86 NEBRASKAland • MAY 2017
O
ne day last spring, not wanting to fill our limits too quickly at Two Rivers SRA's Lake No. 5, my
fiancé, Rick, threw out a worm on his second rod to see if he could entice a catfish. We didn't
expect to catch anything – didn't know what other fish were in the lake, but the worm sat at the
bottom while Rick continued to fish for trout.
Some time went by and we almost forgot about it. Toward the end of our morning, though, the
silent rod began to twitch and bend. Rick nearly tripped when he dropped his first rod to run to the second,
and as I watched him reel in the fish, which did put up a good fight, I saw flashes through the water that I
did not expect.
Now, I may be no fish expert, but I was pretty sure, as I racked my brain, that there is no such thing
as neon orange-colored fish in Nebraska. Rick reached down into the water and pulled up the thing. And
there it was, a fat goldfish, nonchalantly dangling at the end of his line, as beautiful and shiny as they look
to children at the fair. The fish offered a fun photo opportunity. But while this strange catch thoroughly
amused us and other fishermen close by, there's a more serious message here. Who the devil thought it was
a good idea to release their pet fish into a public pond?
There are two responsible choices when disposing an unwanted, exotic pet fish:
Either put Nemo up for adoption or, as a friend said when she saw this picture, "This
is how invasive species explosions happen. Club the little [mongrel]."
In case you're wondering … No, we didn't eat it. Nor did we throw it back.
Jenny Nguyen
March 27, 2017
Finding No-No
