Carping on

There is a pair of large carp, I think they are koi, that have lived in the deep part of Hanging Rock Creek, just to the south of our bridge, for a long time. They are well known to locals, who mention the big carp from time to time. We'd seen them occasionally, usually when we've had a long dry spell and the water in the creek flows clear. One of these great fish is a golden colour, the other mostly white. But we hadn't seen them for a long time, maybe all year. On the odd occasions that I thought about them, I'd guessed that they had left that part of the creek, swimming downstream to somewhere they had decided was more liveable. But on Sunday afternoon I saw them. Together, this piscean long-term couple, slowly swimming about in the late afternoon sunshine. It's hard not to feel a little in awe of them, actually. And I'm probably being very anthropomorphic and projecting human qualities on to them. I'm sure I am, actually. But how wonderful to see them. Together. I wondered about how they manage to stay in this stretch of the creek during big floods, when millions of litres of chocolate brown water flows ferociously, spilling out over the banks and flattening grasses, reeds, shrubs and trees. When do they sense that the big waters are coming? How long do they have until they seek shelter perhaps in an eroded under-bank or underneath a great log? The ecologist in me of course categorises them as feral. They shouldn't be here. And just this Saturday I'd picked up a bottle of Charlie Carp fertilizer, made from the crushed up bodies of European carp, and thought how wonderful it was that a useful product had been made from such an ecological disaster. And then I imagine the creek without this pair of old carp. And I think it will have lost part of its story.