Mangrove Jack

I don’t really expect this to be interesting to anyone except me (even my interest is waning to be honest) but today I spent the better half of my day researching breeds of fish.

I think it’s weird to use the word breed about fish (and rabbits and insects for that matter) mostly because it seems like a moot point. Like, why bother calling something that prolific a breed. The word breed conjures up images of old ladies with Brighton Bobs in matching tweed suits sitting around with other tweedy ladies discussing which male poodle is going to impregnate which one of their “dawgs” next.

Anyway after hours of research I figured out which breed of fish I was after for my ABR story. Good old Mangrove Jack.

I remember my dad fishing in the estuaries around where I grew up, dragging these angry, thrashing spike backed fish out of the muddy water around the mangrove roots. My dad used to tell me that you could only find Mangrove Jack in two places, mangrove roots or drowned trees, and (when they matured) you could find them ducking and diving amongst the ornaments of the reef.

Sounded like a much nicer life to me, surrounded by green seaweed with rubbery skin, and tangles of brightly colored coral. I tried to imagine what that lone Jack would think as the water changed from auburn to blue, or how it would feel to shed the muddy sheath from its scales.

I always liked the idea that although Mangrove Jack would spend most of his life in muddy, salt stinking mangrove roots the day would come when he would break away from the thick water and disappear into the cool open blue.

Maybe perfect first lines are deep sea bait.