Daniel told me not to move it.
The next morning, he arrived with Dr. Elaine Foster, a county fisheries specialist who had spent twenty-six years working with private ponds, hatcheries, and aquatic disease control.
Elaine was in her late fifties, wore rubber boots that looked older than mine, and asked better questions than most lawyers.
She spent nearly two hours around the pond.
She examined tags through a long-handled viewing net but avoided unnecessary handling.
She checked dissolved oxygen.
Temperature.
Water clarity.
She took samples.
At one point Ethan arrived, saw a county fisheries truck, and came down the hill at nearly a run.
"Grandpa, what happened?"
"Apparently your pond got more complicated."
"My pond?"
"Do not start."
He grinned and immediately began asking Elaine questions.
She liked him within ten minutes.
Near noon, we returned to the kitchen.
Elaine laid photographs across the table.
"Mr. Hayes, these are broodstock."
I had heard the word but did not know exactly what it meant.
She explained.
Broodstock were mature breeding fish selected for traits valuable to an aquaculture program. Not merely large fish, but animals with documented lineage, growth performance, disease resistance, survival, reproductive history, or other qualities that made their offspring commercially useful.
"How many are in there?" I asked.
"We cannot know without a formal survey. But based on density and what I observed, there may be several thousand fish total, with a smaller population of tagged primary breeders."
"And the rest?"
"Likely offspring and associated stock."
Daniel leaned forward.
"Value?"
Elaine hesitated.
"That depends heavily on pedigree records and whether the breeding registrations remain valid."
"Give us a range."
She looked toward me.
"The mature breeding population alone could represent tens of thousands of dollars. If the genetic line is what the tag series suggests, potentially substantially more."
I almost laughed.
"Karen billed me $4,800 to dump them here."
Elaine did not smile.
"I would not pay that invoice."
Daniel did.
"Good advice."
Elaine opened another sheet.
"There is a reference in the old state archive to something called the Riverstone Select breeding program."
The name was similar to the old reserve marker.
"What was it?"
"A regional selection program. Fast growth, cold-water tolerance in mixed systems, resistance to several common diseases, improved survival under transport. I need to verify the exact line."
She pointed to an old valuation summary connected to the program.
Estimated commercial breeding asset value: $286,000.
I stared at the number.
Ethan whistled softly.
"Grandpa."
"Do not spend it yet."
Elaine immediately raised a hand.
"He is right. This is not a check. Value depends on ownership, registration, health status, and commercial rights."
Daniel nodded.
"We are not claiming ownership."
"Good."
I appreciated that distinction.
The fish being on my land did not automatically make them mine, and I was not interested in becoming the person Karen would later accuse me of being.
I wanted to know what had happened.
Elaine packed her samples.