Helloooo, Mr. Wilson!

People being people, and unable to leave anything alone, “they” have put a fountain in our pond.

It is a beautiful little pond that I have written about before. When I sit to write it is directly outside my window; 10 or so acres, spring fed, an overflow creek on the far side. The people who owned the land before it was “suburbanized” stocked the pond with perch, bass (some of which are as long as my forearm), and other fish that are too smart to ever get pulled out. One such of that sort are a dozen or so carp that Pooky-Bear bought and had me unnaturally introduce because some guy at work told her they would eat algae and help keep the pond clean. Well, the pond is no cleaner. The surface does manufacture a thin layer of algae in the hottest times of summer, but despite the fact that those carp have grown two feet long now, the pond still gathers about the same amount of algae every year. As a boy will acquire dirt in summer, I suppose algae is part of being a pond. I like the carp though. They really have gotten huge, and will occasionally surface, rolling in the sun, their fins raised like sharks. If you startle them they turn with such power that you would think someone had thrown in a cinder block. They will not bite a line, but I see them, and sometimes the predator in me is tempted to get a bow and arrow, but I do not. Pook is touchy about her animals. That might not play well.

For several years there were two Swedish Blues on the pond, domestic ducks, easily spotted amongst the mallards and gadwalls by their larger size. Now there is only one. Pook put them in, too (or should I say had me do it). Occasionally one would disappear and Pook would have to drive to what we refer to as “Duck Holler” to purchase another for company, but I finally convinced her to stop. The one seems happy enough swimming with the wood-ducks mallards, and not at all lonesome.

There is a Great Blue Heron who fishes constantly, even under the midnight moonlight, and who drives away other invasive blue herons and egrets. Their slow motion, airborne battles are amazing to watch as they drift over the pond in pursuit of one another like giant kites, and then there are smaller green herons who watch it all disinterestedly. There is a kingfisher who also watches from the surrounding branches, chit-chit-chitting at them as they swoosh by as though he were manning a machine gun. There is a red-shouldered hawk hunting frogs and snakes, and an osprey who dives after turtles, or perch, and there is a pair of owls who take over for them at night.

Deer come for the corn that Pooky puts out for her duck, along with skunks, possum, raccoons, and muskrats. Even the turtles, some twenty pounders, venture from the water for a nibble of corn. It all happened outside my window as I type, only now there is only a fountain.

The fountain is three days old, and isn’t really pretty. It is too small for the size of the pond, and is too near the south end. It has an angry roar that bellows below it’s cascading water, which I imagine frightens the fish. There have been no wild ducks since it was installed, and I have not seen the heron. The deer still come because they must, but even the young fishermen seem to have been at least temporarily discouraged by the new monstrosity. I have considered complaining, but assume mine would be the lone dissenting voice, as the others around the pond have probably never even noticed the osprey diving on a grey, gloomy morn, or heard a carp turn in the darkest of night. They have never stood on the porch at three in the morning and watched as the blue heron, shadowed by moonlight, pulls a fish from the inky shoreline and dooms it down an outstretched neck. No, they probably think the fountain pretty.

But I am not the type to stand idly by, so I have convinced my dog, General Sherman, to run for President of the neighborhood Home Owner’s Association. He is the only one who could win, as he is insanely popular, while I am notoriously stand-offish, and Pook too demanding.

Unfortunately The General has not shown much interest in the fountain one way or the other, as there is a pretty new doodle-dog across the pond who has caught his eye. It may seem shallow, but I think I will follow his lead. A fountain is a small thing in the grand scheme, and there are bigger worries, as I now see that the neighbors have bought kayaks for their young boys… ugh.