River Monsters (2009–2017): Season 2, Episode 3 - Killer Snakehead - full transcript

My name's Jeremy Wade.

I'm a biologist with a passion
for dangerous fish...

the big, the bad, and the ugly.

What a monster this thing is.

Now I'm after a predator
that's invading America.

Watch your pets.
Watch your children.

It has spawned horror movies
and stands accused of homicide.

These fish
have reportedly attacked humans.

Allegedly, it can even
breathe air and crawl on land.

But how much of this
can I actually believe?

I intend to separate
fact from fiction



and to find out firsthand

if this beast
really does attack people.

Does its bite match the hype,

and could these so-called
"Frankenfish" take over?

I've been investigating
dangerous freshwater fish

for over 20 years,

but I've never come across an
animal quite like this before.

According to this website,
they hunt in packs.

It says here
that they have a poisonous bite.

"Cannibalistic."
"Eats everything in its path."

"Breathes air
and walks on land."

Some of these reports
make it sound like

some kind of primeval throwback,

a creature
from before the dinosaurs,



when fish were first starting
to crawl out of the swamps.

There's a story here,
from Malaysia, of a man.

Apparently, he was castrated.

And another story here,
from Thailand...

Apparently, somebody killed.

To find out if these
horrific reports are true,

I'll be heading
to Southeast Asia.

As well as finding eyewitnesses,

I want to track down the
monster that stands accused.

The snakehead is a fish
born with a taste for flesh,

a beauty
that turns into a beast.

This seems like a fish that
punches well above its weight.

If just half
of what I'm reading is true,

then the snakehead really is
a beast to be reckoned with.

I want to meet this fish
in the flesh

and find out
what it is truly capable of.

Can they really breathe air
and crawl across land?

Is it true that they are
spreading like a virus,

devouring
everything in their path?

And are they really
aggressive enough

to attack and kill a human?

My search
for this alleged killer

begins in a place
where it doesn't belong.

I'm in South Florida,
pursuing an animal

that's traveled
halfway 'round the world

and is now busy
invading new territory

far from its natural home.

When Bob Newland pulled
a weird-looking creature

from a Miami backwater in 2000,

he took it
to Florida's exotic-fish lab

to find out what it was.

When I got it there,

I just dropped it
right on the floor.

I said,
"Okay, Paul, what is this?"

And he just looked at me,
said, "Oh, I don't know."

And then he got a big book,
and then he looked in the book,

and eventually Paul came over
and he said,

"This is what it is.
It's a snakehead."

After that, he wanted to know
exactly where I caught it,

and I said I caught it
on a golf course in Tamarac.

And then he said, "No, I need to
know what hole you found it on."

Government scientist
Paul Shafland had to act fast.

What we had hoped was that
they would only be in one pond.

And if they were in one pond,
we could go in and eradicate.

But when his team checked
the surrounding canals,

it was bad news.

Snakehead.
583.

The invaders
were already on the move.

South Florida is a
maze of interconnected canals.

We couldn't have created a more
ideal habitat for snakeheads.

Shafland is up
against the bullseye snakehead,

but this is just one member
of a much larger gang.

Snakeheads are, in fact,

a group
of almost 30 different species

that range in size

from a small flick-knife
to a 4-foot torpedo.

They're ambush predators

with long, camouflaged bodies,
ripping teeth,

and a reputation
for extreme aggression.

Their global empire already
stretches from tropical Africa

to the Far East,
including Russia.

And they seem to be spreading.

Soon after Newland's discovery,

a second species surfaced
in Maryland,

just 20 miles
from Washington, D.C.

The northern snakehead is built

to survive
cold Siberian winters,

and its presence
set off alarm bells

in the government and the media.

These fish
are top-level predators

that will eat
anything in their path.

They can travel across land

and live out of water
for three days.

Snakeheads reportedly
even attacked humans...

Attacked humans...

James!

This just sort of took off,
and it exploded with the media.

People were calling in
and saying,

"Do we have to worry about
our children

being attacked
on the way to school?

Can we leave our pets
outside in the yard,

or will the snakeheads
eat them?"

