October 2012 Trail Head Editorial
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October 2012 Trail Head Editorial
Grit & DeterminationYears ago and for reasons I can’t remember, my wife brought home some aquatic frogs and a goldfish from the 4th grade science class she taught. The frogs were weird little things that never touched solid ground and swam alongside the goldfish in a 10-gallon aquarium. I was in charge of feeding them. The fish ate fish food. The frogs ate little cubes of frozen blood worms. Soon the goldfish discovered it liked blood worms. And no matter how many fish flakes I fed it to sate its hunger, whenever I dropped the worms in the tank the fish ate nearly all of them before the emaciated frogs got any. After a year the goldfish had grown huge from all the protein-rich worms, and I had grown annoyed at the feeding-time hassle. I scooped up the fish, dropped him in the toilet, and flushed it. But as the water swirled that little sucker spun around and swam for all he was worth against the current. As the water calmed and the bowl filled back up, there he was. I shook my head in disbelief, scooped him back up, and put him back in the tank. That damn little fish earned his reprieve, and from then on I fed him as many blood worms as he wanted.
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Grit & DeterminationYears ago and for reasons I can’t remember, my wife brought home some aquatic frogs and a goldfish from the 4th grade science class she taught. The frogs were weird little things that never touched solid ground and swam alongside the goldfish in a 10-gallon aquarium. I was in charge of feeding them. The fish ate fish food. The frogs ate little cubes of frozen blood worms. Soon the goldfish discovered it liked blood worms. And no matter how many fish flakes I fed it to sate its hunger, whenever I dropped the worms in the tank the fish ate nearly all of them before the emaciated frogs got any. After a year the goldfish had grown huge from all the protein-rich worms, and I had grown annoyed at the feeding-time hassle. I scooped up the fish, dropped him in the toilet, and flushed it. But as the water swirled that little sucker spun around and swam for all he was worth against the current. As the water calmed and the bowl filled back up, there he was. I shook my head in disbelief, scooped him back up, and put him back in the tank. That damn little fish earned his reprieve, and from then on I fed him as many blood worms as he wanted.
October 2012 Trail Head Editorial | Digg It | Add to del.icio.us
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