"It's a barracuda!" the captain said as Wanda strained hard on the rod as she fought a four foot long torpedo shaped fish with a mouth full of dagger-like teeth. The fish looked beautiful as it reluctantly turned up on its side in the ultra blue water of the Caribbean Ocean. The 
deep blue tiger stripes on the brilliant, iridescent silver sided fish twinkled in the tropical sun as the wildly flopping fish was hoisted over the side and on to the bottom of the boat. This was Wanda's first barracuda, but hopefully it would not be her last.
We caught more fish during the course of the day and experienced the wonders of a beautiful tropical paradise. At one point I looked at the depth finder and was startled a little when it read four thousand feet. I mentioned the depth to the captain who replied "Just a short distance that way it drops to six thousand feet" as he pointed to the right side of the thirty something foot long, double decker fishing boat that looked more like a gigantic cabin cruiser. "We are right on the edge of the Barrier Reef". A small creature erupted from the water, sailed forty yards then disappeared back into the water. "I just saw a bird!" I said as I saw another of the winged critters sail across the waves. "Those are flying fish, TomCat," the captain said with a smile. Of course they were flying fish. How dumb of me to not know that. "They sure make me wish for my shotgun. That would make for some serious wingshooting," I mused as a whole school of the ocean hummers scattered like a covey of quail in front of the boat.
"The mahi-mahi (also called dolphin or dorado) eat the flying fish. They swim on their side under the flying fish and catch them when they hit the water," the captain explained. The mahi-mahi are some of the most colorful fish that I have ever seen. They are yellow with deep blue accents but at times they turn to gold an
d green. As we turned to head back to Georgetown the wind came up. Wanda and I were about to experience the ride of a lifetime, or rather one that we would have loved to miss out on.
The giant white capping waves and wind tossed the beautiful, elegant watercraft like it was a bobber. If you watched the movie "The Perfect Storm" you can kind of get the idea. No, we were not in a storm like that, we were missing the rain, but that is what it reminded me of. Another round of sea sick medicine was passed around by our small group, and I could tell that it was not going to be enough for me. I get sick on a Ferris wheel, not to mention something being tossed to and fro by the wind to where you can't walk across the deck without it falling out from under you. I stepped through the cabin door about the time the ship dropped off of a building sized wave. I was still freefalling when the boat hit the next wave. The floor of the cabin hit me in the face. Wow! I was ready to get back to solid ground. I looked at Wanda. She was looking good with that deep tropical tan she had been working on for a week, but today she was looking kind of pale. 
She had the same kind of look and color when the helicopter we were filming out of fell from the sky like Jonathon Livingston Seagull as the pilot nose-dived and rolled the chopper up on its left side to give us an unobstructed view of Seven Mile Beach up close and personal. I found myself dangling from the chopper with only a seat belt to rely on about the time Wanda hit a very high occapello scream in the microphone of her headset, which of course was wired into the rest of the crew's including mine. "No! Don't scream! Don't scream!" the pilot shouted in his heavy British accent. I have to say that I was relieved when the chopper leveled out and we skimmed over the emerald colored water much too close for comfort.
As the sun was sinking over t
he Cayman Islands I walked out on the balcony of the lavish suite overlooking the white sand, palm trees and endless miles of the Caribbean Ocean at Seven Mile Beach. This had to be one of the most beautiful places that I had ever seen. "Wanda, are you having a good time?" I asked. Not one to mince words the little well tanned blonde cut her blue eyes in my direction as she said "I am ready to go home. This is messing up my turkey hunting". I don't think I have ever met a women who would prefer to be in the Ozarks hunting turkeys instead of spending time on a beach in a tropical paradise, but then again, that's one reason that I am married to Wanda.
Wanda and I may never get another opportunity to fish in the tropical waters off Grand Cayman, but you can count on us chasing turkeys in the hills of Arkansas as long as we are physically able.
