I must try to describe one day’s alligator fishing.

When I was down in Bhaugulpore, I went out frequently fishing in the various tanks and streams near my factory.  My friend Pat, who is a keen sportsman and very fond of angling, wrote to me one day when he and his brother Willie were going out to the Teljuga, asking me to join their party.  The Teljuga is the boundary stream between Tirhoot and Bhaugulpore, and its sluggish muddy waters teem with alligators—­the regular square-nosed mugger, the terrible man-eater.  The nakar or long-nosed species may be seen in countless numbers in any of the large streams, stretched out on the banks basking in the noonday sun.  Going down the Koosee particularly, you come across hundreds sometimes lying on one bank.  As the boat nears them, they slide noiselessly and slowly into the stream.  A large excrescence forms on the tip of the long snout, like a huge sponge; and this is often all that is seen on the surface of the water as the huge brute swims about waiting for his prey.  These nakars, or long-nosed specimens, never attack human beings—­at least such cases are very very rare—­but live almost entirely on fish.  I remember seeing one catch a paddy-bird on one occasion near the junction of the Koosee with the Ganges.  My boat was fastened to the shore near a slimy creek, that came oozing into the river from some dense jungle near.  I was washing my hands and face on the bank, and the boatmen were fishing with a small hand-net, for our breakfast.  Numbers of attenuated melancholy-looking paddy-birds were stalking solemnly and stiltedly along the bank, also fishing for theirs.  I noticed one who was particularly greedy, with his long legs half immersed in the water, constantly darting out his long bill and bringing up a hapless struggling fish.  All of a sudden a long snout and the ugly serrated ridgy back of a nakar was shot like lightning at the hapless bird, and right before our eyes the poor paddy was crunched up.  As a rule, however, alligators confine themselves to a fish diet, and are glad of any refuse or dead animal that may float their way.  But with the mugger, the boach, or square-nosed variety, ’all is fish that comes to his net.’  His soul delights in young dog or live pork.  A fat duck comes not amiss; and impelled by hunger he hesitates not to attack man.  Once regaled with the flavour of human flesh, he takes up his stand near some ferry, or bathing ghaut, where many hapless women and children often fall victims to his unholy appetite, before his career is cut short.