One calm spring morning, when the tide was at its lowest, I decided it was the perfect time to introduce my friend to the ancient art of capturing the devilfish, known in my hometown as the octopus. The sun had just begun to rise, casting a gentle glow over the sandbar on the North Side of our island. The conditions were ideal for hunting devilfish, and we set off with a sense of excitement.
As we walked towards our first location, we reminisced about the old stories passed down by our parents and grandparents. They spoke of large devilfish they had captured, tales that had fascinated and inspired us since childhood. The shared history of these stories filled us with a sense of camaraderie and anticipation.
After some time, we arrived at the first den. It was a hole bored into the ground beneath a large rock. The telltale signs of a devilfish’s residence were unmistakable—shells of shellfish and crabs scattered around the entrance. To verify if the den was occupied, I demonstrated the next step to my friend. Carrying a walking stick, about 4-5 feet long, I carefully inserted it into the hole. We watched intently, and soon enough, the stick began to twist and was gently pushed out. A devilfish was indeed inside.
Now came the tricky part—getting the devilfish out. My father had taught me a clever trick: using a 4-5 foot hose and a small bottle of Clorox. I placed the hose into the den and poured some Clorox down it. This would encourage the devilfish to leave its hiding place. We stood back and waited.
As we waited, my friend, oblivious to the impending excitement, continued chatting away. I stood a couple of feet away, watching the den and listening to his animated conversation. Suddenly, the devilfish emerged, its long legs and tentacles wrapping around my friend’s boot. He hadn’t noticed yet, so I called out, “Hey, look down!”
What followed was a hilarious spectacle—my friend screaming and jumping around at lightning speed, trying to shake off the devilfish that had latched onto his boot. It was a big one too, and I couldn’t help but burst into laughter while also warning him to stay away from the water.
In the end, we successfully captured the devilfish, but the memory of my friend’s startled reaction became the highlight of our adventure. It was a day filled with learning, laughter, and the timeless thrill of an ancient tradition.
Notes from Alex 