Captain Carp Faced a Close Call

At Happy Place Farm, there are three things you don’t mess with: my chickens, my Mullein plants, and Captain Carp.

Captain Carp isn’t just a fish. He’s family. Six feet long (in legend, anyway), algae-draped like a pond-dwelling wizard, and wise enough to avoid every hook ever tossed in his direction. He swims slow and deep near the back curve of our five-acre pond, where the trees lean low and the air is thick with peace.

Which is why, on a quiet afternoon, while I was elbow-deep trimming feathers in the Silkie Chicken Salon (read: the coop), my phone started pinging like a casino machine. I stepped outside, shears in hand, and spotted two elderly gentlemen—neighbors—stationed at the edge of the pond with poles in the water.

They hadn’t come down the driveway. They hadn’t called. They’d walked over two acres of pasture, past multiple "NO TRESPASSING" and "NO FISHING" signs that clearly display my name, address, and phone number, and parked themselves right where Captain Carp likes to glide.

Now, I’m a reasonable woman. I believe in neighborliness. But I also believe in boundaries—and Captain Carp.

As I approached, I realized it was my neighbor across the street and his friend who claimed to have worked on the property years ago under the previous owner. My neighbor had actually called me several weeks earlier and had visited several times was always asking to go fishing, and I told him he could come, but he to please call before coming and always get permission in advance. I reminded him that I was liable if anyone got hurt, and he agreed. We also discussed the number of people knocking on my door asking to go fishing in the pond, but none offering to help clean up around the pond even when they saw me working around the pond. I finally closed the pond and offered anyone that asked to "barter" and they all said "sure".

This time, my neighbor hadn't called. So I reminded him of our agreement.

He said, "I got a new phone. Don’t have your number." (Even though I gave it to him several times}.

I said, "I’ve had the same number for twenty years." I gave it to him again, and then he asked—of all things—"What’s your name again?"

The other gentleman said the previous owner used to let him fish any time. I replied, " New Owner, New Rules. And by the way, gentlemen, I just wonder why you didn’t come check on me last week when those two vicious dogs slaughtered my chickens. I’m sure you saw the Sheriff’s car and Animal Control across the street. That’s what neighbors do."

In other words—they all want something for free, but when I needed help, no one showed up. And I’ve made it very clear: if you want to fish in my pond, we can barter. Help me clean up around the pond, and I’ll give you a one-day free pass to fish. So far, I have had no takers. Just a couple who went thru the pasture, past the no tresspassing and no fishing signs to fish. I wonder if they will come back and offer to clean up around the pond??

As I continued talking to the two men, I heard a low, raspy voice from the water: “Didn’t even bring snacks. Again.”

I blinked and looked down. Captain Carp was circling just under the surface, bubbles rising as he swished his tail with exasperation. “You’d think after all these years, someone would at least bring corn,” he added. I shushed Capt Carp.

“Excuse me?” my neighbor asked.

“Not you,” I muttered, waving a hand, then leaned slightly to the pond, whispering, “Not now, Carp.”

The men gave each other a sideways glance.

Then from up in the old dead tree, Woody the woodpecker let out three sharp taps and hollered, “Somebody’s poisoned the water hole!”

I sighed. “Woody, please—”

Then he followed with, “There’s a snake in my boot!”

I could see the two men starting to slowly reel in their line, not sure if I was completely sane or just animated.

“And that’s all, folks!” Woody called cheerfully, wings out like a curtain close.

I just threw my hands in the air and turned to walk back up the hill. “I give up,” I muttered, half-laughing. “Y’all can explain that one to each other.”

It was a peaceful ending. But rest assured—there will soon be cameras by the pond, and a hand-painted sign:

Private Property – No Fishing Without Permission
Captain Carp lives here. He’s 6 feet long, semi-legendary, and a beloved family member.
Catch him — and I will find you.

Lesson from the Farm: Boundaries matter. Whether it’s property lines or pond protectors, kindness and respect can share a fence line just fine.

Want to read more stories from Happy Place Farm? Or learn how our farm connects to natural healing, heritage, and the mighty Mullein plant?

👉 Visit The Eighth Leaf Project to discover the purpose behind the plants, the stories behind the soil, and why even a fish can be family. theeightleafproject.org

#TalesFromHappyPlaceFarm #CaptainCarp