Meanwhile, scientists from the
Fish and Wildlife Department

feared that these snakeheads
could unleash ecological havoc,

and in a bid to wipe them out,

they poisoned an entire pond,
killing every last fish.

Yet despite
efforts to exterminate them,

northern snakeheads
are now established

in five states
across the eastern U.S.

Major hype is one thing,

but when a government
is spending millions of dollars

to fight a fish, you know
you've got a serious problem.

I never expected

that I'd be fishing
in a quiet residential area

for fish that have been branded
worse than piranhas.

I'm in South Florida,

just a few miles from where
snakeheads first showed up.

To catch
one of these alien invaders,

I'm using a lure
that imitates live prey.

Most baits and lures,
you've got the hook exposed.

But here, if a fish grabs it,
that's what happens.

I hook up with local guide
Alan Zaremba,

an experienced snakehead angler.

Very nice.

Look at that.

Oh, there's one!
Oh, no more.

Aah!
That's the first cast.

And the frog had a huge lump
of salad with it, as well,

and the fish went for meat
and veg but didn't hook up.

Ah!
That was a hit and a miss.

That's another snakehead.

The problem
with the snakeheads...

When they attack,
you get one shot at them.

They don't come back
for a second shot.

But what do they eat?
It's not just fish, is it?

They'll eat
anything that's moving,

that they can ambush.

The adults, at least,
appear to be lone hunters.

They're not swarming in packs
like piranhas.

But as I work the banks,

it's clear that these canals
are crawling with snakeheads.

- Oh, yes!
- Ah!

There was a hit.

That was a hit.
That was a hit.

Take another long cast
up that way.

Maybe he's got some amigos here.

Good shot.

Are these fish still part
of the first wave, I wonder,

or has an invasion
already become an occupation?

They're here,
and you're not gonna stop them.

You're not gonna stop
these fish.

They seem to love
these shallow areas,

especially when you get
some weeds piled up,

so they can get up
underneath the weeds.

Did you see that?

Yeah, let it drop.
Let it drop.

- And set the hook.
- Yeah, that is a fish on.

That one came out
right from the side, didn't it?

That came out 4 or 5 feet.

Out of this wake,
just arrowing out.

I've hooked my first snakehead,
and what it lacks in size,

it more than makes up for
with attitude.

Oh!

There we go.
That's it.

Ooh, a bullseye snakehead.

So, now I've actually got
my hands on one of these things,

I can see
why it's called a snakehead.

Very long, thin,
still muscular fish.

I think very often fish which
are long and quite snakelike,

you know, do give
quite strong fights.

And this particular one
is called a bullseye snakehead.

It's got this eyespot
on the tail.

Have a look inside the mouth.
There we go.

That's definitely
the mouth of a predator.

All those teeth there.

And it's not just smaller fish
that it eats.

It eats things like frogs.

That's what I was using...
An imitation frog.

But also things like lizards,
rats, even small ducks.

These fish
are clearly carnivorous,

but do they deserve
their reputation

for extreme aggression?

It's very easy
to go on the Internet,

and just
in a matter of a few minutes,

you can find stuff like this.

These are clips put up by people
who keep pet snakeheads,

and this is what happens
when they feed them live fish.

Just like pet snakes,

these predatory fish
prefer their food alive.

When they strike, it just
happens too fast to see it,

and it's certainly too fast

for the small fish
to take any avoiding action.

People always talk about
predators being aggressive.

But most predators actually kill
for a reason... They need food.

But these fish here, they just
need to kill as a reflex.

They'll bite something in half
and then just leave it to die.

I'm used to fishing
for predators,

but actually seeing
the moment of the strike

like this, in lurid close-up, I
have to say, is pretty gruesome.

They really do seem to be
natural-born killers.

These pet snakeheads
are mere minnows.

Just imagine what a 40-pounder
could do to a child or a dog.

Looking at these clips
really begs the question,

who set these violent offenders
loose in America and why?

Lieutenant Pat Reynolds
keeps a close eye

on the illegal-wildlife trade
in South Florida

and was called in
to investigate.

I think they're getting

a delivery
of saltwater products here.

The guy has a game fish
in the back of his truck,

and you cannot sell it.

When this fish was first found

in the waterways here,
what was your involvement, then,

leading on from that?

