Sometime back in 2003 it caused a dispute to break out between "The Land of the Flying Fish" and "Land of the Humming Bird" because of the migratory habits and the preference for the water beds off that twin-island republic. Minister Eastmond had the compelling task to resolve the conflict that would insure that this particular fish did not fly away from Cou-cou and into the hands of Callaloo but how successful was he is debatable. Pray tell how can someone change the migratory behaviour of this Exocoetidae, for crying out loud. Clearly the fish was not the problem...the problem...who is fishing in whose territorial waters.

This fish again is in the news. It is purported that a Japanese Television in May 2008 off the coast of Yakushima island shot a scene of it in flight for 45 seconds. Wow! that is amazing feat by this ostentatious fish. Thus, the established record of 42 seconds previously set by the fish that can fly was broken.

Mind you, I always knew that this fish could fly for I have seen many such aerial displays during my early years growing up in my ancestral village of Maycocks as I strolled the bays of Half-Moon Fort and Six Men's Bay. As I recalled, it was an added pleasure to see fisher folks in their moses(small boats) throwing their nets out to catch these flying fish. One of my grandmother's favourite pastime was that of drying flying fish on the roof of the house. I loved the taste of dried flying fish but more so the flying fish and cou-cou which is the national dish of Barbados.

That being said, it would have be remiss on my part if I did not add to my poetry collection a poem on the Flying Fish. Free Verse was most appropriate form to pen the poem because it highlights the freedom the flying fish display. So sit back and enjoy the poem.

Oft in childhood recollection
of the beach,
many pleasurable moments
the mind did reach;
roaming the shores
of Half-Moon Bay,
naked bodies all splashed
with foaming spray;
while on hillsides
donkeys brayed.

So many wonders
of the Caribbean Sea,
feet all wet
and silver sands
on the knee,
as bleachers
and bathers
from far and near
chill-out
with their kith and kin
beneath
the trees of coconut
with water that is very clear.

Fisher folks have come
to throw their nets
as agile as ever
with no regrets
to harvest,
these flying fish

Steaming
deliciously
Floating in hot sauce

This is Bajans' delight.

They hurled those nets;
in frenzy array, so...

The aerobatics
are on display in the air;
and the flying fish battle rages;

Callaloo plays the game
so... unfair!

Cou-cou on the stove top
dripping with okra strew...

Cou-cou done...
Stands on plate!

Waiting for flying fish
to land,
while the wives of fishermen,
young and old
are crying every Easter morn
not knowing
what next they must do.

The war of words is too profound
for the gilded heads;
so they seek the lustre

of the ocean bed
in preparation
for...the eminent flight...

They quickly surface
the water
for viewers in sight;
leaping like a frog in midair,

then down again
with valour
and power.

These grasshoppers
of the sea now disappear...

Resurfaced again without dread...

Their pectoral fins outstretched;
they soar like a jet
then down with the nosedive,

Splash!

And they are very wet...

With submarine topography
on the ocean floor
a thousand feet below or more
such fervid flight incomplete!

For now they sleep
in a tropical ocean
that is so very deep;

Far...

Away...

From nets
and noise fishermen do keep.