A spot of night fishing

One of the blogs I follow is Mainly Mongoose, stories from a zoologist living in the wild and studying mongoose. Mongi? Mongeese? Anyway, she writes lovely stories about her life in the bush that usually make me quite nostalgic for the time I spent living in the Sumbu National Park in Zambia.

Picture from Nature Destinations. That's the main dining area and bar, with a giant winterthorn tree

I spent many a day fishing in the bay in my tiny fishing boat with a motor only just big enough to take me about 250m offshore before it would inevitably sputter and die. I loved fishing and quite often missed radio school, simply shouting back to my mother that the motor wouldn't start (it's quite easy to do, just cut off the fuel supply) Thinking about it now, this is likely the reason she ended up sending me two countries away to boarding school in South Africa.



One evening when the others were all home from university and boarding school I followed my brothers onto the jetty for a spot of night fishing (not allowed under any circumstances. Quite apart from the water cobras who lived in the rocks there was a monster crocodile who liked to take his evening constitutional along the jetty and once chased my mother up the flag pole for a few hours before we could persuade him to leave) It was December, however, and the lodge was full. My parents were busy with all the guests so it was fairly easy for us to get onto the jetty undetected.
I took up my position on the opposite side of the jetty from my brothers and set up my equipment. As a girl I was barely tolerated on these escapades and I was well acquainted with the rules (Not a sound!) 
After a while I foul-hooked something heavy. Sighing, I started to reel in the line slowly, hoping it wouldn't snap. With only one light on the jetty I couldn't see what it was until it was very close - and called out to Brother No 1 "I've foul-hooked something, can you help me?" Fortunately he came over, because just as I was saying "Is that a log or a -?" he reached down, grabbed me by my collar and yanked me quite unceremoniously onto the top of the jetty. The crocodile I had foul-hooked launched himself up onto the spot where I had just been sitting and caught fresh air.
We never told our parents about this narrow escape, and we never fished off the jetty at night again.