04/14/2026
🦐Shrimp in our Prince George Forests!?🦐
One spring, when I was about eight or nine years old, I went exploring in the forest with my brother and cousin. My grandmother lived in a rural area surrounded by woods, and across the road from her house was an old overgrown road that led to the remains of a long‑abandoned homestead beside a creek. We’d wander there from time to time. The cabin had collapsed long before we were born, so there wasn’t much to explore, but going there felt like a very “grown‑up” adventure. It was probably only a kilometer away, but to us it felt far. You had to be brave to wander that far from Gramma’s house. Luckily, her two German Shepherds always came with us to keep the bears away.
That day, after poking around the old homestead, we wandered deeper into the forest and came across an aspen grove with a large puddle—almost a little pond. Children always gravitate toward water, so of course we went straight to it and started tossing sticks. Then I noticed something swimming. Tiny creatures… insects? To me, they looked like Sea Monkeys—the little shrimp you could hatch from a toy‑store kit. I had raised Sea Monkeys before, but I thought they needed salt water, so I couldn’t believe these could be the same thing (turns out they are). Still, I was thrilled and I always brought home critters—caterpillars, water beetles, frogs, salamanders, snakes, —and now I desperately wanted these as pets. But I had no container.
So I told the boys we had to go back to Gramma’s to get one.
We cut through the forest and popped out just a few feet up the road from her house. I grabbed an ice‑cream bucket and told the boys to come back with me to get the creatures. They refused. It would just be me and the dogs.
I was nervous—the pond felt “far” into the forest, even though it really wasn’t—but I wanted those creatures so badly. I called the dogs. Only Gretchen, the younger shepherd, followed me; the older dog stayed behind.
I found the pond easily and scooped up hundreds of the tiny shrimp‑like animals. I didn’t want to linger—being alone in the woods suddenly felt very real—so I turned around and headed back. But after walking and walking, I wasn’t reaching the road. The forest was getting thicker. I realized I was lost.
Panic rose in my chest. I tried to think where the road might be, or how to retrace my steps to the pond or the old homestead, but nothing looked familiar. I wanted to cry. Gretchen sensed my fear and came to stand beside me. I looked at her and whispered, “Take me home, Gretchen.”
And somehow, she understood.
She started walking, and I followed. We pushed through tall ostrich ferns until we reached a small creek. I thought I recognized it—there was a creek near the road that we often explored—but the ferns grew so thick and far from the water that I wasn’t sure. Still, Gretchen kept going. Within minutes, we broke out onto the road. I was way up the hill, but I knew exactly where I was.
I dropped to my knees in relief, set down my ice‑cream bucket, and hugged Gretchen, burying my face in her fur as I cried. She just stood there panting, then turned and trotted down the hill toward Gramma’s house.
All in all, I was probably only gone for forty‑five minutes, but it felt like hours.
When I walked inside, everyone was busy with their own things. I showed the boys my creatures—they said “neat,” but didn’t care much. I showed Gramma too. She thought they were interesting, but I didn’t dare tell her I’d been lost. I didn’t want to get in trouble or be banned from exploring the forest.
I kept my “pets” for a few days before they started dying—probably from lack of food or oxygen. I always wanted to care for wild creatures, but I never really knew how, so they either died or I eventually released them. Not wanting to risk getting lost again, I walked to the creek and let them go. I probably doomed them anyway, since I learned this morning that these creatures—fairy shrimp—need vernal woodland ponds to survive.
I’ve never come across fairy shrimp again. You have to be in the right place at exactly the right time in spring. Their lives are short. But it’s magical to know that their eggs sit in the leaf litter of our forest floors all year, waiting for those temporary spring ponds to appear so they can begin their brief, beautiful life cycle again.
So if you are out this spring exploring the woods and come across one of those ponds that dry up in the summer, go explore it and see if those little fairy shrimp are inhabiting it. 😊
(Picture from St. Georges News Website. As it's a News based website, I can't post news links)
