Last week's attack on a swimmer by a 7-foot juvenile white shark off the California coast reminds me of my introduction to a few of the ferocious fellows during many hours of scuba and free diving.

A number of good-sized great whites cruise the waters opposite to our on cottage Monomoy Island, where they feed on an abundance of seals.

Jeepers, and I used to swim with and play with the seals off Brandt Rock.

But then again, your chances of getting struck by a shark in our waters are extremely sight. The recent shark bite off Chatham was in murky water and believed to be a mistake.

Back to my shark encounters of the too close kind.

The first was adjacent to Tautog Rock, about a mile from the mouth of Sesuit Harbor in East Dennis.

I was getting my tanks filled at a local dive shack when a young man in his 20s asked to be my partner. I said OK, but with two restrictions: no shark spearing if we spotted one, and more importantly, that he not get out of my sight.



Sure as the big guy in the sky makes little green apples, along comes a 9-foot shark minding its own business. I signaled for us to duck behind Tautog, which we did.



When I heard the snap of his spear gun my thought was to give him the butt end of mine.

The wounded shark spiraled at the end of his gun, snapping like a line-up of bear traps. I drew close and gave it the coup de gras.



The cold water of the Atlantic warmed around us as I read that diver the riot act in a language I learned in the Marine Corps (12 curses in a nine-word sentence).

My next encounter was after surfacing after a lobster-picking dive.

I was snorkeling on the surface, preparing to slip-slide up the Sesuit Harbor jetty, when wife Char waved to me, declaring two large sharks were trailing me.

I told her that she wasn't funny as some joking was off limits.

When I looked behind me and saw the two fins that looked as large as sailboat sails, let it be said that I set a speed record that would make Michael Phelps salivate like a Pavlov pup.



How close will a shark come to shore? We were vacationing at Hutchinson Island in Florida when a shark cruised in on a wave that was breaking on shore.



On an Animal Planet TV show, Great Whites fired up on shore to drag seals and walruses back into the water.

Char and I were once snorkeling in 6 feet of water watching a six pack of octopus scurry from here to there in unison when I spotted a migration of hammerhead sharks numbering in the hundreds or thousands heading somewhere.



A lone hammerhead would be worrisome but not a migration, according to my reading, though one has to hope they are reading the same stuff.



After spending my first couple of years in the Corps as a forward observer, feet on terra firma, I found myself flying as an airborne radio operator, and looking down on island after island we viewed sharks circling the wagons, and mostly they minded their own business.

My closest encounter was during a lobstering and spear-fishing dive in Gloucester Bay. I fluked between two boulders only to find a shark coming towards me. Neither of us had reverse gear, and it rushed forward, spinning me onto my side and barreling away.

On the surface, my dive buddies said, "Oh, sure." That is until they saw the shark abrasions on my wet suit that had worn the quarter-inch-thick rubber down to the lining.

So what's the point to this scary palaver?

It is to tell you your chances to get hit by a shark in our waters are about the same odds as getting struck by lightning twice in the same day.





ELMER AND THE CHUM: You talk about working together. Elmer has to wear a large plastic cone around his neck so he won't chew his cast as he recuperates from a fractured toe. And you can not help but feel sorry for the poor little guy, so when my wife Char isn't looking I sneak him spoonfuls of ice cream.

Of course, a hunk of the scoop broke loose and dribbled inside the plastic cone.



Well,Chumley hasn't spent 14 years on Earth without learning as many underhanded habits as Bugs Bunny.

He got his head in the cone and the two went into action, dancing cheek to cheek, like two anteaters competing over one ant. So to settle the situation I gave them separate servings.

3D ARCHERY SHOOT: Swift River Sportsman's Club will sponsor its final 3D archery shoot of the season Aug. 3 at its Belchertown club grounds on 350 Cold Springs Road. Registration will be from 7 a.m. to noon. Club members will set and take down the day before.

FOREST LAKE AND FOREST GUMP: Forest Lake in Palmer is one of my favorite fishing spots over the years, much as Forest Gump has been my all-time movie hero. There is something about a person who is slightly slow upstairs that I feel comfortable with.

Forest Lake has it all, brown and rainbow trout stocked spring and fall, largemouth bass, along with great eating yellow and white perch.

There are also pickerel and a small population of secretive walleye pike. Toss in brown bullheads, also a top pop 'em in the pan tidbit, and you've got it all. Except there are no dancing girls along the shoreline.

Ah, as in life, there are problems. In the hot weather you have to go deep to find the trout.

The major problem is that too many fishermen are keeping their bass catches. And as we all know, if you eat the football, there is no game the next day.

About 10 percent of the 43-acre pond is considered trout water. The average depth is 10 feet, while the deepest spot is 25 feet. There is a gravel ramp, off Bennett Street, which is also home to a public beach. Parking is limited as is motor size.

And while the fish are there, they are not sticking their heads out of the water and begging, "Please catch me."



DANDY EYES: While I was going fishless on the ocean, grandson Dougie Sousa was landing trout and salmon galore, with the first fish going 5 pounds, quickly followe by a 14-pounder.

The entire group aboard Dandy Eyes Charters landed fish. Dougie's was the largest, a chip off this old block. His dad Doug's fish was the smallest, a chip off his old daddy's block.

To show you I am a chump off my own old block, I was supposed to go on the trip but elected to stay home and mow the lawn before it was as high as an elephant's eye.



As fate would have, it the grass would have been as high as the day I left as the three days of fishing saw scorching sun and nada rain at home.

