Our Little Pond

I don’t know how big a pond has to be before it is officially declared a lake, but the little puddle at the side of our local common, is definitely a pond. It’s just a bit bigger than the size of a large five-road roundabout and it has a small island, which sprouts a single tree. Nothing else, just a single solitary stunted oak growing all alone. Local legend has it that highwaymen were often hanged from it. The kids have stacked milk crates, rocks and planks of wood into a makeshift bridge in order to reach the island. I grew up just a few hundred yards from this pond and up until my 11th birthday, when we moved a few miles away, this was my adventure playground too. Even in those days, we reached the island by way of milk crate and wobbly rock. Back then, milk crates were heavy galvanised iron things, not the blue plastic ones they use today, but they served the same purpose.

Only two thirds of the pond’s gently shelving gravel banks are accessible because at one end, a thick stand of willows grows harbouring a few coots and mallard which nest amongst the roots and various songbirds feed and flit along the branches. This was the very first pond that I ever fished, and it fired in me a lifelong love affair with nature and the world around us. Down by the willows, the bottom was soft gooey mud, and from it grew a matted mass of Frogbit, Arrowheads and the all too familiar Canadian Pondweed and other assorted greenery. These plants grew rich and lush and stood testament to the pond’s general good health. A proper pond with clear water and thriving plants which provide a refuge for the thousands of aquatic creatures and fish that live amongst it.

Full of life
I remember wading barefoot with my pal Ashey, waist deep through the tangled roots in the warm smelly ooze to reach the willows. Bubbles of evil smelling gases gurgling around us as we went, daring each other on. It was in here that we caught our first water scorpions and dragon fly larvae; discovered the great diving beetle; pond skaters, water snails and leeches. Believe it or not, we even saw the now rare water spider. (I’ve never seen one since!) In the spring, by the edges of the willows, we found clumps of frogspawn. There were newts there too. On warm summer days, dragonflies clattered and whirled overhead. We would watch them catching flies on the wing. I threw a handful of soggy mud at one, and it fell to the ground. I washed it in the pond and took it home to show my dad. He put a pin through it and mounted it in a frame for me. The pond also attracted sand martins that whizzed through the air at breakneck speed, skimming the water as they went. They martins collected mouthfuls of mud down by the willows, with which to build their nests, and they nested locally under the eaves of a few wooden clad cottages that in those days stood just a stones throw away.

The end furthest from the willows had a bottom of clean sand and gravel and on it lived a shoal of gudgeon. We would catch them on a single maggot or flour and water paste using a matchstick as a float. It was rumoured, like all village ponds, that our pond held some huge carp but I never saw anyone catch one. At week-ends, or after school during the summer, the pond was the place to be. There was always a crowd of happy laughing kids playing in and around it, fishing, paddling and just simply growing up. We would make camps and hide in the bracken that grew on the common and towered over us.

Ponds like ‘my pond’ were the breeding ground for thousands of apprentice anglers. Every village had a pond and every generation had kids learning to be anglers.

Then the Conservators struck
If you have stuck with me this far, you must be asking yourself by now, “What’s all this leading to?” It’s leading to the simple fact that, according to the local freesheet that dropped on my door mat two weeks ago, my pond is shortly going to close for business. Apparently, The Conservators, who manage the common and hence the pond, have voted, unanimously to remove the fish, specifically to stop local anglers from fishing there. I was sitting down when I read those lines. My involuntary action forced me to my feet and I took a few steps forwards, reading the lines over and over again. I couldn’t take in what I had just read.

It would seem that local residents are fed up with the noise, litter and ‘human excrement’ left by anglers who fish the pond. The story told of groups of up to forty anglers camped out around the pond for the whole of the summer. It focused on the hooligan element and vandalism that accompanied them. “The abuse is intolerable,” stated one resident who, understandably, didn’t want to be named.

