Hey, this is pretty sweet. A nice large pond in beautiful Washington Township, New Jersey. Pretty idyllic. Other koi swim by, their coloring unique, and their bellies full from the supporting aquatic life.
The humans stroll around, sit on benches and talk, or play their sporting contests. We share an uncomplicated co-existence, enjoying the tranquility and the sounds of our avian friends.
We, in the pond, float and scavenge. Our own little United Nations. Ducks, turtles, geese, anything that chooses to swim in harmony.
People stop by to admire nature at its simplest. Humans are cute. The tall ones, short ones, young ones, old ones. Somehow navigating on just two limbs. I wonder how they breathe. I don’t see any gills.
Anyway, we have quite the human assortment: families, singles pensive or carefree, I even saw a writers’ group a few weeks ago, carrying their notepads and chatting away.
Hey, there’s a family coming now. Looks like a mother, father, daughter, and son. The prefect American shoal. The mother and daughter find a spot on the grass and point at the wildlife before them.
The father and son walk away toward the trees near where I’m circling. The father says something to the son, and they both pull at their pants.
Oh, no. Not that. Hey, buddy, there are rest rooms a little farther down. Hey, we don’t pee in your pool! Ewwww, the father just hit Lenny with his stream. Right in the snout. Poor guy, he just moved here from Philly last week.
The father’s pointing while talking to his son. He’s proud of his distance, like an Olympic shot putter.
I’ll teach him not to befoul our pond. I’ll just swim over there and give him a piece of my mind. I navigate close to the edge and splash the pair. There take that!
UH, OH, the son almost fell in the water, rescued by a yank from his father, who is still performing his business one-handed.
The father’s foot lands in the water. You deserve that, buddy. He pulls out his muddy appendage, yells what must be an obscenity, and picks up a rock. He flings it and it misses me by an inch.
The father zips up and bends over again for another projectile. He picks up goose poop, an unexpected result from the look on his face.
I surface and chortle. The father raises one hand, and with it, it seems, does an impersonation of a bird in flight.
A sparrow flies over and splatters him with that white gunk they somehow emit.
My other koi friends have seen this last interaction. We laugh and swim away. Not a bad day after all.
The humans stroll around, sit on benches and talk, or play their sporting contests. We share an uncomplicated co-existence, enjoying the tranquility and the sounds of our avian friends.
We, in the pond, float and scavenge. Our own little United Nations. Ducks, turtles, geese, anything that chooses to swim in harmony.
People stop by to admire nature at its simplest. Humans are cute. The tall ones, short ones, young ones, old ones. Somehow navigating on just two limbs. I wonder how they breathe. I don’t see any gills.
Anyway, we have quite the human assortment: families, singles pensive or carefree, I even saw a writers’ group a few weeks ago, carrying their notepads and chatting away.
Hey, there’s a family coming now. Looks like a mother, father, daughter, and son. The prefect American shoal. The mother and daughter find a spot on the grass and point at the wildlife before them.
The father and son walk away toward the trees near where I’m circling. The father says something to the son, and they both pull at their pants.
Oh, no. Not that. Hey, buddy, there are rest rooms a little farther down. Hey, we don’t pee in your pool! Ewwww, the father just hit Lenny with his stream. Right in the snout. Poor guy, he just moved here from Philly last week.
The father’s pointing while talking to his son. He’s proud of his distance, like an Olympic shot putter.
I’ll teach him not to befoul our pond. I’ll just swim over there and give him a piece of my mind. I navigate close to the edge and splash the pair. There take that!
UH, OH, the son almost fell in the water, rescued by a yank from his father, who is still performing his business one-handed.
The father’s foot lands in the water. You deserve that, buddy. He pulls out his muddy appendage, yells what must be an obscenity, and picks up a rock. He flings it and it misses me by an inch.
The father zips up and bends over again for another projectile. He picks up goose poop, an unexpected result from the look on his face.
I surface and chortle. The father raises one hand, and with it, it seems, does an impersonation of a bird in flight.
A sparrow flies over and splatters him with that white gunk they somehow emit.
My other koi friends have seen this last interaction. We laugh and swim away. Not a bad day after all.