The Pond Is Back to Normal

So strangely, a few weeks ago, as we were getting into the coronavirus life, I noticed a foul smell coming from my pond out front. This means a fish kill, which has happened several times over the years -- when the power is out and the aerator shuts off. Typically the koi would die off, and the smaller cichlids and hearty plecos would survive. The last time it happened was after Hurricane Irma -- the power was off a good 10 days, and I had to buy new koi. The raccoons and other scavengers took care of the fish corpses...

This time, though, the aerator was fine. The older, larger plecos were dying. I counted a total of 6 of them. I assumed there was some disease that affected only them. Once again, the scavengers took care of the carrion.  One am I saw one of the fish floating, fileted as if done by a human. It was pretty impressive.

For about a week after, the water didn't look so great. The fish seemed sluggish -- schooled together in a shady part of the pond, near the papyrus plants that grow on the western bank. The foul smell lessened, but the pond was still sickly. There wasn't anything for me to do but hope nature healed the little world out front.  Nature worked.

Today I was outside, and the water was crystal clear. I fed the fish -- they swam happily and rapidly. And, happiest of all, several of the plecos survived. One attached his sucker to the shell of a passing turtle -- cleaning his pondmate's shell. It was lovely.

I always enjoy sitting by the pond, watching the microcosm it is. The bubbling of the air stone is relaxing. Butterflies, and rarely, hummingbirds fly over.

We had some lime green iguanas, and I hadn't seen them in awhile. Today a younger one darted around.

I was sitting there alone, and was joined by an even more exotic animal. A black and white furry creature, about 16 pounds, ambled his way over the stone bridge, joining me in the shade of an overhanging ficus. He was the crippled Spaniel, Bo, and I hoisted him to my lap, and we sat for a good, long while.

He lifted his adorable little head, and enjoyed a cool breeze. It was lovely.

I hope our world follows the example of my pond -- the killer virus passes, and we can heal. I truly hope that comes sooner than later.