Mon, 07 Jan 2002

Note: The splake is a hybrid breed resulting from the fertilisation of lake trout eggs with brook trout sperm.

A brave brook trout
One day set out
From his home brook
To take a look,
To go exploring,
With no thought of scoring.

He travelled south
And found the mouth
Of his home brook.
And the current took
Him so far from shore
The brook trout swore
He’d found the sea –
But actually
He’d found a lake.
No small mistake.

Meanwhile, about
That time, a trout
(A lady fish)
Did nearby swish
Her shapely fins.
Her stately spins
Soon caught his eye.
He swam up. “Why,”
He said, “do you
Swim as you do?”

She said, “Dear sir,
Do your eyes blur?
Is your head clear?
You’re not from here,
Or else you’d know.
I swim to show
My mottled back,
My bulging sac
Of eggs, and tail,
So some bold male
Will pop his eyes
And fertilise
My eggs. That’s why,
You stupid guy.”

The brook trout said,
“It’s not my head.
I’ve swum and swum
From where I’m from
To get to here –
And I’m lost, I fear.
You ocean fishes
Are so malicious.
Your ways are odd.
Are you a cod?”

“A cod!” she sneered.
“I find it weird
A fellow trout
Would ever doubt
I, too, am one.
I’ve spun and spun
To draw a mate
And you debate
My very breed.
Alas, I need
To mate right now –
Do you know how?”

“Of course I do,”
Said he. “Do you?”

“I know,” said she,

With that she bore
Down hard, and swore,
And bit her lip,
And let ‘er rip.
Her egg sac swelled
And then expelled
The eggs. She sighed
And smiled with pride
And swam away.
No need to stay.

The lakebed gleamed
With eggs, it seemed.
And our brook trout
Let out a shout
(Perhaps you heard it)
And then he squirted
A milky goo –
And his aim was true.

And he swam away.
And sad to say
The story peters
Out, dear readers;
Our fishes mated,
Grew old, died,
And never cried
For true love lost.
Their seed was tossed
Together by chance,
Not by romance.
And from that seed
Sprang a new breed,
And the planet shook –
Not just of the brook,
Not just of the lake –
It’s the mighty splake!

–for Jaime.


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