- Joined
- Nov 2, 2004
- Messages
- 3,906
- Reaction score
- 4
Saw a nice little article just now about taking Baby fishing - 6 essentials for spending a day on the water with an infant under 6 months | Raising Gus - which triggered of a memory that still disturbs me over thirty years later nor cannot have been ever forgotten by the then baby's parents.
Just be careful where you take your child or baby fishing.
In 1982 (or 1981) I was on another visit to Corbett Park in Northern India when a young couple I knew, he an Indian-born American, a great, multilingual Himalayan trek-leader and birdwatcher, and she a lovely Kiwi girl, plus their new, first baby appeared and stayed a couple of days.
They came down to watch me fish the piece of river above the old riverside bungalow in whose grounds we had pitched some tents.
Baby was in a carrycot that would be placed on the pebble beach at Christina's feet as they watched me fish and, being both great naturalists, also scanned the surrounding forests for birds with their always-at-hand binoculars.
Then I hooked a small mahseer, causing both of them to walk 20 or so yards over to me to watch me land and release it.
Christina's scream of "Geoff!" (her husband) will never leave me.
In the few seconds that Christina was away from baby in her cot, a jackal had come out of the forest, scampered thirty yards over to cot and was stood above it about to take its contents. The jackal bolted double-quick. We were left standing in numb, shaky silence.
Still haunts me.
Just be careful where you take your child or baby fishing.
In 1982 (or 1981) I was on another visit to Corbett Park in Northern India when a young couple I knew, he an Indian-born American, a great, multilingual Himalayan trek-leader and birdwatcher, and she a lovely Kiwi girl, plus their new, first baby appeared and stayed a couple of days.
They came down to watch me fish the piece of river above the old riverside bungalow in whose grounds we had pitched some tents.
Baby was in a carrycot that would be placed on the pebble beach at Christina's feet as they watched me fish and, being both great naturalists, also scanned the surrounding forests for birds with their always-at-hand binoculars.
Then I hooked a small mahseer, causing both of them to walk 20 or so yards over to me to watch me land and release it.
Christina's scream of "Geoff!" (her husband) will never leave me.
In the few seconds that Christina was away from baby in her cot, a jackal had come out of the forest, scampered thirty yards over to cot and was stood above it about to take its contents. The jackal bolted double-quick. We were left standing in numb, shaky silence.
Still haunts me.