carp as a metaphor for something

Although this weekend was full of interesting events (Food Truck Festival, movies, changing my hair color, research), today's focus is Sunday morning. I'm pretty sure Sunday mornings are meant for lazy brunches, cartoons, and reading, but at my house it means I get up earlier than I do on weekdays. 

The point of this post isn't lack of sleep, but rather the Sunday morning family trip we took to the Great Meadows. The Great Meadows National Wildlife Refuge is spread out across many towns (though we only visit the unit in Concord, MA) -- it's a huge expanse of freshwater wetlands with a variety of wildlife.

This brings me to the carp that inhabit the wetlands. According to the Refuge, carp are an invasive species, not native to the U.S. When there is high water, carp end up moving from the nearby Concord River into the wetlands. Then, when the water level decreases, they struggle at moving back out (apparently they also just like swimming against a current). And, thus, you have the phenomenon of the jumping carp. Pictured below are the dozens of carp that try to move back into areas of high water, only to be pushed back by the strong current. With whatever strength they have, they climb and jump up the rocks, flapping their tails and splashing all the onlookers. But, as usual, the stream pushes them back. The Common Carp ends up in shallow water, three quarters of its body exposed to the air, gasping; then, once again, it musters its strength and continues the hike upstream. 

As an invasive species, we're not supposed to feel bad for the Common Carp. The ample supply of these creatures never ceases to prompt my parents to joke about bringing one home for dinner. But I have some sympathy for these fish - they didn't know what they were getting themselves into when they crossed into the wetlands and watching their strong bodies jostling each other as they attempt to move to deeper water is somewhat depressing. Maybe their pitiful existence in the Meadowlands is a metaphor for something, but it's Sunday afternoon and I'm going to save those thoughts for another time.

Two friends trying to make it upstream.

Fish on fish on fish.

Great Meadows