“I think people just get stronger.”
Her mother laughed.
“I was afraid you’d say that.”
October cooled the pond.
The vegetation began breaking down.
That was good.
The farm woman saw more burrows.
Then more juvenile crawfish.
She started placing test traps.
At first they held almost nothing.
Then one morning she pulled a trap containing seven.
Two weeks later, one trap held twenty-three.
The farm woman carried it to the barn like treasure.
Her mother stared into the basket.
“That’s from the pond?”
“No. I bought them at the grocery store to impress you.”
Her mother looked at her.
The farm woman laughed.
“Yes, from the pond.”
Her mother reached into the trap.
One crawfish raised its claws.
She quickly pulled her hand away.
“Mean little things.”
“That means they’re healthy.”
“Then congratulations. You’ve raised hundreds of tiny monsters.”
Word spread.
Not because the farm woman told anyone.
Because farms are terrible places for keeping secrets.
A delivery driver saw the traps.
He told someone at the feed store.
The feed store clerk told a customer.
The customer mentioned it at church.
By the next week, people began driving slowly past the pond.
The loud local farmer returned.
This time he did not laugh.
He stood beside the fence while the farm woman checked traps.
“How many pounds?”
She kept working.
“Not enough to sell yet.”
“But you’ve got them.”
“Yes.”
He watched her empty a trap.
The crawfish were larger than he expected.
Dark shells.
Strong claws.
Healthy movement.
The local farmer frowned.
“What are they eating?”
“Mostly what I grew in the pond.”
“You feeding pellets?”
“Some.”
“How much?”
She looked at him.
He smiled.
“Just curious.”
“So am I.”
“About what?”
“Why you suddenly care.”
He looked toward the road.
“I don’t.”
She nodded.
“Then we agree.”
The first frost arrived late.
Water cooled further.
The farm woman kept detailed records.
She compared trap locations.
Depth.
Soil.
Vegetation.
She noticed crawfish concentrated in places where decomposing forage was thickest.
Instead of spreading traps evenly, she adjusted placement.
Catch increased.
The seafood distributor called in November.
Not the farm woman.
The distributor.
“You harvesting yet?”
“Testing.”
“What are you seeing?”
The farm woman gave conservative numbers.
The distributor was quiet.