A LOT of bother...

I admit, this is a lot of bother for a fresh fish.

We have a half-acre pond on our farm, dating back to when I was a hog farmer. You don’t want to know what it was used for, just that now, thirty years later, it’s full of fresh clean water.

I’ve been toying with the idea of dumping some bluegills in it so I have something to entertain me in my declining years. I understand that Minnesota is the Land of 10,000 Lakes, many of which are full of fish. But I’ve noticed that my life tends to get worse whenever I leave my farm, so raising my own fish seems like a good idea.

I’ve installed an aerator, a pump to keep the pond topped off, and all the other equipment needed for fish health.

Sadly, I also have muskrats living adjacent to my pond, and those little buggers dig tunnels, and sometimes the tunnels poke through into where they shouldn’t be, which then turns the pond into something of a deep mud puddle.

I’ve been working on this project sporadically for a while. If I’m honest, we’re not talking about a high-priority item, but I have an enormous amount of labor invested already. I waver between frustration and determination to not be outsmarted by a rodent.

Saturday afternoon I was in our skid steer plugging what I thought was the final hole. I’d located both the top and bottom ends of the tunnel. I was pushing dirt downhill when I suddenly had a sinking sensation.

It’s not that I was suddenly overwhelmed by the state of the world - I was actually sinking. I had unexpectedly found the middle section of the tunnel by having it collapse under me.

The general rule of thumb when operating a skid steer loader is that anything you can drive into, you can back out of, because you can use the bucket as a lever.

However, when the front wheels fall into a muddy hole two feet deep, filled with running water, that rule of thumb is not as accurate as you might hope.

My wife was in the house and said she suddenly got the distinct feeling that she needed to check on me. She came out and saw something that, while not actually dangerous, seemed a little alarming.

Before you all start yelling at me, just remember there was no actual danger involved, except if I sat in one place cussing long enough for a rogue muskrat to bury me alive. You also might wonder why I would share so embarrassing a story.

Please...I’ve done stuff way more embarrassing. This doesn’t even make the list.

I was certainly glad to see my wife walking toward me. She didn’t need to save my life or even call an ambulance, but she did pull me out, which was vastly appreciated.

After we got the skid steer back on dry land, I hooked up the pump and topped off the pond. It’s been a few days now with no leaks, and next week I’m hoping to get a couple hundred baby bluegills to drop in.

I figure a year from now I’ll be stretched back in a lawn chair, a fishing rod in my hand, watching for muskrats.

Copyright 2025 Brent Olso

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