Sometimes there are moments that just make you glad you got into the hobby and made the choices you did. I think it would be nice to see some of those gathered together in one place for when we need a moment of inspiration. So, here are two to get us going, and I welcome you all to add some others.
1. -After rehousing all of my fish, and really worrying that I stressed everyone out last week, I sat down on the floor in front of the tank to check things out. (It's a 56 g column on a homemade stand designed to place the top of the tank at armpit height so I can clean it with both feet on the ground.) I am observing the new arrangement and trying to see everyone to check out coloring and fin-hold placement, etc. and every single one of the fish comes over to the space right in front of the glass and just kindof stays in the general area for a few minutes while I checked them out. They pretty much stayed there for about twenty minutes until I leaned back, after which they all drifted back to their chosen haunts. The yellow watchman and one of the neons share a cave formed largely by the front glass and essentially got to play host to everyone in their yard during the party. They were very gracious about the intrusion. I felt a bit like a cleaner shrimp or neon goby myself after that episode.
2. Fish, like any other pet or housemate have a tendancy to beg, and most often for food, but they will also tell you when something is not quite right. My Royal Gramma is always working on convincing me that he is more of a housemate than a pet. He's casual about asking for food, letting the clown Gobies and Chromies lead the choir when I walk through my front door, unlike my cat, who prefers I feed her first and drop my groceies and shrug out of my coat last.
A couple months ago (more or less) he is being very adamant compared to usual amidst the chaos of the rest bubbling about. He'd come over to the normal feeding zone and dive straight down about about 10 inches and make two or three loops, then return to his own harbor on the opposite end of the tank. Then come back again and repeat the cycle. He did this several times until everyone was fed. When he did it again after everyone else was back to their normal routine, I pulled out the test kits- nothing amiss. Then I noticed/realized he was tapping the thermometer before he dove, and diving straight down along its length. I retested the temp and everything was fine. I unplugged the thermometer and he settled right down. It had burned out in the off position, and I had no shock playing in the tank, but something was off enough that he knew I needed to do something. I was very glad I had both the Gramma and a two thermometer policy. :lightbulb:
1. -After rehousing all of my fish, and really worrying that I stressed everyone out last week, I sat down on the floor in front of the tank to check things out. (It's a 56 g column on a homemade stand designed to place the top of the tank at armpit height so I can clean it with both feet on the ground.) I am observing the new arrangement and trying to see everyone to check out coloring and fin-hold placement, etc. and every single one of the fish comes over to the space right in front of the glass and just kindof stays in the general area for a few minutes while I checked them out. They pretty much stayed there for about twenty minutes until I leaned back, after which they all drifted back to their chosen haunts. The yellow watchman and one of the neons share a cave formed largely by the front glass and essentially got to play host to everyone in their yard during the party. They were very gracious about the intrusion. I felt a bit like a cleaner shrimp or neon goby myself after that episode.
2. Fish, like any other pet or housemate have a tendancy to beg, and most often for food, but they will also tell you when something is not quite right. My Royal Gramma is always working on convincing me that he is more of a housemate than a pet. He's casual about asking for food, letting the clown Gobies and Chromies lead the choir when I walk through my front door, unlike my cat, who prefers I feed her first and drop my groceies and shrug out of my coat last.
A couple months ago (more or less) he is being very adamant compared to usual amidst the chaos of the rest bubbling about. He'd come over to the normal feeding zone and dive straight down about about 10 inches and make two or three loops, then return to his own harbor on the opposite end of the tank. Then come back again and repeat the cycle. He did this several times until everyone was fed. When he did it again after everyone else was back to their normal routine, I pulled out the test kits- nothing amiss. Then I noticed/realized he was tapping the thermometer before he dove, and diving straight down along its length. I retested the temp and everything was fine. I unplugged the thermometer and he settled right down. It had burned out in the off position, and I had no shock playing in the tank, but something was off enough that he knew I needed to do something. I was very glad I had both the Gramma and a two thermometer policy. :lightbulb:
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