common fish, rare fish, and the inevitable guppy plague.

When I was a kid, we had a rotating series of community tanks that catered mostly to my overwhelming love of platies and my father's success at accidentally breeding kribensis. At a time before aquarium science was a popular hobby, way before eco-complete and nitrate test kits, we did pretty much everything wrong and still managed to keep, with success, fish that defeat even the best of aquarists today. The best of these aquaria was a forty-something gallon in Tampa, when we lived right next to a wholesale fish supplier called Aquatic Depot where we picked up a ridiculous selection of fish that today are next to impossible to find. (The idea of locating some healthy N. beckfordi again is still a pipe dream.) I think this is where the whole thing started.

Today, there are a series of species that are remarkably common in pet shops and fish stores. I've never figured out the formula for what makes a fish popular; for the most part, popular fish are colorful, and many of them are relatively hardy species, but even I won't touch cardinal tetras, and they're one of the most ubiquitous fish around. I'll admit that some of these guys have charm. We have a school of neons in our 40 gallon, and they're solid and flashy (although more prone to dying than any of the supposedly delicate species we keep), and I have a soft spot for green cories. My father still loves guppies even after forty-something years of keeping aquariums, which probably explains the rapidly multiplying experimental population taking up space in our 55. But for the most part? Fish you find everywhere are unbelievably boring. The ones that are easy to keep are often schooling fish like neons and some of the more common rasboras, and guppies, platies, and swordtails are the yellow labs and golden retrievers of the fish world. Nice all around, great for kids, but oh my god, dumber than a box of rocks. Stick them in a tank together, and they'll all behave exactly the same way.

One of the best discoveries I ever made about fishkeeping was that species - distinctly, absolutely - have personalities. Pearl gouramis are unbelievably shy, but completely endearing once you've won them over. Female kribensis are pistols that will harass anything and everything in the tank. One-lined pencilfish are sneaky. C. aeneus are shy and moody, C. julii are unbelievable clowns. Loaches are the high school boys of any aquarium: they shove each other around, wrestle, and rapidly charm the hell out of you.

The fabulous thing about setting up an aquarium is that there's an unbelievable variety of fish out there in the world. Finding a decent local fish shop and taking the time to figure out what's right for you will make having an aquarium an infinitely more enjoyable experience. With the right combination of fish, you end up with dramas that are more entertaining than most television shows. (I guarantee I spent more time watching my kribensis pair than doing almost anything else last Christmas vacation.) Go back to your store and spent an hour or two fish-watching, and you'll rapidly figure out exactly what I mean. You'll develop bonds and figure out species that you love. (Which is exactly how I ended up with two Botia Dario today when I meant to come home with zero loaches, but that's a story for another time.) It takes work to keep an aquarium that can support finicky species, but in my experience, it's better to worry less about constant pH testing and more about the things that make all fish happy - clean, oxygenated water, plenty of hiding places, good plant cover, and tankmates that won't make them miserable. Do research and don't be afraid to ask people for help. Look past the neon tetras and the guppies, and I can promise that your experience will be infinitely more rewarding.