Death |
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Availing himself of freshly generated energy supplied by the nutritious bodies of juicy, fresh-water shrimp, the ancient fighting fish swam gracefully toward the area of the falls. He had been cunningly catching the brown-banded shrimp, and absentmindedly smashing the semi-brittle exoskeletons with his donut lips, proceeding to swallow the sweet, juicy meat of the crustaceans whole and still semi-live, his favorite way!
He felt the latent need for fresh, moving current after foraging in the still waters at the edge of his calm cove. He did not enjoy fast current, nor its interference with the movement of his elegant, flowing fins, periodically upsetting his balance and throwing him off his intended course. But now he had decided to ignore the inconvenience and explore the area beyond the falls. He had ventured there several times in previous years and had appetizing recollections of a juicy guppy school which lived by a stand of reeds on the opposite side of the falls.
He pushed quickly to the surface close to the rushing, bubbling water beneath the falls and in one quick breath, exhaled and refilled his lung to capacity. Then, his task completed, he darted fast into the water under the falls. Aware of no sound, but being bombarded mercilessly by vibrations from the movement of the falling water, his lateral-line sent signals flashing to his brain from every receptor on his sides. He instinctively understood that the messages signaled no real danger, and his only reaction was one of mild annoyance. The fast-rising bubbles in the rushing water under the falls formed a background of silver sparkles as the brilliant blue and crimson body of the old fish flashed by in a sunbeam.
On he hurried, leaving the turmoil of the falls behind, seeking the slower current toward the edge of the pond. He slowed to a languorous glide upon entering this calmer medium, and his bright eyes began to glisten with avid interest. He could detect guppy spoor. Easily, he glided by the base of the stems of some reeds extending in a thick clump into the mud. He caught a glimpse of reflected color and immediately turned to investigate.
Some months prior, a dark-green, bell-shaped, thick glass object had been jarred from its perch atop a utility pole further up the mountain above the pond, by a falling tree which struck it from its precarious position. Down the mountainside it had tumbled, to come finally to rest in the mud of the pond at the base of a clump of reeds. Snails had kept the dark glass free of growing algae, and the brown-black mud into which the glass bell had fallen formed a mirror-like backing, reflecting a dark, mysterious image of anything in the immediate area.
The old warrior drew nearer. Inside the dark glass he could see the reflection of himself, a sinister sight indeed to his ancient eyes. Instantly, his brain was inundated by inherent instincts from generations of warrior ancestors, telling him to attack this enemy and destroy it immediately.
His temper began to flare, and his color deepened to the depths of shiny blue. Warily, he spread his gill covers wide, and with a slow, deliberate wagging motion, he swayed his body in front of the glass, his flowing fins spread to maximum fullness in a silent threat of brilliant splendor. He did not become excited. He was first angry, then became furious, the more he saw of the intriguing, wagging enemy in the glass; but he was no imbecile - he realized his limitations. He knew from sad experience the futility of a weaponless battle and the frustration that followed. He continued his displaying warily.
Somewhere in the jaded brain of the infuriated old fish there lurked a dim recollection of the sight of his own reflection in a small rounded mirror placed outside his glass jar by the hands of his young owner, years ago. He had not had the capacity to recognize it as himself. He had only felt the same savage instincts to fight and destroy it, and he had tried to no avail to reach the persistent adversary in the mirror. Finally, the mirror had been removed.
The old fighter took another piercing look at his reflection in the glass and flew at it in a fury of flashing fins, breaking off one of his two remaining weapons on the hard surface of the glass bell. He displayed defiantly and surfaced, livid, to hide behind a nearby floating orchid blossom and collect his wits.
Pulsing happily through the sunlit waters of the shallows, the eye-marked guppy swam easily, catching and devouring the dancing bodies in a daphnia school. He felt excited and invigorated by the fresh current near the reeds, having no inkling of the bizarre end fate intended for him. He placidly pushed onward, rounding a turn and appearing from behind the reeds next to a dark green, bell-shaped glass object. Before he could intelligently react, a furious, donut-shaped mouth, stretched to the limits of extension, had engulfed him in a close embrace, enclosing him from his head to the middle of his torso, in a tight, dark prison.
The fighter had turned back from the orchid blossom to spot the astonishing sight of the eye-marked guppy swimming by the glass bell below. With a single unhurried movement, he had gulped a breath of fresh air from the atmosphere above the water and had headed, with furious intent, toward his mistaken enemy. Normally, he was interested only in immature guppies, for full-grown ones were more than a mouthful, being three-fourths his own size; but now his temper was incensed, and he was determined to finish off his foe by the fastest and most rewarding method. He pulled his old muscles to formidable tautness, and with donut-mouth open to astounding proportions, he struck swiftly down and attempted to devour the mistaken enemy of his instincts.
He was surprised to see his foe disappear between his wide-stretched jaws. He felt astonished at his good fortune, and quickly retreated toward the waters beneath the waterfall. The pushing current gave him some trouble for a few seconds, but momentarily he sped away from the rushing water beyond the falls, to return with his burdensome mouthful to his jar in the knee-root of the orchid tree. He pushed his way through the algae crowding the entrance and paused at the back of the jar.
The eye-marked guppy struggled silently in the smothering crush of flesh between the heavy jaws for a second. He felt frantic urges flashing to his brain from the receptors in the lateral-lines on his sides. His gill covers had been flattened tightly against the sides of his head by the pressure against them. His oxygen supply had been dissipated by his swimming movements of a few seconds earlier. He made a futile effort to wrench himself from inside the tight-stretched maw, but neither could he move forward nor back. He quieted as the contractions of his heart pumped the starving blood through his veins and felt no fright as he painlessly expired.
The ruby-red eye in the center of the guppy's tail, which was hanging gracefully down in a wide, flowing triangle in front of the old fighter's head, slowly began to fade to a soft, old maroon. Contentedly, the ancient fish settled on the glass bottom of his gallon jar and relaxed to enjoy a pleasureful rest. He felt marvelously satiated at last, for the juices were flowing freely in his digestive system, and he could distinguish the first taste of guppy.
He breathed shallowly with his gills, but was oblivious of the fact that the last residue of oxygen had left his lung, also, and he would not receive enough through his gills to sustain him. As sleep overcame him, a crab watched from the other side of the glass, and bore mute witness to the fact that the donut lips of the old fellow were stretched by the snug-fitting body of the guppy into the closest resemblance to a smile as had ever appeared on the countenance of the old betta. He died, contented, in his slumber.
(c) 1993 Carson Clippard