Times - Dog from the Green Lagoon

Going green is dangerous for dogs

By Kent Barker

The recent spring winds have pushed the green algae to one side of the lake revealing beautiful clear water. It’s a wonderful—and increasingly rare— sight. When the glorified pond was first built by my father in the 1970s, it was always clear. There’s a lovely picture of ducks swimming through a mirror-like reflection of the house. But then, year by year, pond-weed started to grow up from the bottom and a thick green soup covered more and more of the surface.

It got so bad that visitors with dogs and small children had to be warned that this was, in fact, water and not an extension of the lawn. An elderly and none too bright golden Labrador failed to heed the advice and took one step too far off the bank. The result was comical to behold. Even once he had scrambled back onto dry land and shaken himself vigorously, he was still covered from head to tail in a glutinous green coat. How we laughed. Well, when I say we, not his owners. They were less than delighted that their beloved pooch had changed hue and now smelt like a creature from a primeval swamp. I’m not sure the hound was too amused either, especially when he was being vigorously hosed down before being allowed back inside the house.

Father tried every method imaginable to clear what he always insisted on calling his ‘lake’. Each spring vast quantities of expensive chemicals were cast liberally on the water. It certainly killed the algae. Temporarily. But it also killed most other pond-life. Permanently.  By July though, the algae was again thick enough to conceal the dead fish floating belly-up on the surface.

So he had to resort to other methods. He constructed, from decommissioned rugby posts, a boom that traversed the water. To the wooden poles he fixed chicken wire and netting and dragged the contraption from one side to the other, sweeping the algae towards the corner where the water exited the lake into the river some feet below.

Oh, yes, I’d neglected to mention the river. That was the vital ingredient in Father’s grand design. When he first mooted a moat for the—admittedly medieval—house, we mocked the idea. Even when he amended it to a pond (sorry ‘lake’) in what was, hitherto, a peaceful sheep-grazed meadow, we were sceptical. “Where are you going to get the water from,” we asked? “From the river, of course,” he replied. “But, Dad, the river is two metres below the level of the field. You’re going to have to do an awful lot of digging.” “No problem, I’ll pipe the water under the road from the upper millpond opposite”, he said nonchalantly.

No argument would dissuade him. Huge mechanical diggers were employed; the field was turned into a muddy quagmire and, whenever we asked how he was planning to dig up the road for his pipe, he just smiled enigmatically.

Then his fairy godmother on the council announced the adjacent road bridge was to be upgraded and a sliver of our land would be required. To avoid a protracted compulsory purchase battle, they immediately agreed to run Father’s  pipe under the road for him.

As I say, to begin with, the project was a great success. My sister and I bathed in the cool clear water. A dinghy was purchased and capsized regularly after drunken luncheons. Ducks were imported, but usually just swam across to the other side of the pond, waddled down to the river and disappeared off downstream, never to return.

After Father died, I rather let the lake return to nature. Trees grew up round it, depositing leaves, which further depleted the oxygen and aided the algae. I did, at one point, drain it and have a digger remove the organic matter on the bottom. For the rest of that season the water remained clear but, by the following year, the surface again resembled an unbroken green carpet.

Then, by chance, I discovered that new technology had come up with a solution. Apparently ultrasound kills off algae and, more importantly, prevents them coming back. So, I thought, rush me an ultrasound machine and let’s get going. But—and you just knew there’d be a ‘but’ didn’t you?—they are pretty pricey. And, frankly, I’d like to be sure that it would work before shelling out several thousand pounds on the off chance. So I wrote to the manufacturer asking if I could have one on approval or for hire to make sure it was fully effective. So far I’ve had no reply and, day by day, the algae is spreading out. I’ve now seen that they are using the stuff for biomass. I wonder if my green lake could be harvested for green fuel?