A few days ago I was fishing all by myself along the coast of Central Belize, in the vicinity of a very picturesque local fishing village.  A rickety old pier extended about one hundred feet from the shore.  A rusty old metal roof, just barely standing upright on the pier, supplied shade from the broiling afternoon sun.  Combined with a gentle afternoon sea breeze and a cooler with cold Belikin beer a few local fishermen lounged in the shade.  The only thing keeping them awake was the cold beer.

I could not resist the temptation to take a break, so I eagerly joined the happy looking group in the shade.  They asked about my fishing success but were especially curious about the long skinny fly rods racked in my skiff.  Among many other fishing stories I carefully but casually explained the new Belize law about Catch and Release for Tarpon, Bonefish and Permit.  As commercial fishermen they found it difficult to believe that anyone would go to the trouble of catching big fish like tarpon and then letting them go alive back into the sea.  They had heard about Catch and Release but did not understand the concept. After a few minutes and a few more beers from my cooler they seemed convinced that Catch and Release was a good thing for sport fishermen, but were not quite convinced that the law was a good one for them also.

Just as I was about to take leave of this relaxed and amiable group of local fishermen a young boy came running in from the end of the pier and in raw Creole he told us that a really big fish was in the water by the end of the pier, but it looked like it was dying.  Come quick he told us.  So we all hurried to the end of the rickety old pier.  Sure enough, there was a Tarpon, about 75 pounds, floating on its side, almost belly up, gasping for air. The water appeared to be about four feet deep so I jumped in and signaled the group of onlookers for some help, but no one moved.  I approached the Tarpon from its back, then held its lower lip in my right hand and cradled its body with my left arm.  While standing on the grassy sea floor I slowly rocked the big fish back and forth, passing water over its gills.  For a few minutes, maybe two or three, it did not seem that I was having any effect on reviving the fish.  So I splashed more water and bubbles into its open mouth and past its gills for another five or ten minutes.

It now seemed I had been working with this fish for about half an hour and I was becoming exhausted.  One of my new found friends on the pier even extended his beer for me to take a swallow.  Wow, another cold Belikin to my rescue!
Well my new friend with the big scales, big eyes and slimy body was now well awake and quite ready to go, so I pushed her forward to test her reflexes.  As I shook her tail she lunged forward and swam away for about ten yards or so but circled back toward me.  My fishy friend circled me several times staying just about six feet away.  Her eyes seemed to be checking me out and I even imagined I saw eyes of appreciation.  I could hear the audience, now up to about twenty persons cheering on the fish to swim, swim, go, go, go!

To my amazement the Tarpon answered in a loud and clear voice, in English: “I am Julia, I came from Florida, I followed in the wake of a cruise ship, I fed on soupy food scraps they flushed out for me, but I suddenly felt sick and passed out. I must have drifted for a few hours.  Then you showed up.  Thank you, thank you for waking me up.  How can I ever repay you for saving my life.” I told Julia that tomorrow we would be tagging a big tarpon with a satellite tag to see where it goes from here, and would she be willing for us to place a tag in her back to follow her for about six months.  Julia told me that would be OK by her but the tag would not really be necessary as she could tell me right now that she was heading for Venezuela.