xannychan
- #1
Hello! I thought I would share my fishstory so far - I think it might be of interest to some, and for others it will be a lengthy and mildly amusing diversion. Just a note: this is a BIG post.
I'm fantastically new to this hobby, and with good reason: I have had a crippling phobia of aquariums for a large part of my life (I have no idea what its origins are, but I have several stories from my childhood as a result of it). Partially on a whim, partially out of stout-hearted bravery, and partially out of a self-righteous desire to help a terribly mistreated creature, I rescued my bettas from a six-year-old's birthday party I was catering for. Ten of these bettas were individually housed in the tiny urine-test-sized cups from PetSmart to be shaken about and poked at by children as party favors; seven were left behind after the party, completely forgotten about by the families and host. On that fateful day, I brought back two small specimens, intending in my ignorance to give them a bigger tiny box to call home. In the nerve-wracking ride home, the larger royal blue, adequately named Sapphire by my creative mother, sat listlessly at the bottom of the jar. Opal, Sapphire's dull pastel pink brethren, swam in lazy circles, seemingly exhausted. Having done no research, I was absolutely sure I could handle these two sad fish...as long as they stayed in smallish containers.
And small containers they were to have - tanks exceeding 5 gallons give me a permanent case of the willies if I'm anywhere within sight. You see, a major part of my phobia kicks in with the presence of large expanses of dark open water. The illusion of vastness that comes with larger tanks may be better for my fish, but what about my comfort?! With a little advice from cousins who had maintained a goldfish for a couple months a million years ago, I filled two half-gallon open jars with warm water, treated with Tetra SafeStart (TSS), and plopped them in. Of course, being the thoughtful fishmom that I am, they had no substrate, no filter, and no decor, just some room to swim around. They're much happier now, I said to myself. Friends and family agreed - not only was I facing my fears, I had given these guys a new chance at life! I kept them by the window with indirect sunlight to keep their water relatively warm, fed them every other day for a week or so, and all seemed well. Opal's silvery iridescence and color began to return rather dramatically, and Sapphire began to be a little more active - though both continued to hang out at the bottom of their vases, and the water got progressively cloudier. I'll change the water soon, I promised them. They bobbed to the surface and blubbed happily in response with what I imagined was tempered excitement. I fed them some extra dried shrimps for being so amiable, and felt promptly insulted when they were left to float undisturbed. Too afraid of my fish and their containers full of water, I shied away from fishing the bits out. Maybe they'll want it later. I had that mentality a lot: I looked at my fishkids with equal parts maternal joy and crippling fear.
Two weeks passed; it was busy at work and summer kept me out of the house often. In the meantime, I figured it was time for an upgrade. A bigger tank! Maybe a filter? I had bought a bag of gravel but had forgotten to pour some in with the previous water change (I changed the water completely once a week in the two weeks I'd had them). I'll get a cheap gallon-sized tank from Walmart - that hexagonal one with the changing LED lights and bubblers at the bottom! It even has a filter and a lid with a feeding hole, and I can afford to let them each have one. I'll get it with my next paycheck. Sadly, I didn't act quickly enough. On payday, I strolled home from work with a check in my fist with the intent of waving my prize for Sapper&Pal to see. I checked in on my open jars of increasing wonder - to find myself face-to-face with Opal lying dead and dry on the windowsill in a beam of sunlight. Needless to say, I screeched as I pulled my hair and tore my clothing. Sapphire looked on, his increasingly ragged fins waving mournfully. In my five minutes of research, I had overlooked the fact that bettas are great jumpers. I brought home sad suicidal fish, I wailed. I did this to him! I'm a horrible mom! Within the next few days, I got that fantastic new tank, set it up with all the hardware, and let 'er rip. In typical Quality Walmart Fashion, however, the kit was missing the lid. I dropped the water level a bit in hopes that Saps wouldn't jump, and crossed my fingers. With all the bits and bobs running as advertised and the water conditioned with TSS, I took a deep breath and moved him over from his HorrorJar with some of the water from the jar and hoped he liked his bubbles and lights. This time, getting close to Sapphire was a little easier.
