The next morning, Daniel came to the ranch. He brought copies of county records, wildlife registrations, and old property maps. We sat at my kitchen table while he spread everything across it.
"These fish weren't simply moved because Silver Ridge had too many," he said.
"So why were they moved?"
"That's what we're going to find out." He pointed to one document, a state fisheries registration from several years earlier. It listed a private aquaculture operation connected to a company called Ridgewater Fisheries LLC.
Then he showed me something else: a map. The property where the fish had originally been kept bordered Silver Ridge Estates, and right through the middle of that property was an old drainage corridor.
Daniel tapped it. "This is the interesting part."
"What?"
"This corridor eventually connects to your pond."
I frowned. "So whoever transferred the fish may have known exactly where they were going?"
"I don't know yet." He pulled another document from the folder. This one was older—much older. A county agricultural map from 1978. It showed my property, the neighboring land, the drainage corridor, and a small symbol beside the pond: Fisheries Demonstration Site.
I leaned back. "My pond was part of a fisheries program, apparently. But I own the pond."
"You do."
"Then why would that matter?"
Daniel looked at me. "Because the historical designation may explain why Silver Ridge wanted these fish moved onto your land."
I didn't like the sound of that. Not one bit.
That evening, I walked around the entire pond. I noticed more tags. Some were attached to larger trout; others were on bass. I photographed everything. Then, near the eastern bank, I found a small plastic marker half-buried in the mud. It had an old county logo on it, and underneath the logo were three words: Riverstone Aquatic Reserve. I'd never seen it before.
I called Daniel again. He told me not to touch it.
The next morning, he brought a county fisheries specialist to the property. The specialist spent nearly two hours examining the pond. When he finished, he looked concerned.
"Mr. Hayes, do you know what you've got here?"
"Apparently not."
He showed me the photographs from the tagged fish. "These aren't ordinary stocking fish."
"What are they?"
"Broodstock."
I waited. He explained that broodstock were mature fish specifically selected for breeding because of desirable traits: growth rate, disease resistance, size, survival, and other characteristics. Then he gave me a number—a number that made me look across the pond again.
"If these records are accurate," he said, "the breeding stock currently in your pond could potentially be worth tens of thousands of dollars."
I almost laughed. "Tens of thousands?"
"Potentially more."
Daniel looked at him. "How much more?"