THE BILLY BASS SAGA: Confronted by Beryl Bass
WORDS: Eugene C. Kruger IMAGES: Supplied
When Billy Bass woke up this morning and started his usual early morning routine of waving his fins around and flexing his tail – “just to get the blood going” he always told those who watched this physical activity with some disdain, he felt a strange stirring deep inside him. Huh – what’s this, then? But he soon had his answer, namely that he had felt the first telltale signs that Spring had arrived, maybe not in its fulsome glory yet, but certainly it was well on its way!
His mood was immediately lifted, all those cold wintry nights and then the too long days of August waiting and willing the sun to rise sooner and set later just about forgotten. And what did he pick up from upstream? That’s it, he yelled excitedly to his mates who were now also fully awake, that’s new water coming into our lake! New water flowing in meant the first spring rains had fallen, bringing fresh life to the headwaters, awakening the plants and trees and regenerating everything that made this a water wonderland for its inhabitants. And then it dawned on Billy Bass – it also meant that all the items on his menu that were missing during those awful winter months would now again be plentiful.
“Hey everyone, come on, it’s time to move, let’s go check out what’s happening!” and off he went. If Billy Bass had been an animal on terra firma, he would have had a spring in his step! Instead however, he had a swirl in his tail, but his mood was as joyful..! He led the community all along the banks of the lake, reveling in the warming sunshine and wafts of fresh water coming in. “Oh how good it was to be alive!”
In the next few weeks he grew happier – and stronger! – by the day. In the warming water and longer sunshine hours grasses and lilies and reeds were sprouting profusely, while all the smaller denizens of the shallows had produced tens of thousands of offspring that darted in and out among all this vegetation, providing Billy and his mates with a never ending hide and seek playground. It also, make no mistake, delivered a daily feast that very quickly had Billy and his mates brimming with vitality and energy.
But then the playful, not-a-care-in-the-world atmosphere was stopped dead in its tracks when Billy was confronted by Beryl Bass, the tribe’s matriarch of many seasons. “When,” she demanded in a shrill voice devoid of any warmth and friendship, “are you lot going to build our nests? Can you not see how many we are already? How long before you lot get on with the only thing you’re good at? Move it, move it!”
“Ja, well, okay, we’ll get on it right away!” Billy grumbled back, but could not help himself getting in his own little jibe: “I was wondering why you lot were getting so fat!” he smirked while ducking behind the nearest boulder. Mindful of Beryl Bass’ temper however, he made a big show of rounding up all the eligible males. “Get going you guys, and do it right first time!”
In the following few weeks Billy Bass delivered what he liked to call his “Life Skills” lecture to the young males in the tribe who were participating in the spawning season for the first time, as he did every spring since taking over from the previous leader. He was at pains to describe all the ins and outs of the responsibilities of the males, first of all in building the nests into which the females would lay their eggs, then fertilising the eggs and once the fry hatched being on guard over them after the females had left the nests to go and recover their strength in the deeper waters.
But of course there were the hotheads. “What I’ll do is rush in and mate with the first female I see!” said one of them. Billy Bass stamped his fin. “Forget that move, stupid, you’ll spook them all; what you do is sidle quietly up and then you can mate with as many as you want!”
And so the hectic spawn season got underway, like it did every year. Billy Bass was in fine fettle as leader of the bass group.
“Okay men,” Billy finned himself from nest to nest, “keep a watch out for those murderous carp, they’ll suck up every egg and leave the nests empty of life, so don’t let them near you, not even one centimetre! They’re a crafty bunch, will sidle up to you on one side and when they’ve got your attention another one will invade your nest behind your back. So watch out!”
Their guard duty became even more frenetic as one by one the fry made their appearance, which made looking after them even more daunting as the whiskered forms of barbel started appearing from the depths.
In the end, however, and despite the best efforts of Billy Bass and his band, some nests were sucked dry of eggs and some barbel did manage to evade the best efforts of the guards. It was a fierce, energy-sapping period, and only when the fry were big enough to leave their nests and take their chances in open water did the Billy Bass clan relax somewhat.
But not too much, because as Billy Bass announced to his band, “soon the carp will start spawning and then it’ll be our chance to fill up on their eggs and fry!”
To which Mother Nature could only smile benevolently …
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