This particular fish was caught with liver. I actually thought I had snagged a log and was really mad (because it was about the 50th time I had snagged my hook on a log that day). I'd finally had enough and yanked my fishing pole really hard, hoping to yank the hook free and if it snapped the line, to hell with it. I didn't care any more.

Suddenly, out of the water, flipped a fish. It splashed back into the water and commenced to fighting. I screamed and about dropped the pole into the pond. I came to my senses. I started reeling in the line. Much to my amazement, I landed the fish.

The ironic thing is, he didn't bite the hook. The hook was in his lip, but from the outside, not the inside. It looked like I hooked him as he happened to swim by. Imagine his surprise.

And yes, I did eat him. Unfortunately, he didn't taste very good.

There is a sunken crane in Cane Garden Bay and we heard there is lots of interesting things around it. We went to check it out. I forgot to put the anti-fog stuff on my mask, so by the time I had swam out to the crane, I was all fogged up.

I spent a few minutes treading water trying to clear my mask and I started to get the willies. (I haven't been swimming in the ocean very long and the idea of things with teeth still makes me really nervous.) So, I ducked my head down in the water for a second just to make sure there was nothing down there and lo... what do I see but the most huge fish I have ever seen in my life. And it had teeth. And it was looking right at me. And it was only a few feet from me.

My life passed before my eyes. I struggled to get my mask on. I stuck my head back in the water. The dangerfish was circling, giving me the eye. I could hear it's fishy voice as clear as day. He was saying, "Hmm, can I take her?" I was trying to get my snorkel partner's attention. He was oblivious. Uncertain of what to do next, I did what any good photographer does when she feels like this is her last moment on earth. I took the fish's picture.

The pictures didn't come out, unfortunately. You can make out a few details by eye, but the pictures absolutely wouldn't scan. The small picture here makes the fish's head look more pointy than it actually was. The fish was in mid-swish, so his head and tail were both slightly bent away from me. (Of course, out of context, you could just as easily assume this was a picture I took of an alien space craft while vacationing in New Mexico, so you are going to have to take my word for it that it is a fish.)

So, there I was trying to decide if I should gesticulate wildly to scare the fish off. Then I decided I was crazy to try anything since I didn't know what I was doing. I tried to swim slowly over to where my snorkel buddy was. The fish followed. I tried to explain to my friend exactly how huge the fish was and that it had teeth. The fish, at that time, was nowhere to be found. My partner said, "oh, it's probably nothing" and began to wave a sea cucumber at me. (And I just thought he was glad to see me.)

I said, "That's nice, dear, but what about the fish?" He said, "Let's stay right here by the crane. It will probably be okay." So we snap a few pictures more and I look up and here comes the dangerfish. Not above panicking, I grabbed my friend and pointed frantically in the direction of the fish. My friend's eyes bulged out, much to my satisfaction.

We left soon after. I still insist the fish was a barracuda, but the pictures are murky and I can't prove it. And I thought all I had to worry about were sharks....

I love snorkeling. Unfortunately, I have an unreasonable nervousness about various things that live in the ocean. I'd like to blame this condition on someone. However, since my mother now has Internet access, it can't be her. She'll know. Somehow, she'll know.

I've never seen a shark, never had an encounter with a shark, never known anyone who has had an encounter with a shark. (That's why I referred to my condition as "unreasonable nervousness".) The only encounters I have had with fish is what you see here.

It does not help that where I live the ocean water is murky. Generally on any given day when the water is warm enough to swim, I can't see anything. My imagination staggers me. As I swim blindly away from the shore, the sound of my own breathing in my ears, I imagine a large, gaping maw fringed with sharp and bloody teeth. I see it looming out of the cloudy murk, ready to chomp me through the middle. Variations of this are: 1) a large, gaping maw coming up from behind and chomping off my legs, 2) a large, gaping maw chomping me from below as I am treading water, 3) a large, gaping maw coming up but this time I am quick witted enough to punch the shark on the snout and send him packing (I read about that in a magazine once).

All these visions are variations on the same theme involving a large, gaping maw.

On a day that was a little more clear than any other day, I was swimming semi-blindly away from shore. I am accustomed to seeing rays or skates or whatever those triangular swimming things are that sit on the bottom of the ocean waiting for heaven knows what. I am good at picking them out from the rest of the scenery. (Always on the lookout for something deadly.)

On this day, I was looking straight down at the sand as I was swimming out toward the buoy. The tide was way out. I hadn't gotten far, I was probably in about 10 feet of water. I looked down and saw what I thought was a skate. It was right beneath me. I wanted to lie there on the water and look at it for a bit, but it started wiggling. I glanced down its body toward the tail, because I looked like I was really close to it. I wanted to make sure I wasn't going to get smacked a good one.

The tail was no skate tail. It looked like a shark body. That drove everything else out of my head. I thought "oh my god, I'm looking at a baby shark. Maybe there is a giant mother shark lurking out there." (In comes the visions of large, gaping maws.) I came to my senses. No, no, I thought. I am looking at something with the head of a skate. I looked again. Sure enough, it looked half skate, half shark.

Seconds later, it was swishing off into the murk, never to be seen again. Not long after that I was swimming off into the murk to get back on land. The whole business gave me the willies.

I looked the critter up in my ocean encyclopedia. There was no picture of it, but there was a line drawing of what I think I saw. I am almost positive it was an angel shark. I know nothing about them. The one I saw was quite small, probably only three feet long.

I found a picture of an angel shark on the Net. This will give you an idea of what I was looking at. Certainly not as scary as a barracuda. Unfortunately, I know nothing about angel sharks. I will be checking into it, though, rest assured.