The Wild Hunt - Feral: Rewilding the Land, the Sea, and Human Life - page 21

But the fish I brought into the boat now was not a weever. It had a
high square forehead, a delicate beaked mouth, damasked chestnut
flanks shot with gold, and crimson fins like Spanish fans, flecked with
turquoise. Under the throat were long bony fingers, which it used to
probe the sediments for food. Seen from the front, the tub gurnard
looked like a goose, its eyes set high on the sides of its beaked head.
From the side, it was as pretty as an aquarium fish. I released it and it
flicked back into the deep.
Now the waves were breaking on the shingle a few hundred yards
from where I sat. Still trailing the line, my arms heavy, legs trembling
with effort, I made my way north, towards the row of white breakers
on the edge of the reef. I wound the cord back onto the spool, secured
the hooks and stowed it. Soon afterwards I crossed the salt barrier. It
was a neat white line of foam. On one side the water was green and
clear; on the other it was brown and turbid: fresh water pouring from
the river and fanning out into the sea. The change was as abrupt
as the colouring on a diagram.
I wove through the breaking waves. They beat themselves against
the boulders in the rivermouth. They flicked the back of the boat
around, threatening to tip me broadside into the rocky surf. I caught
the end of a large roller; it swung me round and smashed the prow
down onto a rock. I back-paddled, skidded across the face of the next
breaker, then found a passage between two waves. My paddle bit the
water and I pushed myself into the rivermouth.
The whitewater in the river had been slowed by the rising tide, and
I was able, clinging to the inside of the meanders, to make way against
it. Small flatfish torpedoed away beneath the hull. After a few hun-
dred yards, the riverbed rose and the force of the water gathered. I
hauled at the paddle, but soon came to a standstill. I wedged the pad-
dle between the rocks and slid out of the boat. But, unstrung by
tiredness, I lost my footing, fell headfirst into the water and caught my
ankle in the paddle's leash. The boat started to drift downstream,
pulling me with it. I thrashed until I grabbed the leash. I freed myself
just as my face was being dragged under the water, then dived down
the river to catch the kayak. I turned it and began to wade back
upstream, so tired that I could scarcely breast the river.
In the quiet waters beyond the railway bridge I pulled the stern