As of Sunday, the stock tank had been frozen solid for 15 days.
The afternoon temperature climbed to 49 and finally the ice started to melt around the edges.
Everyone was keeping an eye out for Fish. We didn't know if he was dead or alive.
Lucy: Tastes like fish poop. I think he's still alive.
The search and rescue team tried to lick their way to the bottom but was unsuccessful.
Late in the day, I intervened.
I couldn't simply tip the tank over for fear of Fish escaping downstream,
so I tried to pry the iceberg loose. Alas, just when I thought I'd had it, it would
splash back down into the tank, displacing the icy cold water into my shoes.
After many unsuccessful leveraging, shoe-soaking attempts,
I tried overflowing the tank with water, hoping the iceberg would float up and onto the ground.
That sort of worked, and now the herd can play hockey on the newly formed rink in the corral.
With the iceberg out of the way, I saw an orange blob at the bottom of the murky water.
It was definitely Fish, but he wasn't moving much *gulp*...
...until I stuck the net in the water to catch him, then he swam like hell to avoid capture.
I congratulated him on his survival skills, then scrubbed and refilled the tank.
When last seen Sunday night, he was happily swimming laps and pooping all over
my nice clean tank.
And by Monday afternoon, the cycle had started all over again.