Of course, I hadn't know that bettas are also averse to currents, so he avoided the bubble streams when he could in the tiny space. It was hooked up to the same connector as the filter, so the best I could do was minimize the stream from the airstone as best I could until I could properly disconnect it. I had also gotten him a big merry silicon plant for him to explore and hide in, and he dragged his fins about in that with relief, even as they tugged. The changing lights seemed to make him weary after a while, so I only turned it on for a little at a time. He seemed to flare his fins and butt at the corners, where I noticed he might be able to see his reflection somewhat. I was glad, though, that the lid was missing; had I not known better, I'd have stuck that thing on and suffocated him. The filter ran fit as a fiddle, though Sapphire hung around it a little close for comfort. Still, I slept a little better at night knowing he was doing at least somewhat more comfortable. For the past week or so, he's been pretty merry, and his fins were starting to get a little less ragged (I suspected he had been nibbling his fins with stress, and was worried the plant might hurt him more)!
At this point, I began to do more research and learned about the nitrogen cycle, about ideal tank sizes, about necessary supplies for management and treatment. Essentially, I learned I was a terrible fishmom, and continue to be! This weekend I planned on getting a testing kit to be sure the water is cycling, and getting him a proper heater to maintain temperatures. Once again too late, though, I woke up this morning to find a big chunk of his caudal fin torn and missing. I began to panic again, and removed all the culprits I could, including his big happy plant and turning off the internal filter for a little bit. I suspect the filter's intake is the main bad guy. I'm beginning now to plan for a yet bigger tank (less corners too) with proper substrate and silk decor (can't maintain live plants), a proper water heater, thermometer, and testing kit, better food than his boring old flakes eventually, and invest in a different filtration system with my next paycheck. I'll be changing out his water again soon, since the general advice for shredded fins is warm, pristine water.
So, my question to anyone who had the patience to sit through my story: what should I go for first? I have neither a large budget nor can I step foot in the LFS - I'm not sure everyone understands the nature of phobias and the process of coping with my new aquatic friend, but it has not been easy. I'm almost entirely sure none of you have had this issue, but the last time I was told to 'get over it' and forced into an aquatic museum similarly lined with dark tanks full of strange creatures, I fainted and had to be dragged off the premises unconscious. I might make mistakes and I might not be the ideal candidate, but I'm trying to learn and do everything I can to make it happen. I'm hoping that the more invested I am in caring for Sapphire the better I can handle my phobia as well. Just lurking on the forum has taught me a lot and given me more appreciation for and less fear of aquariums. For now, I am planning to prioritize a testing kit and filter, a new heater, a new tank (again, a max of ~5 gallons sadly), and new food in that order; any advice for a newbie like me that has to do her ordering online?
I'm fantastically new to this hobby, and with good reason: I have had a crippling phobia of aquariums for a large part of my life (I have no idea what its origins are, but I have several stories from my childhood as a result of it). Partially on a whim, partially out of stout-hearted bravery, and partially out of a self-righteous desire to help a terribly mistreated creature, I rescued my bettas from a six-year-old's birthday party I was catering for. Ten of these bettas were individually housed in the tiny urine-test-sized cups from PetSmart to be shaken about and poked at by children as party favors; seven were left behind after the party, completely forgotten about by the families and host. On that fateful day, I brought back two small specimens, intending in my ignorance to give them a bigger tiny box to call home. In the nerve-wracking ride home, the larger royal blue, adequately named Sapphire by my creative mother, sat listlessly at the bottom of the jar. Opal, Sapphire's dull pastel pink brethren, swam in lazy circles, seemingly exhausted. Having done no research, I was absolutely sure I could handle these two sad fish...as long as they stayed in smallish containers.
And small containers they were to have - tanks exceeding 5 gallons give me a permanent case of the willies if I'm anywhere within sight. You see, a major part of my phobia kicks in with the presence of large expanses of dark open water. The illusion of vastness that comes with larger tanks may be better for my fish, but what about my comfort?! With a little advice from cousins who had maintained a goldfish for a couple months a million years ago, I filled two half-gallon open jars with warm water, treated with Tetra SafeStart (TSS), and plopped them in. Of course, being the thoughtful fishmom that I am, they had no substrate, no filter, and no decor, just some room to swim around. They're much happier now, I said to myself. Friends and family agreed - not only was I facing my fears, I had given these guys a new chance at life! I kept them by the window with indirect sunlight to keep their water relatively warm, fed them every other day for a week or so, and all seemed well. Opal's silvery iridescence and color began to return rather dramatically, and Sapphire began to be a little more active - though both continued to hang out at the bottom of their vases, and the water got progressively cloudier. I'll change the water soon, I promised them. They bobbed to the surface and blubbed happily in response with what I imagined was tempered excitement. I fed them some extra dried shrimps for being so amiable, and felt promptly insulted when they were left to float undisturbed. Too afraid of my fish and their containers full of water, I shied away from fishing the bits out. Maybe they'll want it later. I had that mentality a lot: I looked at my fishkids with equal parts maternal joy and crippling fear.
