Pygmy Sunfish

I won six Banded Pygmy Sunfish at the last club meeting. I've got them in a 10 gallon with a sponge filter and some Cabomba. These natives hail from the still lake/bog waters of southern Arkansas. Wild caught fish often need live food until they can be weaned on to processed food like flake. I find it ironic that I'm weaning my fish onto processed food and weaning my body off the same.

Winter keeps the easy-come, easy-go of harvesting insects from the yard out of the question and somebody burned down my red wiggler farm. I've taken to feeding frozen blood worms. I toss a cube in a cup of warm water and use a wooden chopstick to feed a few at a time.

To simulate life, I tap the floating worms and the Pyg's strike. If the bait is dead but the fish strike with the intent take the bait's life, is it still murder? Was it really ever?

This method of feeding almost one-at-a-time is truly feeding only what will be eaten, an axiom among aquarists. It proves to be an intimate observation of fish behaviour as well.

I've put off posting the latest obituaries. The tank that held the fish survivors from the duplex fire was running at my grandparents house. On Thanksgiving I installed a heater and on Christmas it malfunctioned and cooked them. Four GloDanio's survived. I broke down the 30 gallon and brought it home to the fish room.

This prompted a decision. I didn't plan to incorporate this tank into the floor plan. I chose to take the 55 gallon tank to the next club auction and use the space for several smaller tanks. I all ready have three large tanks and I'm finding the smaller the fish, the more interesting it is.

With another tank running, I moved the Goldfish from the 5 ga to the 30, the Killie pair from a 10 to the 5, and dropped the Danio's into the now empty 1o.

The Killie female looked and acted battered. I'd been keeping them in a tank without hiding places and with poor lighting. I failed to notice the male had been keeping her from eating. I found her stuck to the filter intake a few days later. The male sure is colorful, though.

Of course, all this rearranging left some water on the new tile floor. I realized this as I felt the familiar sensation of wet cold capillary action permeating my socks. Ah, wet socks.