I’m birdwatching at the edge of a reedbed, under a heavy sky that’s silvered by the falling sun, when a sudden outburst distracts me from my binoculars. I turn around to see a man gesticulating on top of the sea wall behind me. His fishing rod dangles a gleaming catch. I’m mildly surprised at his excitement. Most of the anglers I’ve encountered have been the silent type. Then there’s movement below him, and a child’s head bobs above the wall, her long hair whipping in the wind.
The man shouts: “It’s a gar!” – not a name I’m familiar with.
