My local pet store receives shipments on Wednesday evenings. Wednesday after work, I went straight to the store. The delivery truck was just pulling out. We went through the betta fish together, the store owner and I, separating out the females. There were five of them. These were big girls, much more mature than my petite little Bella. I chose three, leaving behind an identical twin and a wild-type brownish one.
These three plus the one at home gave me four. Hmmm... I still needed more. At least five for my 10 gallon sorority tank.
I brought them home, put each one in her own fish bowl, arranged the bowls on the side table where I sit, and admired them. I was a bit troubled by my lack of numbers, because I needed to quarantine the fish to make sure that all were healthy before putting them in the tank together. And I wanted to put them all in the tank at the same time to minimize territorial fighting. This meant that the quarantine period wouldn't officially start until I had all of my fish.
I certainly didn't want to wait another full week for the next delivery at the only pet store within an hour of my home. I was troubled, but in my usual sunny state of mind, I assured myself that everything would work out perfectly.
I woke up the next morning to two belly-up betta fish.
Two of the new females were dead. This had never happened to me before. I dutifully froze their bodies and collected samples of their water, per the return policy of the pet store. The store owner didn't even look at them. He said that the others had died overnight too. One was pineconed, according to him, and the entire batch was diseased. He would replace my dead fish out of the next week's delivery. He didn't hold out much hope for my lone survivor.
Each day that ticked by was another day that I couldn't start counting quarantine days. I was already a big fan of quarantine for any new livestock, even before the dead fish. I was grateful that I had them all separated. Bella was perfectly healthy, and so was the sole survivor of that fateful shipment. She was a beautiful fish, by the way. A big, inky blue-black crowntail. I named her Guinevere.
The days ticked by. I kept those two little tanks
squeaky clean. I complained about my lack of betta fish and the never beginning, never ending quarantine, and my friend returned from a trip out of town with a special surprise for me.
He had stopped at a big chain store and bought me some bettas. I was delighted. And mystified. These fish were tiny! Smaller than my small one. They were baby betta fish.
He had found a pink fish to replace the pink one that died, and three others in varying shades of blue. Because blue is my favorite color. All were crowntail bettas, except for one tiny blue-black veiltail.
Now I had six, a full set of female bettas. The business of water changing began in earnest. I had six small tanks that had to be cleaned so very, very often. The smallest of the betta bowls
needed daily water changes, and the bigger ones needed changing every other day. This was in addition to my other fish tanks and their water changing schedule. I was exhausted with it.
The days ticked by. I kept those two little tanks
squeaky clean. I complained about my lack of betta fish and the never beginning, never ending quarantine, and my friend returned from a trip out of town with a special surprise for me. He had stopped at a big chain store and bought me some bettas. I was delighted. And mystified. These fish were tiny! Smaller than my small one. They were baby betta fish.
He had found a pink fish to replace the pink one that died, and three others in varying shades of blue. Because blue is my favorite color. All were crowntail bettas, except for one tiny blue-black veiltail.
Now I had six, a full set of female bettas. The business of water changing began in earnest. I had six small tanks that had to be cleaned so very, very often. The smallest of the betta bowls
needed daily water changes, and the bigger ones needed changing every other day. This was in addition to my other fish tanks and their water changing schedule. I was exhausted with it.
I made it worse by returning to my local pet store and choosing one more fish. A big red and gold mistake. Fabulously beautiful, and furiously aggressive.
I didn't keep her tank near the others for very long. She constantly attacked anything that moved through the glass. The baby bettas were terrified of her. I moved her to a different location, all by herself, and she calmed down.
Now I had seven extra tanks to clean, and a problem with one of the babies. The little veiltail had a swim bladder disorder. She could barely swim. I tried everything. I seriously considered euthanizing her. What use is a fish that can't swim? What kind of a life is that? She only got worse, with clamped fins that earned her the name Tadpole. That's what she looked like, a little black tadpole.
Through trial and error, I did manage to cure her. Turns out she had a belly full of worms pushing on her swim bladder. I bought a container of medicated, antiparasitic food pellets. Worked like a charm. She was able to swim again in no time. But she had to consume only that food for 10 days, which took her past the end of the quarantine period. And she still had the clamped fins. I decided against putting her in the sorority tank. I didn't think she could compete with the others. She was clearly more docile, and just plain pitiful.
Which brings me to a very important point. The quarantine period is not only for assuring the health of the fish, it is the period where you get to know the fish. The younger girls were similarly playful and active, except for the one that was sickly and pitiful. In retrospect, the babies didn't really exhibit much personality yet. They were just like happy children skipping around the playground.
The adult females, like all betta fish, had personality. The blue one was mellow. She took interest in the other fish around her fishbowl, but she didn't seem upset by them at all. The red one seemed like a bad mix with any other fish. I had serious doubts about adding her to the sorority tank, even in my complete inexperience. She was obviously very aggressive.
The adult females, like all betta fish, had personality. The blue one was mellow. She took interest in the other fish around her fishbowl, but she didn't seem upset by them at all. The red one seemed like a bad mix with any other fish. I had serious doubts about adding her to the sorority tank, even in my complete inexperience. She was obviously very aggressive.
At this point it occurred to me that it was probably a good idea to use all babies when starting a betta sorority tank, so they could grow up together. But I had what I had. And the long, terrible quarantine period, two weeks that stretched into forever, was over. It was time to populate the betta sorority tank.
