Avatar
Plenipotentiary-at-large
Gumby (just this instant so christened in honor of Eddie Murphy's memorable "Dammit Gumby" routine), came with a group of about 40 juvenile Nicaraguan cichlids from CCA friend/member James whom almost none of us have yet had the pleasure of meeting. He shipped the fish on his nickel, refused reimbursement and all were donated and sold at the next CCA auction save for five I kept as a commission for facilitating the exchange, feeding and bagging.
So Gumby grows up faster and bigger and bolder than his kin, falls for one of his sisters and graduates to a 55 with a pair of range Krobia. Gumby and Sis stake out one end of the tank, the Krobia the other, and spawning commences. The Krobia throw a couple broods (which also end up being distributed at CCA meetings) but Gumby it seems is just a little too tense to hold up his end. Finally however he and Sis manage to spawn but all but one of the is eventually munched, not sure by exactly whom but it wasn't the Krobia. Crestfallen or ashamed by the failure, Gumby and Sis take an extended hiatus from reproductive activity. Time passes, a lot of time passes, and finally in the interest of accommodating some angel grow-outs without a rambunctious giant orange marauder in the tank, Gumby and friend are moved to a 100 long with a couple Geo altifrons, a pair of rainbows and a pair of HRPs. The HRPs spawn, the rainbows spawn, and even the Geos seem to but no egs or fry are ever apparent. Gumby does not. And then one day Gumby gets dementia (possibly from smashing into something unyielding) or more imprecisely, some sort of neurological/equilibrum disorder that turns one half of his head dark. Had seen the same occur in Biotodomas and one or two other larger cichlids and it was always fatal. I figure Gumby for a goner, more so as his bold and assertive movements and presence rapidly give way to semi-spasmotic efforts just to stay upright and move in a straight line of more than a few inches. He begins spending most of his time sitting on the bottom of the tank endeavoring not to roll over, and when he does attempt to swim or anything else resembles a sad characterature of his former self - like a manic, impossibly challenged cartoon character , and hence the attribution of Gumby, possibly the most hapless and pathetic fictional character ever to beset "educational" children's television.
But Gumby perists. Shortly after deteriorating to the point that remaining upright requires that he park himself next to something that he can lean against, he ever so slowly begins to overcome his handicap. Whether by sheer force of will, some physical inner rerouting of neurological pathways or both, Gumby returns. He is still visibly concussed in that the right side of his head and forward body are still dark, but he swims, jerkily and lacking his former grace, but he swims. And eats, and eventually rediscovers some of his lost mojo, and before long even his calling. New spawning caves are introduced but nothing happens for months. Said caves are finally rearranged and almost immediately it becomes clear that feng shui has been achieved. Gumby and Sis station themselves over the opening of one such cave and while she occasionally enters and disappears, he remains, swimming in place mid-water, day after night after day, never relenting or tiring, challenging all comers - the cartoon character that could not swim has become a sentinel.
An hour ago I walked past the tank and saw a swarm of some 400 Nicaraguan fry flanked by their parents, the father shielding his progeny from the much larger Geos and surging forward every time one of them drew near. He didn't look or act like a Gumby so much as a warrior.
Almost automatically I siphoned all the fry into a bucket. I feel badly about it now even though for the sake of the fry and the tank's other inhabitants it may be the only sensible and practical approach. But upon reflection I feel bad for doing it. He overcame so much, and managed to beat the odds and every adversity - everything but a guy with a piece of rubber tubing.
But He's back. My Geos have left the shelter of their overhanging slate to greet me and solicit snacks for the first time in two weeks, the HRPs have already gone back to blustering with the rainbows about territorail ines ta the other end of the tank, and He, He is already busy shuttling gravel, repelling drifting and unwanted plants and otherwise re-establishing a perimeter. Welcome back big guy - great to have you in the game.
So Gumby grows up faster and bigger and bolder than his kin, falls for one of his sisters and graduates to a 55 with a pair of range Krobia. Gumby and Sis stake out one end of the tank, the Krobia the other, and spawning commences. The Krobia throw a couple broods (which also end up being distributed at CCA meetings) but Gumby it seems is just a little too tense to hold up his end. Finally however he and Sis manage to spawn but all but one of the is eventually munched, not sure by exactly whom but it wasn't the Krobia. Crestfallen or ashamed by the failure, Gumby and Sis take an extended hiatus from reproductive activity. Time passes, a lot of time passes, and finally in the interest of accommodating some angel grow-outs without a rambunctious giant orange marauder in the tank, Gumby and friend are moved to a 100 long with a couple Geo altifrons, a pair of rainbows and a pair of HRPs. The HRPs spawn, the rainbows spawn, and even the Geos seem to but no egs or fry are ever apparent. Gumby does not. And then one day Gumby gets dementia (possibly from smashing into something unyielding) or more imprecisely, some sort of neurological/equilibrum disorder that turns one half of his head dark. Had seen the same occur in Biotodomas and one or two other larger cichlids and it was always fatal. I figure Gumby for a goner, more so as his bold and assertive movements and presence rapidly give way to semi-spasmotic efforts just to stay upright and move in a straight line of more than a few inches. He begins spending most of his time sitting on the bottom of the tank endeavoring not to roll over, and when he does attempt to swim or anything else resembles a sad characterature of his former self - like a manic, impossibly challenged cartoon character , and hence the attribution of Gumby, possibly the most hapless and pathetic fictional character ever to beset "educational" children's television.
But Gumby perists. Shortly after deteriorating to the point that remaining upright requires that he park himself next to something that he can lean against, he ever so slowly begins to overcome his handicap. Whether by sheer force of will, some physical inner rerouting of neurological pathways or both, Gumby returns. He is still visibly concussed in that the right side of his head and forward body are still dark, but he swims, jerkily and lacking his former grace, but he swims. And eats, and eventually rediscovers some of his lost mojo, and before long even his calling. New spawning caves are introduced but nothing happens for months. Said caves are finally rearranged and almost immediately it becomes clear that feng shui has been achieved. Gumby and Sis station themselves over the opening of one such cave and while she occasionally enters and disappears, he remains, swimming in place mid-water, day after night after day, never relenting or tiring, challenging all comers - the cartoon character that could not swim has become a sentinel.
An hour ago I walked past the tank and saw a swarm of some 400 Nicaraguan fry flanked by their parents, the father shielding his progeny from the much larger Geos and surging forward every time one of them drew near. He didn't look or act like a Gumby so much as a warrior.
Almost automatically I siphoned all the fry into a bucket. I feel badly about it now even though for the sake of the fry and the tank's other inhabitants it may be the only sensible and practical approach. But upon reflection I feel bad for doing it. He overcame so much, and managed to beat the odds and every adversity - everything but a guy with a piece of rubber tubing.
But He's back. My Geos have left the shelter of their overhanging slate to greet me and solicit snacks for the first time in two weeks, the HRPs have already gone back to blustering with the rainbows about territorail ines ta the other end of the tank, and He, He is already busy shuttling gravel, repelling drifting and unwanted plants and otherwise re-establishing a perimeter. Welcome back big guy - great to have you in the game.
