Country and Coast: A hungry heron's appetite for destruction

The carnage it created was astonishing. Our pond is not particularly large, probably the area of a medium domestic lounge and because it is constructed above ground it has walls around it. The downward sloping garden means the top of the pond is the same level as the lawn while the lower end contains two feet of water.

Apart from the usual water life such as pond skaters, snails, and a newt it was home to some 32 goldfish. Regular counts varied between 28 and 34 because fish will not stand still, but they did come to the side to be fed when I would attempt recounts. They knew when feeding time was nigh and would congregate at the same point each evening. Even after several months of hibernation in the winter, when they disappeared into the deep and do not feed, they surfaced in the spring to follow that feeding procedure. So who can claim a fish's memory is only three seconds?

Furthermore when we worked on the pond, the fish did not dash away. They were curious enough to oversee events, even brushing our hands and arms with their mouths or tails but showing no fear. It is not surprising, therefore, that we became somewhat attached to our modest fish collection.

Then the heron arrived. I did not see it but when I opened the curtains at 7.30am on the Saturday I could see the fountain had been knocked over and the flat tops of the walls were wet in places.

Four patches of wetness looked vaguely as if someone had been sitting beside the pond in damp clothes. I found splashes too but no footprints or other evidence of mayhem.

But there was not a fish to be seen in the pond. At first I thought some might be hiding in the depths but none appeared. So could a heron's actions be so effective and its fishing skills so polished that it could take every fish even if the largest was only some six inches (15cm) long?

I think the answer is in the affirmative – there is nothing as deft at catching fish as a hunting heron.

I know of no heronries nearby but these fishing machines will travel twelve miles or more on their hunting trips and I wondered if our villain had a family that needed feeding. Perhaps he (or she) had made several trips that morning?

As we mourned our loss and pondered how to prevent a return visit if we were get more fish, we had a lovely surprise. Several days later a tiny black goldfish, only an inch long, appeared from the depths.

How he survived the heron is a mystery but he shares the pond with the other inmates. That lonely little fish is the only survivor of that massacre – I wonder if he remembers anything about it?