In truth, the pond is indeed a sad reflection of its former self, and litter is indeed strewn all around it. No argument there! White carrier bags caught up in the lower branches of the willows and take out fast food wrappers left where they fell. Plastic bottles floating around the edges and clumps of ubiquitous white polystyrene complete with algae growth make up a dismal sight. (Where does the polystyrene come from?) When I was a kid, food came in brown paper bags, but I’m sure people still dropped litter back then. Brown paper bags are just not so obvious and soon harmlessly sink and disintegrate anyway. Modern plastics, polystyrene and tinfoil doesn’t. If no one bothers to pick it up, it could stay there forever. We could be looking at several years’ worth of non-biodegradable waste packaging spread around this pond. Who’s to blame?

Despite the obvious signs of neglect, I felt the story in the paper was grossly over exaggerated. It would be impossible to get forty anglers to fish side by side in such a small pond let alone pitch bivvies, and anyway, serious anglers wouldn’t put in the effort for the small fish that it holds. It also seems more likely too, that careless dog owners just might be responsible for the excrement found there

Helpful suggestions went unheeded
I wrote to the paper complaining that the story was biased, inflammatory and not factual. I wrote too to the Common Conservators offering what I thought were some helpful suggestions which might help save the fishing.

I claimed that litter is dropped by all groups of people, not just anglers. I asked them to consider a list of proposals on a trial basis before removing the fish, including:

• The provision of litter and pooper bins and a dependable frequent collection service
• Enlist the assistance of the local Community Bobby to call by on a regular basis to monitor the alleged vandalism and hooliganism
• Hand the pond over to a local angling club in order that they may manage it responsibly and enforce pertinent regulations
• Issue permits directly by way of the warden. The cost of the permits would pay towards the overheads
• Build a small car park and a toilet block for the use of all persons who use the common
• Ensure that the Warden visits and monitors the pond on a regular basis

You will notice that I skirted around the most often used course of action, which is to simply put up a few NO FISHING signs.

I argued that the removal of the fish from the pond would have no effect whatsoever on the amount of litter, dog excrement or vandalism. I reminded them that one of our other local commons has a pond in the middle of it. This pond has no fish either, but it does have plenty of litter, supermarket trolleys, and old junk thrown in and scattered around it. None of which can be blamed on anglers. In summer, the smell of dog’s mess is unbearable at times too.

I explained that a pond without fish is not natural. Fish are an important link in the ecological chain and it’s been that way for millions of years and that other organisms that live in and around the pond will suffer if the fish are removed.

I reminded them that vandalism is now sadly part and parcel of everyday life, but forward thinking bodies don’t cave into it. Few shops close because of vandalism. Instead, shopkeepers take measures to prevent it. They speak to local youth clubs and try to encourage them to enlist youngsters and show them a better way. They too insist on the services of the Community Bobby. They ask the Local Authority to put up cameras and better lighting schemes. In short, they take an active part in keeping their business operational and in doing so create a better community spirit.

I reasoned too that the only people likely to be effected by the loss of a fishery are the anglers, and most of these are young people in an area with very little entertainment. It’s highly likely that vandalism and hooliganism will increase. Particularly when the youngsters realise that this action is directed specifically at them.

I got no reply from the local paper, though in fairness, they did publish my letter. I did get a reply from the Common Conservators. However, their response was not what I wanted to hear. They informed me in no uncertain terms that the decision had already been made. A licensed contractor was already preparing to remove the fish. They also said that the warden would be visiting the pond on a regular basis afterwards to ensure that no ‘illegal restocking’ was taking place. I got the impression that the Grand Master of the Local Anti Angling Brigade was responding personally.

Was it all done legally anyway?
I wonder if the Conservators have sought the permission of the Environment Agency and completed the necessary form. Remember Form FR2? The very same form that is required to be submitted if one intends to ‘Use Fishing Instruments (other than rod and line) and/or Remove Fish From Inland Waters’. (See my earlier feature ‘The Crayfish Problem Wont Simply Go Away’).

I wonder too if the Environment Agency have issued their consent? And if so, why have they made it so easy for a body to remove essential and beneficial naturally occurring species from a natural environment? Particularly when there is no relevant reason or good purpose, whilst at the same time, making it so impossibly difficult for anyone to remove unwanted alien Red Signal Crayfish from other waters.

Sad and resigned, I wonder now just how long it will be, before we see an outright ban on angling in this country?

Kevin Thornton
November 2003