I love ponds. I love pond sounds like the belly croak of a bull frog and the song of red-wing black birds in the evening.
When I was a lot younger and less adverse to muck, I would swim in ponds.
I still like pond fishing because pond fish are so much more easy-going than, say, Oregon salmon. A worm on a hook, a red and white bobber, a camp chair and a book is all you need for pond fishing.
I’m always pleasantly surprised when I catch something and never disappointed when I don’t. I’ve still listened to the frogs and the blackbirds and read a great tale.
I’ve tried skipping stones on ponds. I’m remarkably bad at it. I think my eye for the stone is OK but my angle for the skipping is off. On a really great skip, I might see my stone jump 3 times!
This guy skipped his perfectly chosen stone 51 times.
They hold stone skipping classes. I suppose if I ever wanted to get across the pond, I’d need to take one.
For the first time ever, I live right by a pond. It lacks the ambiance of the ponds of my past.
I know some people read Fork just because we’re gate guards at a drill site. While I often write about daily life, I stay away from the intricacies of the rig itself. I can only wade a few inches in before I’m over my head. There are multiple oil company sponsored websites that can explain it all in great detail.
This is my unscientific description of our pond.
The frack (sometimes spelled frac) pond holds water used for hydraulic fracturing of the well.
A well is drilled to get the water out of the ground.
The water is pumped into the pond.
The water is taken out of the pond and put it back into the ground (to fracture the shale).
There’s a little more to it, but that’s the gist of it.
These are pictures of our pond in progress. In the first picture, you can just barely see the pad for the drilling rig in the far left corner. It was first day of digging up the field for the pond. We moved in about a week later.
The water level is rising every day. When they stock it I’ll be a happy camper!