know there is something, but finding it seems almost impossible until you have once caught a glimpse… and find that the small point of silence is as wide as eternity. It too seems to grow… the more you recognise, the vaster it becomes… and easier to see, everywhere you look. Closer to the surface, in the tiny things of everyday life, the depths are echoed and swim into consciousness, wearing their true colours, reflecting the Light.
Sue Vincent's Daily Echo 
Sue, incredible photos! What a wonderful fish pond! Chryssa
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Thanks, Chryssa, I love watching the life in that pond every day.
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An excellent post
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Thanks, Derrick. Pond watching always seems to start a flow of thought.
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So much from a little water and its inhabitants! I love sitting anywhere near water… It’s calming itself. But watching fish… That’s another story! We used to gave a fix tank and it had the same effect on me, until fish politics started, and they began fighting and eating each other!!! We couldn’t keep up with them!!!
The photos are amazing Sue!
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A fish just looks like a fish… till you start watching and get a feel for their individuality and character… They teach me a lot, those fish. 🙂
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That is so true!!!!
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🙂
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Wow! It really is the little things that make the difference 🙂
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I’ve been trying to convince people of that for years 😉
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I don’t need convincing, so you’re safe there 🙂
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Lol!
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That’s a beautiful pond, Sue. Well established and healthy. Far too often they can be badly managed, not a thing of beauty and reflection at all, so yours is good to see.
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The pond was something we created for Nick’s home. It takes a little work to keep it healthy, but not much.. The plants do most of it 🙂
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Nick is very lucky having a mum like you!
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He may not think so when I’ve done being his barber this morning 😉
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Fishes are good. Just love these creatures. Great photo shots!
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Thanks, Sherrie 🙂
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Congratulations on the new little fishes, it is wonderful seeing new life thriving. You have got some fantastic shots there Sue, the colours look so vibrant.
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I felt quite proud watching the babies, I have to say 🙂
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Yes, the fish must bee happy if they are breeding 🙂
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They seem to be… and have me well trained feeding them too 🙂
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But of course! 🙂
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🙂
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Lovely post, Sue. What strikes me most is how nature enriches our lives and patiently, gently teaches us about ourselves when we take the time to sit and observe. The pond sounds wonderful, a perfect place to both reflect and look beneath the surface.
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There is something about still water that invites reflection… and nature always speaks when we listen.
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Sturgeon are pretty aggressive eaters of other fish. Not trying to be a bummer or anything, but the baby koi will not survive long in that situation.
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There is little chance of me getting them into a holding tank… they are too small and the pond to big and deep. The sturgeon do tend to stay in the depths though, and the babies on the surface. My biggest concern is the other fish who feed there and gulp in anything that floats. I’m hoping the thick weed will offer some protection.
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Well, little fish survive somehow, so maybe they’ll be very careful. Nature has her own imperatives.
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She does… and out of the hundreds of eggs that must have been laid, only a few will make it to fish.
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Beautiful photos. Very interesting post.
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Thanks, Michelle.
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Love your analogies… You ‘see’ so much. I love the reflected photos – like looking two places at the same time. 🙂
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Thanks, Eliza. The fact that the big bubble looks rather like an eyeball struck me as off too.
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I used to watch the hatchlings in my son’s tank. I noticed they didn’t swim like bigger fish, but shot about in little spurts. 😀
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Yes they do, don’t they 🙂
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