My Adventures in Aquaponics: Fish, Foliage, and a Whole Lotta Flops
It was a Saturday morning in Mira Loma, sunlight streaming like golden syrup through the trees and stealing the spotlight from the drab concrete of the backyard. I had an itch – a burning desire to dive headfirst into the world of aquaponics. If you’re like me, you find yourself looking at your empty backyard and thinking, “What if…?”
What started as a casual chat over coffee with my neighbor, Doug, turned into a plan—one that would see tilapia swimming in my backyard while herbs and leafy greens thrived beside them. I could picture it: lush basil mingling with bright green lettuce, all while supported by some fishy friends below. What could go wrong? Spoiler alert: a lot.
Starting with a Splash…Literally
The first weekend was so full of enthusiasm I’m surprised I didn’t wake the whole block. I dragged out the old shed tools, rummaging through the chaos to find the neglected plastic storage bin that was going to serve as the fish tank. Why did I let Doug convince me that I could repurpose it? Skepticism aside, I plopped it right in the middle of the yard, like I was marking a territory I didn’t even know I wanted.
I dropped a few stones in the bottom for good measure. Did I know they needed to be clean? Nope. Did I care? Not at the moment. I found an old water pump, covered in a thin layer of dirt like it was waiting for its hero moment. I figured it would get the job done, hijacking it right from my water feature I had once been so proud of.
What nobody tells you is that the smell of stale water can be, well, quite pungent. After filling up the tank with fresh water, I stood back, arms crossed, ready to admire my handiwork. The way it reflected the sun was almost artistic, except for one little problem: it didn’t look like an Instagram post. It looked like a sad plastic bin.
Entering the Aquatic World
Next came the fish. Armed with nothing but excitement and a slight panic, I ventured to the local fish market. I settled on tilapia because they seemed hardier than the others, plus the guy behind the counter had promised me they’d grow fast and eat just about anything. Bonus, folks. Apparently, these little guys could thrive in practically anything. I thought, “This is a sure win.”
After throwing some of these swimming wonders into my makeshift home, I quickly learned that they were not as invincible as the guy had made them sound. One fish, whom I dubbed “Nemo” (not sure why, considering he was a tilapia), started looking a bit out of sorts. Mortification swept over me like a wave when I realized I might have put too many fish in too small a space. The water started to smell even worse—like a mixture of rotten seaweed and leftover tuna casserole.
The following week, I almost gave up. Staring down at that murky water was disheartening. The pump? It decided it would take a sabbatical the moment I needed it most. Thank goodness for a neighbor who lived down the street who managed to help me get it running again. Apparently, it just needed a little coaxing and lots of unplugging/replugging, which I later dubbed "the water dance of despair."
Green Cylinder of Regret
Once I finally managed to wrestle the water pump back to life, I thought, “Okay! Next: the plants!” I bought starter kits for basil, mint, and lettuce from the local garden store, brimming with confidence. I planted them in net pots, nestled them carefully above the water, and thought I nailed it. I didn’t. The water started turning green.
Turns out, I had either over-fertilized or under-fertilized—God only knows at this point. I felt like I was battling this green beast with chopsticks and no clue what I was doing. “What do I do now?” became my daily mantra.
Days turned into weeks, and as I battled between peeking into my water and dreading what I’d find, something miraculous happened. The plants started to grow. A snip of mint here, a sprig of basil there. It was like Mother Nature decided she would throw me a bone after all. It wasn’t perfect, but it was mine.
Tilapia, however, had a different fate; some had met their untimely demise while others were still thriving. Each loss was hard. Watching them float was just… sad. They may have been decoration, but they felt like part of the family.
The Takeaway
Looking back, my journey into aquaponics was messy and sprinkled with countless missteps. There were days that I thought I’d throw in the towel and convert my setup into a birdbath. But through the fishy failures and agricultural accidents, I learned a lot about patience and resilience.
So, if you’re contemplating your own backyard project, take it from me: don’t stress the little things. If you’re thinking about doing this, don’t worry about getting it perfect. Just start. You’ll figure it out as you go. The beauty of these adventures is in the mess and muddle you’ll navigate along the way.
And if you’re looking to connect with fellow aquaponics enthusiasts and share your trials and tribulations, join the next session here! You’ll be surprised at how many of us are out here just trying to make it work.
Leave a Reply