How & When

學之易，時之藝 

Learning "how" is simple; mastering "when" is art. 

Sakura season in Japan

Leaving my pearlscale fry behind as I embarked on a family holiday to Tokyo felt unthinkable. The fish, in their larval stage, were as delicate as soap bubbles, demanding round-the-clock feeds and meticulous water changes to secure their future form. Yet this trip had been booked months ago—a quiet window I had reserved for calm, not frantic otter-proofing or emergency spawns to salvage a bloodline 😓

Entrusting them to my parents became my last resort. Though well-meaning, their care leaned toward enthusiastic excess. I simplified instructions into bulletproof points: 
- Hatch brine shrimp daily. 
- Feed every four hours. 
- Scoop waste. 
- Change water gently.
- Shelter if rain. 

 Otter & weather proofing

ponds with Pearlscale fry

For someone who had never babysat young goldfish fry before, being handed such a critical task last-minute, their stress was palpable. However, raising goldfish is an art based on intuition and experience, not formulas. It’s easy to explain how to act, but not when to read distress in a flick of a fin. 

Baby Dragon Pearlscale
7 days old when I left
them for Tokyo (20th March)

Their updates trickled in: “All fine!” or “The babies seem hungry—did we feed enough?” “In that case, just give them a bit more, but don’t overfeed”, I replied. Then cue the inevitable: “How much is too much?” ... 😅Better to nurture their confidence than drown them in panic with more intuitive guidance. I resolved to restraint: “Mom, forget what I said… stick to the original plan.” If they perished, so be it. 隨緣 — surrendering to fate’s flow. Perhaps my parents would find their own rhythm in this caretaking dance. 

Baby Dragon Pearlscale 16 days old upon my return (29th March)

When I returned from the week-long trip, the pond shimmered with quiet vitality. Peering close, plump Pearlescale fry zipped past, unaware of their fragility or the legacy they carried. My throat tightened with gratitude. 隨緣, I whispered. Fate’s tide had carried them through my parents’ imperfect yet wholehearted care. The bloodline, still quivering like a spider’s thread, held. For now, it endured. 🤞

Maybe next time, I’ll share glimpses of my Japan trip—where goldfish have been revered for centuries. Stay tuned… but first, these little lives (and many more at the farm) need tending. 



On a related note: 

Last thing I want to see in my
Tokyo vacation...😡

I have received the standard advisory reply from the National Parks Board (Nparks) about the otter saga - the familiar recommendations about otter-proofing and maintaining safe distances. While I appreciate these guidelines, I wonder if we might consider a more balanced approach to this growing urban wildlife challenge.

Wildlife conservation is important, and otters certainly deserve protection - but so do our ornamental fish, beloved ones, and sanity. Their increasing presence in urban areas, far from natural habitats, suggests overpopulation. Driven by shrinking territory and food shortages, they’ve turned our neighborhoods into their new hunting grounds — and our ponds into their all-you-can-eat buffets. 

The mouth and head of this poor fish was half
eaten but it was still alive... I have
no choice but to euthanatize it 😓

Otters are ruthless predators, leaving fish keepers devastated by their brutal hunting habits. Unlike natural predators that kill for sustenance, otters slaughter far beyond their needs - gorging themselves before cruelly mutilating the remaining fish. They leave behind half-eaten corpses, bite off chunks of flesh for sport, or toss their victims out of the water to rot.

There's a irony in our current situation: Rather than observing otters in wildlife reserves, we've found ourselves living in what feels like a reverse zoo. Homeowners are forced to construct cumbersome barriers - unsightly mesh cages, dug-in fencing, and other fortifications that transform our homes into something resembling enclosure exhibits. In this peculiar zoo, we're the ones in cages, while the otters roam free.

There's a fundamental imbalance here: I didn't choose to live near wildlife habitats - the wildlife has chosen to frequent urban spaces. As many frustrated residents can attest, even the most diligent otter-proofing measures often fail against these intelligent creatures that can dig, climb and swim past most barriers.

Half-eaten corpses

In balanced ecosystems, predator populations self-regulate. As apex predators without natural enemies in our urban environment, and with legal protections in place, otter populations face few constraints. This imbalance could lead to declining fish populations in our waterways, potentially leading to the increase in insects like mosquitoes and new public health considerations.

Safety concerns are also emerging. Territorial by nature and protective of their young, otters have already been involved in incidents resulting in human injuries. An accidental encounter with an otter family could have serious consequences, particularly for vulnerable groups like children or seniors, maybe even our furry pets.

Otters kill brutally & beyond what
they need for food

I urge all residents here who have experienced otter-related issues to provide feedback to NParks at 1800-476-1600. With more voices highlighting these concerns, we may be able to alert the authority to adopt more constructive solutions that protect both our urban wildlife and our community spaces (Because at this rate, the otters might start demanding voting rights next.)😜

After all, the goal isn't to eliminate otters from our city, but to ensure all species - including humans - can coexist in proper balance.