vendredi 23 avril 2010

Fish fry Fryday!

My beautiful baby ghost


I knew there had to be hatchlings -- "fry" in English, or "alevins" in French -- in there, since I have seen the females swollen with eggs and the males chasing them around, nudging their sides to get them to release those riches in future spawn, and I just saw the first set of eyeballs on an eyelash (I didn't make that up myself) darting from the algae at the edge of the basin toward the middle.



Which deepens my suspicion of what the fish have really been doing these last few days: gathering around the groups of fertilized eggs, eating the fry as they emerge.

The Annual Homeowners' Association Fish Fry!

Now I know how I am going to spend way too much of my time today, wearing my Indiana Jones red gardening hat against the sun: watching my fish-pond-in-a-fountain's answer to Survivor. It's a Darwinian life.


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