A Riparian Yarn

I'm a riparian.

Dwelling directly on a riverbank, I share this unusual and privileged status with a select few : the occupants of the house downstream, and a host of shy and mostly nocturnal unregistered neighbours. Amongst them, the sleek and cunning water rats, chubby beady-eyed water voles, randy parping ducks, and their buoyant weebly offspring, unkempt herons, kingfisher flashers, jaunty dippers, rare and giggly otters, the odd shy coot, and all things that go kersploosh in the night. 

Not so long ago, big eels and spawning salmon were frequent passers-by. With the salmon came stealthy night poachers, who always woke me with their ninja tiptoe splashiness and manly feral farts. I would promptly turn on a light and peer blindly out of the window awhile, as that often manifested an anonymous fishy gift on the doorstep. 

My own tall fishtale took place on a night when my sleep was interrupted by a relentless slappy flapping. With the first blush of dawn, I donned wellies and dressing gown to investigate. A huge grim-faced lady salmon lay trapped in a hollow of her own making, the river level being unusually low. Some primitive force sped me back to the house where I blindly grabbed an old string bag and a wooden mallet. Back in the river, I slid the bag firmly and incongruously over her head and along her body. At that triumphant moment, a dart of early sunlight sparked through the overhead branches illuminating her rainbow skin. Struck by such unexpected beauty, I hesitated, and as my already flimsy killer instinct morphed into awed compassion, she powered herself into rapid reverse, exited the bag, and leapt upriver to complete her time-honoured maternal mission. 

Diminished by her primal magnificence, I was left alone, thoroughly out of my element, humbled and shivering in the now cold light of a new day. Knee deep in flooded wellies and a clingy sodden gown, clutching a dripping string bag and a hammer, I began to ponder on the telling of such an incredulous tale to my absent boyfriend - an enthusiastic but seldom successful angler.  As I squelched up the bank, I heard a muffled snort of chortled glee. Twenty yards downstream a delighted trio of village elders leant on the village bridge, now more bemused than ever by their new exotic neighbour. 

Forty years on, I'm a thoroughbred but more relaxed riparian: I just watch and listen and learn.