Reading the story in my last post about a big eel attacking a trout here in New Zealand reminded me that the first story I ever wrote for New Zealand Fishing News magazine was about eels.
It was written about 22 years ago – don’t time fly! It was pretty well received way back then, so maybe it is time for a re-run. Have a read here
I can recall my eeling days as the same.Myself and brothers would go to our local creek and with bent backs we would creep inside the big storm water pipe with spear,torch and empty potatoe sack in hand. If an eel was spotted in the ankle deep water the pipe echoed with screams and if was a big one that scared the living day lights out of me I would do the splits and toe grip the pipe above water level where my brothers could literally crawl under me.
When all of us Maori kids were not up the pipe we were sitting on top waiting for the men in black to appear so we could all attack and have at least one great big feed to take home. Mum was only to happy to accept food for the table so long as we all and along with eels got rid of the slim and mud of our bodies before entering the house.
Great slim and mud memories and yes the eels were huge but hungry enough to bite my toes.
It is memories of these days when I think of what so many kid's today are missing out because of rampant over-protection. Does not seem like that horrible mud did us any harm, except perhaps the occasional wooden spoon applied to my bum:)