Ninja Shibunkin - Not!

Right then – the mystery of the missing black shubunkins. For weeks I thought they’d gone full ninja, melting into the dark depths of the pond like aquatic special forces. Every feeding time, the orange and calico mob would charge the surface like lager louts at a buffet, while the half-dozen-plus dark ones were nowhere to be seen. I assumed they were just being sensible – camouflaged against the detritus, quietly avoiding the heron’s spear.

Then the penny dropped. They weren’t hiding. They were gone.

It turns out that what looks invisible to me – standing beside the pond with a mug of tea and a smug sense of ecological balance – looks like a neon target sign to a heron. From above, that mirror surface reflects the sky, and my stealthy black fish stand out like burnt toast on a white plate. The heron, lurking in the reeds like a feathery assassin, clearly knows this. He’s been landing silently, probably at dawn, running an efficient little takeaway service.

The bright, spotty shubunkins, who look like they’d be easiest to spot, are still very much alive – milling around, completely oblivious. But the dark ones, my sleek stealth division, have been picked off one by one. Nature’s cruel sense of irony in action: the camouflage that fools me only advertises them to the enemy.

Now the survivors hang mid-pond, low and wary, glancing upwards like villagers in a Hitchcock film. It’s been two months, and they still won’t come up unless I give the water a reassuring swish. They’re traumatised, and frankly, I don’t blame them. Somewhere nearby, a heron is digesting the last of my black squadron and congratulating himself on his refined taste.

Still, I can’t be too cross. The heron’s only doing what herons do. He’s the pond’s version of natural stock control, removing the overconfident and the unfortunate, keeping the ecosystem honest. Besides, the shubunkins that remain are now the sharpest, most paranoid fish in Gloucestershire. They’ve seen things. They’re veterans.

So yes, I’m down half a dozen black fish (plus a few calico ones) – but I’ve gained a lesson in optics, evolution, and irony. From above, invisibility isn’t what you think. And from the heron’s point of view, my pond must look like an all-you-can-eat buffet with excellent lighting.