I was alerted
by our fishery biologists.

They suspected very strongly
that these were released

particularly in the Oriental
trade, or the Asian trade.

Quite frankly, the first store
I went into had them,

and we tracked them
back to New York City.

They were coming in
through New York,

brought down here
by an Oriental wholesaler

who was distributing them
to the market.

I inspect the airport in Miami,
and, yes, they did come in.

We made arrests,
and we seized the fish.

Possessing a live snakehead
can now land you in jail.

But you're allowed to catch
and even sell these fish

if you put them on ice.

Snakeheads are highly prized
by many Asian-Americans

and not just
because they taste good.

How much do they go for?

Oh, $15 or $20 each?

When you sell it.

Mm-hmm.

Helps the healing process.

Yeah. Yeah.

We believe
they were intentionally released

with the idea that
an entrepreneur, a businessman,

was gonna go catch them
and sell them into this trade.

So, not somebody
keeping one in a tank,

and it's just too big,
or they get bored with them.

No, somebody intentionally
put them out there

so they could
go harvest them later.

Right.

And they wouldn't have to
import them from New York.

Here's what we tell everybody.

If you catch them...
'cause they are good eating...

Don't throw it back.

Put it on ice,
take it home, and eat it.

Soon after they arrived here,

snakeheads caught
the imagination of filmmakers.

The alien invaders were cast
as slithering assassins,

as superfish that could somehow
crawl out of the water

and attack dogs
or unsuspecting humans.

It's easy to dismiss this
movie monster as pure fantasy.

And yet remarkably,
much of it is based on fact.

Some of the traits
that the media picked up on

are true.

The fish can survive
out of water.

Some of them can move over land.

They do have
high levels of aggression.

Does this mean
that snakeheads could,

under certain conditions,

become the backyard predators
of our nightmares?

Fish biologist Ray Waldner has
studied snakeheads in detail.

It is an air-breather.
It can use atmospheric oxygen.

You'll see the fish
come up to the surface

and literally lift its head up
a little bit,

grab a mouthful of air,
and then submerge again.

Snakeheads have a special
chamber above the gills

that acts as a simple lung.

When it gulps air,
oxygen diffuses

into an encircling mesh
of blood vessels.

If they're in
a very stagnant area,

where the oxygen levels
in the water are very, very low,

the fish are still able to
survive,

so they can survive
under conditions

that would definitely kill
other fishes.

But it also allows the fish
to live out of the water.

So far, so Hollywood.

But are snakeheads mobile enough

to threaten anyone on land?

A few years ago, Paul Shafland
brought some back to his lab

and put them to the test.

He's moving, okay?

But he's not making
a real directional movement.

Most of the time,
they sat like this,

with a little bit of flipping.

But the snakehead has
just soft pectorals.

It doesn't have
a way to support itself.

They seem to burn out
pretty quick.

Experts agree

that some snakeheads
do travel across land.

In areas with seasonal flooding,

it enables them to spread
into new lakes and rivers.

The patio-prowling monster,
however,

looks suspiciously like a myth.

In their element,
I've seen that snakeheads

hit fast and hit hard.

They are very aggressive.

Anything that comes close,
they will tear into.

Leaving aside
any possible threat to people,

I'm starting to wonder
what happens to other animals

when the fish-equivalent
of special forces

suddenly turns up.

I don't think
there's much around

that they probably
wouldn't go after.

Undoubtedly, the snakeheads

are feeding
on these native fishes,

such as bass and sunfish,

the crappies that we have here,
golden shiners.

I think
all of those are fair game,

and there are
numerous others, as well.

If there's anything
that's a little bit different

about the bullseye snakehead's
feeding habits,

is the breadth of foods
that it will take.

If something
is close enough to it

and it can get it in its mouth,
it'll eat it.

This is a stomach
from a bullseye snakehead.

This is a tilapia.

They'll also eat native fish...

There's two mosquito fish
in there.

This is a crayfish
that was in a stomach.

This is the marine toad.
They've even had a snake.

And as you can see,
the whole snake was eaten.

This is actually
a cannibalistic snakehead.

This is a juvenile snakehead.

There's even been some turtles.

