The horrah

The fish care person at the LNFU bought some more critters for the tank behind my desk recently, including a pleco who spends the day nibbling his way around, some snails, and a couple of tiny frogs. One of the frogs died right away and I didn't see the other for so long that I assumed he had died as well. But then he made an appearance at feeding time and I figured he was just timid.

Last week, I turned around to find the danios dragging the frog around the tank by hig legs at top speed, and occasionally engaging in a gruesome tug-of-war. I figured the frog was dead but I wasn't sure if the danios were eating him, and if they were, if it was safe for them to eat him. So I called a couple of students over. At which point I realized Sir Froggy was alive. 

This is why I don't watch nature programs. Everyone's getting along on the plains in Africa and then something cute gets gored by an elephant or eaten alive while its family watches. I know nature is cruel. I don't need the visuals.

Anyway, I got over my squeamishness about sticking my bare hands in the tank and dipped a plastic box full of water and frog. One of the students helped me set up a separate tank for him in another part of the lab. We gave him some plants and a rock and an air supply and some worms. He was dead by nightfall.

Over the weekend my favorite fish, Stu the misanthropic darter, swam under the rainbow bridge. Stu'd always had a forlorn look in his eyes. 

It got forlorner when one of them swelled up about a week ago. 

But at least he'd had a good long life.