As a young boy, I loved fish and snails and little crayfish things and water boatmen and water beetles and leeches and frogs and tadpoles and even the occasional fresh-water crab (did these even exist?). I would regularly hunt and collect such things and admire them and, sadly, keep them until they died. When we moved to the house in Kahibah, I was in hog heaven because of the tiny creek mighty river out back.
I think it was in 1982 when I first spied the wyrm. It was large and green, sinuous and evil. It slunk around, hiding under the water flashing it’s great expanse of teeth. It terrified me, and became an obstacle in my pursuit of aquatic friends.
It had to go.
I recall heading to school the local guild to recruit a party to defeat the beast. Most were craven and spineless, and hid their faces. I did however find a stalwart ally in the form of AT, who came from a family with a long history of fishing wyrm-hunting. Furthermore, he could provide specialized equipment suited to the task, so on that day a covenant was reached to hunt the beast.
Some days later we set ourselves to the task. AT had brought his tools: some fishing line ‘Silver Cord‘, a bucket Bag of Holding and some galoshes Boots of Striding. But more importantly he had brought experience and an iron will. As far as wyrm-hunting was concerned, I’m not too proud to admit he was several levels higher than me. All I had, after all, was a home-made net.
“RS”, he said, “lets take the battle to it’s lair.”
As it happens, the creek river became shallow and went under a road into a deep cave, where it was quite dark. AT was sure the wyrm lived in this place, and – after donning his boots – placed a small piece of bait (the identity of which he kept secret) on the end of his line and dangled the end into the water. His technique was mesmerizing: boldly stride through the water and attempt to lure the wyrm out with whatever tidbit he had put on the line. This 10-year-old man knew no fear! I waited at the entrance with my net. My job was to run in and net it if he was able to get it on the line. To say I was afraid would be an understatement.
I can still recall those moments, as if time had slowed. AT was a silhouette, walking softly and silently in the dark. I was at the entrance, holding my breath, gripping the net with white knuckles. Was the wyrm there? Would it show itself? Could we succeed?
And then – it struck! A yell of surprise from AT: “It’s got me!”
Up came the line, but the wyrm was nowhere to be seen! AT was running through the water toward the entrance, splashing and thrashing and in obvious fear. He had been attacked, but it wasn’t clear how! I was paralyzed with fear…
And then I saw it. When he climbed out of the water and onto the bank the wyrm was attached to one of his boots by it’s jaws! As it twisted and turned in the sun, I got my first good look at the beast. And it looked like this:
We had prevailed! AT was unharmed, his thick rubber magical boots having thwarted the eel’s wyrm’s teeth. Into the bucket magic bag it went, never to be seen again by my eyes. Congratulations and celebrations followed! We may have even enjoyed some ice cream!
I would later learn the beast would end up on a dinner table, eaten by men. I remember being sad when I found that out, but only briefly. I was probably so happy I could once again hunt and collect my fish and snails and little crayfish things and water boatmen and water beetles and leeches and frogs and tadpoles and even the occasional fresh-water crab to care 🙂
