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Nov. 5th, 2002 10:31 am
Just an ordinary day
Get up.
Get dressed.
Go into work.
Kill laboratory pet fish.
Have coffee.
Get dressed.
Go into work.
Kill laboratory pet fish.
Have coffee.
Nov. 5th, 2002
Nov. 5th, 2002 10:52 am
Okay, I'll clarify. Why the fish got it.
For anyone who isn't aware I work in an Animal Genomics Laboratory. We have a fish tank in the centre of the research lab in an attempt to give us a homely "we love animals" feel. Of course, we do love animals and that is why a lot of the work that is done is in conservation, ecology and population dynamics.
The fish are not part of any experiment, they are just there. When the tank was first installed there was a variety of fish, selected to give a well-balanced ecosystem and because they would be pretty.
Then someone put some African Cichlids into the tank. We started off with quite a lot of these particular fish - a good thing as when Cichlid numbers are limited they become aggressive and territorial. However something happened that meant that a number of the Cichlids died. The remaining Cichlids became larger (about the size of my hand), more aggressive and bullied the smaller fish to death. By the time I joined the lab last year there were two very fat Cichlids in the tank, as well as two bottom creeping fish. All the pretty neons and catfish had died of fright.
Earlier in the year one of the Cichlids was seen to be suffering from a cancerous growth and was removed from the tank by Sarah and hit over the head with a spanner. Several times. This turned out to be the highlight of the visit for a work-experience student who not only witnessed the execution, but also the autopsy.
This morning the remaining Cichlid was lying on the bottom of the tank, obviously in distress. There where no men in the lab so Pauline suggested looking around the department to find one prepared to dispatch the fish. This was too much for my feminist sensibilities. If there was a fish that needed killin' then I could do it as well as any man.
Pauline flipped the fish out of the tank and into an autoclave bag. I wrapped the bag around the fish and then hit it over the head with a baseball bat. It seemed to be dead, but I hit it again to make sure (I really didn't want the fish to suffer for too long). The second blow was too much for the bag and it burst open sending the fish head flying across the room. I screamed "DON'T COME IN" and tried to get the head back into the bag before Anthea opened the door.
There was fish blood on the bench and the floor, right up the side of the cupboard and on the back of the chair. One of the eyes had flown out onto the side of Pauline's bag which caused a bit of distress.
I took the fish for incineration and by the time I came back a miracle had occured. Three small fish had appeared from under the pond grass in the tank. They must have been the strongest of the original population and had decided to hide out until the big fish was dead. I swear I heard them singing "Ding Dong, the witch is dead!"
The fish are not part of any experiment, they are just there. When the tank was first installed there was a variety of fish, selected to give a well-balanced ecosystem and because they would be pretty.
Then someone put some African Cichlids into the tank. We started off with quite a lot of these particular fish - a good thing as when Cichlid numbers are limited they become aggressive and territorial. However something happened that meant that a number of the Cichlids died. The remaining Cichlids became larger (about the size of my hand), more aggressive and bullied the smaller fish to death. By the time I joined the lab last year there were two very fat Cichlids in the tank, as well as two bottom creeping fish. All the pretty neons and catfish had died of fright.
Earlier in the year one of the Cichlids was seen to be suffering from a cancerous growth and was removed from the tank by Sarah and hit over the head with a spanner. Several times. This turned out to be the highlight of the visit for a work-experience student who not only witnessed the execution, but also the autopsy.
This morning the remaining Cichlid was lying on the bottom of the tank, obviously in distress. There where no men in the lab so Pauline suggested looking around the department to find one prepared to dispatch the fish. This was too much for my feminist sensibilities. If there was a fish that needed killin' then I could do it as well as any man.
Pauline flipped the fish out of the tank and into an autoclave bag. I wrapped the bag around the fish and then hit it over the head with a baseball bat. It seemed to be dead, but I hit it again to make sure (I really didn't want the fish to suffer for too long). The second blow was too much for the bag and it burst open sending the fish head flying across the room. I screamed "DON'T COME IN" and tried to get the head back into the bag before Anthea opened the door.
There was fish blood on the bench and the floor, right up the side of the cupboard and on the back of the chair. One of the eyes had flown out onto the side of Pauline's bag which caused a bit of distress.
I took the fish for incineration and by the time I came back a miracle had occured. Three small fish had appeared from under the pond grass in the tank. They must have been the strongest of the original population and had decided to hide out until the big fish was dead. I swear I heard them singing "Ding Dong, the witch is dead!"
Nov. 5th, 2002 05:20 pm
(no subject)
Phill just returned from the Isle of Man (Phill is a PostDoc and official "keeper of the fish") to the news that I had slaughtered the fish.
"Good," he said, "It's not been well for ages, I was hoping someone could kill it. I couldn't face it."
MEN!
"Good," he said, "It's not been well for ages, I was hoping someone could kill it. I couldn't face it."
MEN!
