Another One that Got Away

November 2, 2009

Things you expect to see in a field: sheep, cows, a farmer, grass …

Things you don’t expect to see in a field:
fish_out_of_water

A large fish. A brown trout, to be precise.

Some context may be helpful here. It had started raining last evening, it had rained more or less all night, and all morning and it was still raining, albeit more lightly. Having been stuck in the house for most of this, I was out with a stick poking at the drains to clear the flooding on the road, which is my new favourite hobby (it’s the giant slurping plughole noise, I think). Having just cleared out the worst of the blockages, I looked into the field on the downhill side of the road and saw the fish.

My second thought (my first thought was ‘must blog this’) was to get someone else to come and see. The other half was out – and very miffed when he got back to discover that he could have had trout instead of leek and cheese pie for his supper – so I went up to the big house to get our landlady. She instantly recognised it as one of her fish (well, you would, wouldn’t you) escaped from the ponds in the grounds and which had presumably been swimming around happily in the road* until I came along with my interfering town ways. We got a bucket and scooped up Barry (the Brown Trout), as I shall not be naming him, and returned him to the pond with a cry of ‘be free, Barry, be free!’ whereupon he lay on his side gasping pathetically. It was never like this on Flipper, I tell you. I waded out and pushed him free of the weed and into deeper water and after a while he righted himself and swam away to our relief. Sadly, Barry, shall now probably be hooked out of the pond at the earliest opportunity by the son of the house – country folk haven’t a sentimental bone in their bodies – but I will have done my best.

Anyway, what with the airborne slugs, and land-based fish, it’s probably lucking we’re heading east for a week now. Lord knows what tomorrow would have had in store…

*Imagine explaining that one to the fishing police if you’d run it over…