Fish Story (long)

Fat_Ed · #1 10/05/2007, 01:59 PM

About three months ago our jawfish, Terrence, was impaled his left eye, probably by an urchin spine. The wound became terribly infected, and for over six weeks it was touch-and-go as to whether he would live. Thankfully, he continued to eat and Katie and I were able to nurse him back to health by hand-feeding him. However, his eye tissue shriveled into a small cloudy teardrop, leaving him half-blind. Jawfish have giant eyes, and are among the most observant fish you’ll ever meet. In the wild they spend 99% of their life tucked in a sandy burrow with their heads periscoping out to follow the action. For an already paranoid fish, this loss of half his field of vision must have been hell. He retreated deeper into his burrow like a crazed hermit, and peered out miserably with his one good eye.

This was Terrence’s sorry state when our pair of Bangaii Cardinalfish, whom a friend of mine dubbed the “Irish Twins,” decided to deliver unto us the second mouthful of fry of the summer. Only four this time (as opposed to 18 the last), but they caught us in a 2 a.m. state of unreadiness, and we were only able to corral three of them. The fourth swam into a crevice near Terrence’s cave and flitted about mockingly at our efforts to net him. Resorting to shock-and-awe tactics, I tried to blow him out with a turkey baster, but he hunkered down and rode out the storm.

To Terrence’s credit, he greeting this next plague of violence upon his head with fire and grit, biting ferociously at the net, spitting sand at my hand, and eventually forcing me to retreat with an empty net. Perhaps sensing an ally in this freakish but seemingly benign creature, the newborn inched ever closer to Terrence’s burrow and, in a matter of days, was fearlessly swimming within kissing distance of the giant jawfish’s mottled toady lips.

Observing the effect this young companion has had on Terrence’s behavior has been equal parts amazement and delight. He became his old self again, extending his upper body fearlessly into the water column, and watching the goings-on outside the tank with the resumed interest of one who has been away from TV for many weeks. The baby card favors swimming parallel to Terrence’s blind eye, like a miniature X-wing fighter escorting a starcruiser. Proof positive that this was not a one-sided crush arrived yesterday. Terrence, engaged in his favorite preoccupation, cleaning and widening his burrow, emerged with a heavy mouthful of sand. Generally, he will just spit the contents as far away from him with as much velocity as his muscular jaws can offer. Or, better yet, directly at our ever-inquisitive maroon clownfish, Joe, if he is in the vicinity. Yet this time, he noted the baby card swimming directly in front of him, and instead turned 90 degrees and puffed the sand gently to the side. The card hovered in position, undisturbed, while Terrence continued his housekeeping.

To call mutual affection something else out of respect for scientific method seems a worthless exercise in reductionism. My current hypothesis, for what it’s worth, is that a symbiotic relationship has developed whereby the baby card acts as a seeing-eye dog to Terrence, alerting him to possible dangers in his blind spot through water vibrations. In return, the baby card (christened "Felix") feels safer from possible predators. Whether or not this is true, or even provable, I will exercise my preference to continue to think of them as affectionate companions. Friends. Friendship is many things, but perhaps its most blessed offering is the comfort of being able to let down your guard and enjoy the fruits of life. And that is exactly what I am witnessing.

That such a curious friendship could form in a cube in my living room is such a quirky nugget of life-affirming treasure that I thought I would share it with my fellow reefers. Hopefully it will set the mood for your weekend.

And as if all this weren’t enough, we think a third litter of cardinalfish might be on the way.