Saturday, October 20, 2007

Shark Stories.

We live on the water. We see sharks regularly. Nine times out of ten they are just cruising by, living their lives. The tenth time you pray you are smarter than they are.

I am not about to go into the daft things my Dino does behind a trawler. No one in their right mind scurfs behind a fishing trawler ~ which doesn't say much for the crews on a fishing trawler! Nor am I about to discuss Theo getting his surfboard bumped by something dark & finned. Believe me, he got out of that water fast!

Dearest tells fond stories of the schools of tiger sharks (like our friend here) that would cruise round his knees as he worked his oyster lease. It gives me the heebie~jeebies just thinking about it. Dearest assures me man is not on a shark's natural diet & tells of the idiots who, wanting close up pics, stuffed wet suits with meat & taught sharks that food lived in a wet suit. Sharks, being rather smart, have passed this information along to their offspring.

When we were rather young & still childless & could afford little luxuries like the occassional holiday, we set off north & camped for some weeks at Blacks Beach. I think it was Black's. It had a lovely little spit running out into deep water where the waves broke rather nicely if you were a fisherman & liked whiting ~ which Dearest was & did.

You do remember I dislike both fish & fishing so the most I would do was wander along occassionally to ask how it was going. Besides (did I mention the heebie~jeebies?) I get totally paranoid if I am asked to stand in murky water up to my waist & try & catch something I can't see. Totally does my head space in.

So I wasn't there. I had been. Dearest could well have ended with me perched gibbering atop his head as well as everything else but I had yawned as fishing being too incredibly boring for words & was wading back across the spit when fishing suddenly became anything but boring. Dearest had just cast his line into a particularly promising wave when he noticed a grey shadow zig~zagging towards him. Pause for thought. Sharks on the hunt zig~zag.

At this point I would have turned into something not to be proud of & panicked. Not Dearest. He keeps a cool head on his shoulders does Dearest, which is no doubt why he is still with us. Not taking his eyes of that shark he placed his wire dilly in front of his legs ( though what good that would have done I have nooo idea), tucked his rod under his left arm & gripping his yabbie pump firmly waited for his shark to arrive ~ which it did, turning on its side for the attack!

I can just see Dearest trying to fend this thing off with me perched atop his head having hysterics & an entire batch of kittens. Dearest stays cool, calm & collected. He waited until that shark was eyeballing him then went for it with the yabbie pump ...& missed! Pause for major meltdown. The shark is still coming so Dearest has another go at him & snots him a beauty on his very sensitive nose with the yabbie pump. There is an almighty splash & the shark dissappears.

I love Dearest. He was too terrified to move as he had no idea where that shark had got to so stood like a statue on an outgoing tide until there was no possibility the shark could sneak up on him. Then he collected his gear & paddled home very proud that in all the kerfuffle he had not dropped his precious new rod in the salt water & ruined it. What can I say? Men!

1 comment:

Constance said...

You've been posting more since moving over here! I was surprised at just how much in the last couple of days!

I would have come unglued over the shark incident! First of all, I saw the movie JAWS when I was 16 and it scared the snot out of me! Secondly, I have this fear of the water. Open, endless as far as the eye can see, makes my skin crawl! I am not a fisherwoman either. I'll gladly sit by my beloved and read a nice, engaging book but I don't have the patience to sit there and wait. I am into instant-gratification!

Your cat sounds like a hoot! My folks have a tomcat that thinks he's the family bodyguard. Recently, a guy was walking his dog and the dog came too close to my folks' yard. My mom was outside and "TOMMY" ran up to the fence and started hissing and swatting at the dog as if to say, "Beat it buddy, we don't want your kind around here!"

I too have had my share of animal rescue incidents. When Charles was little, he actually found a gerbil that must've gotten out of its cage and then tangled with a cat. His tender heart took pity he scooped it up (not with his bare hands) and brought it home to me to "fix". Poor "Lazarus" which is what we named this little guy was in terrible shape. He rallied a bit but then expired. he's buried out in the yard with the parakeet and all of the guinea pigs. Animal Undertaker is one of my least favorite roles as a mother!