Next time I buy fish, if I ever buy anymore, I am going to get 4 different colors. This way, when I do a head check at feeding time, I can get an accurate count of who has survived since the last check.
Last week, while counting heads during the morning feeding, I counted only 3 fish. Over the weekend, I discovered I was wrong.
Once again, I am a good fish mother.
The two yellow fish and one orange come to the top almost immediately when they see me standing there with their fish food bag in hand, leading me to believe I only had three survivors.
They would grab a morsel, then dash to the bottom. Then repeat. Except, unbeknownst to me, the orange fish would take turns returning to the surface.
During the evening feeding, which was more like the late afternoon, while the three regulars fed, in the bright sunlight, I spotted the 4th fish on the bottom patiently waiting for an opening. One orange went down, the other came up.
With my frayed mothering nerve almost healed, I noticed today that Gemma, my great white (and black) hunter, sitting-pond side gazing longingly into the depths.
I made what I thought was a convincing threat on her life, only to find her a few minutes later sitting on the other side of the pond, contemplating her dining choices – fish, or fowl, fowl or fish.
I sighed, and hoped for survival of the fittest.