Lake or pond?
When it comes to defining these similar bodies of water,
some dictionaries can't even satisfactorily settle the issue
By Taylor WilsonIt was a learning time in my life … when I was an outdoor reporter for a daily newspaper.
Of course, doing what I was hired to do — writing about hunting and fishing — was sandwiched between taking obituaries and answering reader questions.
Yep, those were days of discovery. For example, on the obit/outdoors beat I found out that funeral home folks aren't nearly as morbid as one might think.
In calling the 50 or 60 destinations of no return, I found not one person that sounded like Lurch on the Adams Family. Heck, those folks were a downright jovial lot. They'd talk my ear off; guess they were just glad to have someone to talk to …?
As mentioned, the job also allowed me to answer reader questions. You know, great mysteries-of-life questions, such as, "How did the band Lynyrd Skynyrd get its name?" (The group was named after a gym teacher who wanted band members to get a haircut and a real job.)
Or, "How do you get rid of moles in your yard?" (Turns out, the formula I came up with was similar to mustard gas. At least that's what somebody called in and told me. Killed moles, but lawsuits may still be lingering?.)
And the most popular question: "Do you have the Lotto numbers from last night?"
But also among these wondrous inquiries were occasionally interesting queries for the outdoorsman, such as:
"Who owns the world record for largemouth?" (George Perry.) Or, "What state holds the smallmouth bass world record?" (Tennessee and Kentucky share it.)
Of course, these questions I liked the most.
And it was one such "outdoorsy" question that caused me quite the conundrum and that question was, "What's the defining difference between a pond and a lake?"
Being the outdoor scribe that I was/am, I thought I knew, but I went to the dictionary for backup. What I came up with was something akin to, "Which came first, the chicken or the egg?" (Seems I answered that one "egg," considering dinosaurs laid eggs before the world had chicken. But also remember, this is from a guy who told readers to use the equivalent of mustard gas on moles.)
Anyway, my dictionary read:
"A lake — a body of water bigger than a pond."
"A pond — a body of water bigger than a lake."
Ummm? (Do you also hear the theme from "Jeopardy," or is it just me?)
There's a thin line if not levee in all this, you know?
And to make it more confusing, it would seem with a flood or a drought, a pond could become a lake or a lake could become a pond, depending on nature's fancy.
Obviously, it all proves that size matters … but at what size does one become the other?
I guess when its owner says so, because, I have fished with people who called what I thought to be a pond, a lake. And I've fished with others who called a lake what I thought to be a pond.
Personally, I learned to never argue with them, much, as long as they let me fish. (Tell them their lake is a pond, and you just might not get invited back!)
Of course, a similar question could be asked of other fishing waters, too. For example, when does a creek become a stream, or a creek become a river, etc?
Does that rock your boat?
It did mine, back in the day … back when I was getting paid to answer reader questions and call myself an outdoors reporter.
I knew there just had to be a measure of water out there somewhere that set the standard, but even today I don't know what it is.
At the time, I called a friend of mine who actually builds lakes and ponds. I think it even says so on his business card, so I figured he ought to know the difference.
"Hey, what's the difference between a lake and pond?" I asked.
"Size, of course," he said.
"What size?" I replied.
Silence.
"Well, normally I'd say a pond falls in that 1- to 3-acres range and everything bigger is a lake," he said.
"But what if somebody calls and wants you to build a 2-acre lake?" I asked.
There was another stumped silence. Then he said, "Man, I bill 'em by the hour that my heavy equipment moves dirt. As long as they pay the bill, they can call it a mud hole, a puddle, the Atlantic, the Pacific or Loch Ness for all I care."
So there you have it, and it's a good place to leave it, too.
Come to think of it, the pond-or-lake mystery is a lot like Loch Ness' famed monster — a riddle that remains unsolved.
And you know what? It's probably for the best.
Taylor Wilson is a free-lance writer and editor for Bill Dance Publishing in Brownsville, Tenn. He can be contacted at taylorwilson@billdancefishing.com.
