Tuesday, March 22, 2016

Dead Fish

Feeding the fish
We go to Nimbus Fish Hatchery often to feed the fish. The last time, we watched the informative film playing on a loop in the visitors center. I learned a fish hatchery's purpose is to compensate for the fish population depleted by dams, and that fish are born in the river, swim all the way out to the ocean where they live for two years, and then swim back to the place they were born to lay eggs. The main fish harvested at Nimbus is Rainbow trout. Because rainbow trout die after laying their eggs and fertilizing eggs, the hatchery has a no nonsense approach to retrieving the eggs and inseminating them. The fish jump up a ladder to get back to the hatchery when they're ready to lay their eggs, and then get sorted out by male/female and size. The females get their belly sliced open, and all the eggs wiped form their insides. This couldn't have been timed better with me having to explain to her a c-section the day before. Then the eggs are squirted with male sperm. The fish are then sent away to a food processing center in Seattle.
Kiki was on the edge of her seat during the entire film.
Afterward she had lots of questions, and she met the perfect person to talk to. He was a holds no bars ranger, who looked like he recently achieved his Eagle Scouts badge. We looked at a calico Chinook Salmon in a tank, and Kiki asked, where are her parents. Straight faced, he said, "Her parents are dead. This type of fish dies after laying their eggs."
Her brow furrowed, and she decided not to fight him on this. She let me know he was full of bull, when we were in the lanes feeding the fish. She'd throw pellets in the water and the fish would do sudden acrobatics, resembling a bunch of slashing silver machetes. She said, "There's the baby, and there is her mom and the dad and her brother." pointing to fish in the water.
George spent most of this time trying to catch birds that looked like they were cooked up in a Stephen King novel; tiny, shiny, black birds with yellow daemonic eyes. He only came close to pouncing on one once. H eventually gave up, and I didn't need to rely on scare tactics, which could have gone so far as shouting, "Don't touch those rabies infested creatures, they'll peck your eyes out."

We were playing in the backyard today and Kiki came up to me holding a little squishy toy with prickles. She said, "Meet my friend, Urchin. Her parents are dead."
"Poor Urchin."
She wandered off, and I sat in the sun, unclear if there is something I should say. I'm much better with coming up with ways to prevent death, rather than explaining it.

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