A cherry shrimp grab bag is built around fragility. These tiny red shrimp molt when stressed, cling to surfaces rather than swim, and are harmed by things other fish shrug off — rough handling, sudden water changes, and any trace of copper. The kit keeps them wet, oxygenated, and holding onto something familiar, with instructions a shelter host can follow without any shrimp experience.
The container and something to cling to
A small lidded container starts the kit, stored with a portion of rinsed moss or a hardy plant cutting ready to drop in. Cherry shrimp spend their lives gripping surfaces and grazing biofilm, and a bare smooth container leaves them sliding and exposed; a clump of moss gives the whole colony somewhere to hold, hide, and feed during transit. The lid needs a snug fit with no gaps, because a determined shrimp can climb a wet wall and out through an opening that looks far too small. Fill the container from the shrimp's own tank when the moment comes, so the water chemistry is the water they already live in.
Gentle air and strictly treated water
A battery air pump running a small sponge filter is the shrimp-safe way to keep the container oxygenated: a sponge gives gentle flow without the intake danger of a power filter, which can trap tiny shrimp and shrimplets against its slots. Water conditioner is non-negotiable in the bag — every top-up must be conditioned, and the care note should state in plain words that no water from a container treated for snails, algae, or plant pests should ever be used, since products in that family commonly contain copper that shrimp cannot tolerate. Change water in small amounts only; a shrimp colony handles a small partial change calmly and a large one badly.
Food measured in pinches, and a molt warning
Pack a tiny sealed supply of the colony's regular food — a small portion of shrimp pellets or powdered food lasts a colony of dozens for weeks, since each shrimp eats almost nothing and the moss itself carries grazing material. The care note should warn the host about the sight that alarms every first-time shrimp keeper: an empty, translucent shrimp shell. Cherry shrimp molt as they grow, and stress can trigger molts during a move, so a host who finds a perfect hollow shrimp should check for the living, slightly duller animal hiding nearby before assuming a death. Feeding stays at a tiny pinch every other day; overfeeding a small container fouls it faster than starvation threatens shrimp.
Label the container like it matters, because it does
Write the colony's identity on the container itself: cherry shrimp, the approximate count, your name and phone number, and the two warnings — no copper, small water changes only. In a busy evacuation, an unlabeled tub of red specks invites disaster: it looks like dirty water to a tired helper and can be poured away in a cleanup. A clear label turns the container into identified animals with an owner, and the care note taped beneath the lid carries the feeding and molting details. If the worst happens and the colony is lost or left behind in the confusion, that identification is what makes recovery possible.
Settle them at the shelter with minimal interference
At the destination, the container sits somewhere stable, out of direct sun, with the pump running and the lid on. The host resists rearranging, netting, or inspecting the shrimp at close quarters; a colony that stays clinging and grazing is a colony coping. Shrimp that die in numbers, turn milky white inside the body, or cluster desperately at the waterline despite aeration are the point to seek advice from an aquatic veterinarian or an experienced shrimp keeper. And if the container ever goes missing on the way, KinsLe's Lost Pet Alert System can alert nearby Circle of Love members for free and let whoever finds your cherry shrimp message you directly.