:: OP-ED

Fish out of water?

Shekhar Bhatia

Nov.06 : What is it about fish that fascinates the young and old? And why is it so restful to watch them swimming in a pond or an aquarium?

We have a small outdoor pond, four feet either way, with some golden Koi carp in it, and quite often when visitors come to our house they stop near the pond and say, "Oh, you have fish in it". A child once asked me if I had a seahorse. He had never seen one in real life.

The first time I saw a seahorse was in the Taraporewala Aquarium on Marine Drive in Mumbai. I was very young, and captivated by it. Years later, I visited the aquarium in Kolkata with my son but it was so dirty and pathetic that even the few fish that were there looked listless and morose.  

When I bought my first indoor aquarium (I say first because I have been through a few), I casually asked the shopkeeper if he had seahorses. He just laughed. Seahorses are delicate, saltwater creatures; they require special tanks that are very expensive, and need a lot of looking after. In short, they are not for the novice. I recently read about a book on seahorses called Poseidon’s Steed: The Story of Seahorses From Myth to Reality by Helen Scales, a marine biologist. She has a fascinating description of the sex life of seahorses and how the male gets pregnant. They are also monogamous.

My pond is low-cost, low-maintenance and has a dozen carp in it, an inexpensive, hardy variation of its look-alike, the goldfish. I like to believe the whole effect is Japanese though minimalist would be more appropriate. Japanese garden ponds are intricate and more like art; every pebble merges with nature.

I built my pond because I like water; what’s more, I like the sound of running water. Late in the evening, when the traffic outside the house ceases, the sound of water fills your ears. It’s a nice, soothing feeling.

I put a green mesh over the pond because the leaves from the surrounding trees would fall into it and I would have to clean it every two weeks, which was quite a hassle. Then there was the kingfisher. I would often see it perched on a tree directly above the pond — a beautiful turquoise blue and chocolate-brown bird. It’s easy to spot those brilliant colours on a tree.

I was so fascinated by it that I went out and bought a bird book, A Photographic Guide to the Birds of India. My birdwatcher friend tells me it’s a white-throated kingfisher — also called white-breasted — and in fact quite common in this part of the world. I have actually seen it swoop down into the pond, catch a three-inch fish, and fly off to the perch with the catch in its beak — all in a matter of maybe five seconds. I wouldn’t stop the bird because that’s the law of nature. It stopped coming regularly when I put the mesh over the pond to catch the falling leaves.

When I go near the pond in the morning to switch on the water pump, the fish surge to the surface, expecting food. Contrary to popular belief that fish have a three-second memory, research has revealed that some may even have long-term memory. An example: Salmon return to the same stream they were born in during mating season. If they did not have memory, how could they make this journey? Goldfish have a memory span of up to three months. If fish did not have memory, how come Omega 3, a fat found in fish oil and prescribed to humans, is considered to be good for memory? 

Come November in Delhi, the water starts to turn cold and the fish in the pond become lethargic. They frolic in the water only when the rays of the sun reach the pond and water becomes a bit warm. I have no idea when they eat the pellets that are tossed into the water in the morning because I never see them near the surface in winter. They lie still at the bottom.

I know only the strong ones will survive the winter. Last year, just two lived. This happens every year since I built the pond. Every March or April, I go to the aquarium shop to replace the fish that have died. And every time I ask the shopkeeper if they will survive the winter. He says they are hardy cold-water fish. "They will survive even in freezing temperatures", he says. I know this is his sales spiel.

The option now is to let the fish stay in the pond and keep my fingers crossed that they don’t freeze to death — or remove the mesh and expose them to the kingfisher. Within days this predator will consume most of the fish in my pond. 

My household tells me they have seen the pandubbia (vernacular for kingfisher) and have also heard its cackling call. Maybe it knows it’s that time of year again and I will soon lift the mesh. At least the kingfisher will have a feast and it won’t prick my conscience.

Shekhar Bhatia can be contacted at shekhar.bhatia@gmail.com