The Great Fish Rescue

One Friday night when strolling by the village pond, Diz heard a sigh.

"Who was that? From whence came that sound?

Wait! Listen! It's on the ground ..."

"No it's from the pond" he said as Janet joined him to investigate the rasp, rasp,

... a sound like a rusty hasp.

They looked in horror as flapping row upon flapping row of desperate fish with mouths agape rose to the surface from the tiny, murky pool

that once was magnificent, clear, and full.

"Gasp! Gasp! Gasp! Gasp!" (That was the sound like the rusty hasp)

as they tried to fill their gills with air.

Air? From where? Well, anywhere but in the five centimetres of muddy puddle where for life and oxygen they'd had to struggle.

Just then, the Wright-hand man, John, hove into view with dog in tow.

"What's up you two? Why so blue?"

"The fish are dying!" "They need water." "They need air." "They'll die if we cannot fill this pond or move them to a better place."

Said John, "Yes, it'll be a race. I'll do something. Don't despair."

So John, in waders, stepped (with bucket and net), into the pond the fish to get.

He netted 10, 20, 50, 60, more as the puddle got muddier than before.

Stella then took over, staring into the murky shallows and rescued 4, 6, 10 –

the total rose 70, 80, 100 and still more, until at last the net drew blank –

all were rescued, just in time from that slippery mud and smelly slime.

As each fish sucked in oxygen and gladly slipped into the buckets of clean water they were heard to sigh ...

"Thank you Diz, Janet, John and Stella for answering our desperate cry."

Alison Finnemore, 15th August 2009