Atlantic Ave Magazine - April 2017

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MISC ║ HUMOR
When Moving Make Sure
Your Fish Isn’t a Jumper
By K.M. Forsyth
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What? You read it right folks. I’m going to give you a very good reason
why you should make sure your tropical fish are not jumpers.
When we bought the tinfoil barbs they
were small, shiny, silver, diamond shaped
fish. Then they grew, and grew and grew,
until they were 6 to 8 inches long. We had
made the classic mistake most fish tank
owners make. We bought fish without research.
Not only were they big, they were
fast. When they weren’t terrifying the
other fish in the tank with their speed, they
were, well, eating them.
They were incredibly high strung for
fish. Every time I would turn the dining
room lights on or off they would either try
to jump, whacking themselves on the tank
canopy, or they would bang into the glass
wall of the tank.
Well it was time to move from the condo
to our house in suburbia. We called
my brother, who had a truck, and my best
friend Karen to help us move the fish a few
days before Moving Day.
I thought I had thought of everything.
We had laid a tarp in the floor in front of
the tank (in case of spillage) and had a
clean cooler, fishnets, and a siphoning
hose. I siphoned off about half of the water
into the cooler, and then proceeded to try
and net the fish. The surviving small fish
were pretty easy, but the big fast fish took
a bit more work. Finally, I caught one. I
lifted it free of the tank and, much to my
shock, it leapt from the net and fortunately
landed in the cooler.
My shriek of alarm brought the troops to
attention. Now of course the same shriek
must have frightened the leaping fish because
it jumped straight out of the cooler
and came nose to fishy eyeball with me. I
yelled again and slammed the cooler lid
shut just as it hit the water again.
My brother and husband were laughing
so hard that they were rendered incapable
of helping. Karen however knew the real
difficulties were just beginning. There
were three more Tinfoil Barbs in the tank,
and when we took the lid off the cooler the
fish inside was gonna jump again.
With Karen manning the lid I managed
to net each of the remaining fish in turn,
Karen would yank open the lid so I could
literally toss the fish in and she would try
to slam it shut again before the fish inside
tried to escape. And all the time my brother
and husband were laughing and Karen
and I would scream at every unexpected
fish movement.
The last fish was ready to go in.
Karen lifted the lid. I tossed the
fish. As Karen slammed the lid down one of
the fish made a last ditch effort and jumped.
The timing was bad; Karen basically batted
the fish back into the cooler with the lid.
And of course I was screaming.
My brother looked at me and said, “Aren’t
you going to check to make sure that fish is
ok?”
I gave him my best “Are you nuts?” look.
I broke all the rules of safe fish transport
and eventually resorted to just pouring the
whole cooler, water and fish and everything
into the newly set up tank at the new
house. I just couldn’t face netting the little
buggers again. Surprisingly we all survived
with only emotional scars to show for the
whole adventure.
124 April 2017 | www.AtlanticAveMagazine.com