We have a pond in our back garden. It's not a big pond - it only contains 9 goldfish and a couple of frogs (we did have 10 fish but one died from some dreadful fishy disease soon after we bought them).
Yesterday, Chris, my partner, went into the utility room and shouted to me, 'What's happened to the pond?'. When I looked, all the pond weed and the lily pads covering the surface of the water had been pulled out and were floating, limply and pathetically, whilst the fish were nowhere to be seen.
Upon closer investigation, it appeared most likely that some creature, probably a heron, had been attempting to attack the fish, who were all now lying low on the bottom of the pond, probably scared witless (not that fish have all that many wits!).
I was incensed. I felt like a mother must feel when her children are being attacked. I know that it's only 'nature red in tooth and claw' and all that, but we bought the fish as little tiny tiddlers and, over the last 2 or 3 years, they have grown - big, strong and handsome. I couldn't be prouder if I'd given birth to them myself.
I did offer to sit by the pond, with a shotgun, on the revolving chair from the office (defending my territory and my young 'uns), but it's raining buckets this morning and we don't actually have a shotgun. Only a starting pistol. So I've settled for a huge, green tarpaulin draped over a ladder across the pond instead.
Now I'm off to Homebase for some seriously heavy-duty mesh... I'll teach that heron not to mess with me and mine!
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