Two weeks passed; it was busy at work and summer kept me out of the house often. In the meantime, I figured it was time for an upgrade. A bigger tank! Maybe a filter? I had bought a bag of gravel but had forgotten to pour some in with the previous water change (I changed the water completely once a week in the two weeks I'd had them). I'll get a cheap gallon-sized tank from Walmart - that hexagonal one with the changing LED lights and bubblers at the bottom! It even has a filter and a lid with a feeding hole, and I can afford to let them each have one. I'll get it with my next paycheck. Sadly, I didn't act quickly enough. On payday, I strolled home from work with a check in my fist with the intent of waving my prize for Sapper&Pal to see. I checked in on my open jars of increasing wonder - to find myself face-to-face with Opal lying dead and dry on the windowsill in a beam of sunlight. Needless to say, I screeched as I pulled my hair and tore my clothing. Sapphire looked on, his increasingly ragged fins waving mournfully. In my five minutes of research, I had overlooked the fact that bettas are great jumpers. I brought home sad suicidal fish, I wailed. I did this to him! I'm a horrible mom! Within the next few days, I got that fantastic new tank, set it up with all the hardware, and let 'er rip. In typical Quality Walmart Fashion, however, the kit was missing the lid. I dropped the water level a bit in hopes that Saps wouldn't jump, and crossed my fingers. With all the bits and bobs running as advertised and the water conditioned with TSS, I took a deep breath and moved him over from his HorrorJar with some of the water from the jar and hoped he liked his bubbles and lights. This time, getting close to Sapphire was a little easier.
Of course, I hadn't know that bettas are also averse to currents, so he avoided the bubble streams when he could in the tiny space. It was hooked up to the same connector as the filter, so the best I could do was minimize the stream from the airstone as best I could until I could properly disconnect it. I had also gotten him a big merry silicon plant for him to explore and hide in, and he dragged his fins about in that with relief, even as they tugged. The changing lights seemed to make him weary after a while, so I only turned it on for a little at a time. He seemed to flare his fins and butt at the corners, where I noticed he might be able to see his reflection somewhat. I was glad, though, that the lid was missing; had I not known better, I'd have stuck that thing on and suffocated him. The filter ran fit as a fiddle, though Sapphire hung around it a little close for comfort. Still, I slept a little better at night knowing he was doing at least somewhat more comfortable. For the past week or so, he's been pretty merry, and his fins were starting to get a little less ragged (I suspected he had been nibbling his fins with stress, and was worried the plant might hurt him more)!
At this point, I began to do more research and learned about the nitrogen cycle, about ideal tank sizes, about necessary supplies for management and treatment. Essentially, I learned I was a terrible fishmom, and continue to be! This weekend I planned on getting a testing kit to be sure the water is cycling, and getting him a proper heater to maintain temperatures. Once again too late, though, I woke up this morning to find a big chunk of his caudal fin torn and missing. I began to panic again, and removed all the culprits I could, including his big happy plant and turning off the internal filter for a little bit. I suspect the filter's intake is the main bad guy. I'm beginning now to plan for a yet bigger tank (less corners too) with proper substrate and silk decor (can't maintain live plants), a proper water heater, thermometer, and testing kit, better food than his boring old flakes eventually, and invest in a different filtration system with my next paycheck. I'll be changing out his water again soon, since the general advice for shredded fins is warm, pristine water.
So, my question to anyone who had the patience to sit through my story: what should I go for first? I have neither a large budget nor can I step foot in the LFS - I'm not sure everyone understands the nature of phobias and the process of coping with my new aquatic friend, but it has not been easy. I'm almost entirely sure none of you have had this issue, but the last time I was told to 'get over it' and forced into an aquatic museum similarly lined with dark tanks full of strange creatures, I fainted and had to be dragged off the premises unconscious. I might make mistakes and I might not be the ideal candidate, but I'm trying to learn and do everything I can to make it happen. I'm hoping that the more invested I am in caring for Sapphire the better I can handle my phobia as well. Just lurking on the forum has taught me a lot and given me more appreciation for and less fear of aquariums. For now, I am planning to prioritize a testing kit and filter, a new heater, a new tank (again, a max of ~5 gallons sadly), and new food in that order; any advice for a newbie like me that has to do her ordering online?
