Where have the freshwater fish gone that people miss so much? In the old days, you could catch a whole basketful of them in the fields, all big, plump ones.

Around May or June in the lunar calendar, when the rice plants have just taken root and the first rains of the season fall, freshwater fish frolic everywhere searching for food after their winter hibernation in deep water to escape the cold. The fish accumulate energy, silently carrying their bellies full of eggs, waiting for the heavy rains.

Catching freshwater fish, including tilapia, in rural areas of Vietnam (photo from the internet).

By July, during the monsoon season, with continuous downpours day and night, water flows in large streams from the highlands down to the lowlands.

That's when the fish in streams, rivers, and lakes eagerly seek out new lands and new water sources. Mature freshwater fish excitedly swim upstream in large schools, splashing and creating a commotion on the water's surface.

Rice field fish are born in rice paddies; they feed on insects, algae, organic matter, and when the rice plants bloom, they eat the rice flowers. Towards the end of the year, there's a sudden heavy rain, called "squirrel rain." People in the countryside have a saying, "When squirrel rain comes, even the toads will leave."

These are large freshwater fish that come to the fields to spawn. Once they have had enough to eat, they seek refuge in deeper waters. The fish rush downstream in large numbers. This is the time to set traps and fish traps during the flood season to catch the largest number of freshwater fish.

When the rice plants begin to sprout, the tilapia jump around in the fields, snapping at the rice stalks and devouring the grains. The rice ears, submerged in water, swell up and develop a sour taste, becoming a favorite food of the tilapia.

Then grasshoppers and locusts swarm the rice stalks, frogs, baby crabs, and plump water striders become bait for snakehead fish and catfish... The shepherd makes a fishing rod, hooks a grasshopper's tail on it, bobs up and down in the rice field, and occasionally jerks the rod to catch a plump, round perch.

When the fields are calm, a gentle autumn breeze suddenly blows, and that's when the fish in the fields sense the change in the weather.

As if communicating with each other, the black fish (snakehead, tilapia, yellow catfish, etc.) would leap in the darkness of night to the drainage ditch at the corner of the rice field, where the land was newer and lower, to quickly cross from one field to another, escaping downstream towards the streams and ravines.

At this time of year, villagers often make pointed pestles, sharpening them to a smooth point; every evening they carry them to the ripening rice fields to make jumping pits to catch the black fish that dart ashore in the darkness of night.

When the rice plants turn golden yellow and bend their tops down, villagers usually drain the water from the fields to stiffen the plants and prevent them from falling over; this also dries out the fields, making harvesting easier and facilitating plowing and preparation for the next crop.

At this time of year, the entire rice paddy is flooded in one direction, from high to low. Even the most resilient fish, seeing the gurgling water, rush in schools towards the source of the stream to escape the cold.

Back then, you could catch all the freshwater fish in the terraced rice fields or the sloping fields in the valleys just by placing the net upside down in a well-drained area. This was the season for the best freshwater fish. The fish heads were tender and flavorful; even the bones were hollow and porous.

When the rice stalks have been cut, and clumps of rice are scooped up, leaving only a few corners of the field and ditch banks with a little water, the slow-moving field fish gather together, waiting for the farmers to collect them. As Tet approaches, the streams have slowed their flow, the surface is calm, but the depths hold countless field fish.

At this time of year, freshwater fish are mostly still at the bottom of the water; nets don't catch them, and fishing rods don't yield. The only way to catch them is to build dams around streams and drain them dry.

A single ravine might require several pairs of buckets to scoop out, working in shifts day and night without rest. If they stopped, the water would leak out, blocking the flow and causing pressure that would overflow the banks. After working tirelessly for days and nights, they might catch several baskets of freshwater fish to enjoy during Tet (Vietnamese New Year).