The breadth is very interesting.

Snakeheads are starting
to sound like eco-monsters,

invaders with the power to mow
down everything in their path.

In the snakehead, we've got

a fish that could be
potentially devastating.

The danger is to the native
fishes, native aquatic species.

That's where the problem lies.

Snakeheads, it seems,
hold all the aces.

Not only can they thrive
in stagnant water,

but females are able to produce
100,000 young per year.

And it gets worse.

My main concern comes

because snakeheads show
very extreme parental care.

They vehemently, aggressively
guard their spawn

and will voraciously attack

anything
that comes close to them,

anything that poses a threat.

With such fertile
and protective parents,

snakeheads have the potential
to multiply rapidly.

What's more, few native
predators are willing

to take on an adult snakehead,

so there's little
to keep them in check.

Nothing more than an earth bank

now stands between
Florida's snakehead infestation

and the
Everglades National Park,

a vital refuge
for endangered wildlife.

How far these predators
will spread is anyone's guess,

but there is
another alien invader

that some people fear
offers a disturbing preview

of where the snakehead story
is heading.

In Florida, I found

that snakeheads are aggressive,
air-breathing predators

that'll eat pretty much
everything on the menu.

Now I head north
to the Illinois River

to witness what happens when
an alien invader does run riot.

Skipper and research scientist
Greg Sass

isn't taking any chances.

What's the idea behind the net?

This gives one little bit
of defense for the driver,

trying to protect himself.

Okay, and what happened there?

Occasionally,
we get such large ones

that come up into the net
with such force,

that they'll actually blow
a hole right through it.

40 years ago,

catfish farmers in the South
imported a fish from China

to clean up waste
from the breeding ponds.

Before long,
some escaped into the wild

and began spreading north

through the Mississippi River
system.

Like snakeheads today,

they weren't an obvious problem
at first.

Then, almost overnight,
they became a plague.

Just absolutely
full of fish down here.

Nice, flat, calm surface,

but there's loads of them
down there.

Quite a fish soup, in fact.

It's not until
Greg accelerates, though,

that the show begins.

These are silver carp,
and at up to 40 pounds,

they're a serious danger
to anyone in an open boat.

Quite literally,
they've smashed people's ribs

and knocked people overboard.

Oh, blimey!

Seeing these as dots
on the sonar is one thing,

but just the noise of our motor

provokes
this mass-escape response.

There's up to 13 tons
of these fish

for every mile in the river,
and that's hundreds of miles.

They go all the way down
to the mouth of the Mississippi.

Just 10 years ago, the carp
were virtually unknown here.

Now they've all but taken over.

Ah!

Absolutely stiff with fish.

There we go.
Look at this.

There's more silver than green
in the water there.

I actually feel the boat
being buffeted

as they're banging into it.

Whoops.

So, who needs a rod?

These things
just jump into the boat.

The real key to the success
of this fish is in here.

So, there's the red
of the gill filaments,

and then in front of that,
that is basically a filter.

And nothing
really gets through that.

That filters down to objects
the size of 4 microns.

That's, you know,
a speck of dust.

It's a bit like us feeding every
time we breathe, basically.

So that's why these things
are putting on the weight.

And by just removing everything
from the water,

they're leaving nothing for the
native species, like buffalo,

which are also filter feeders,

but they're just not as good
at it as these chaps are.

So those native species,
they're gradually losing weight,

and, you know,
if they get too thin,

then they're not able to breed,

and that's just why
these things are taking over.

As they put the squeeze
on native fishes,

the carp are also knocking out
an entire fishing industry.

If a filter feeder
can cause such damage,

then what about
a hard-core predator?

Are snakeheads,
like these silver carp,

also destined to explode
out of control?

My guess is we're gonna see

some real problems arise

in the next several years
from snakeheads

both competing with and
preying upon our native fishes.

The fish have the potential
to absolutely take over.

Between them, the bullseye
and northern snakeheads

have what it takes to overrun
most of North America.

If they do,

then fisheries worth
over $30 billion to the economy

could take a massive hit,
and it doesn't end here.

A third, much larger
member of the gang

has been turning up sporadically

from Maine down to Arkansas.

The giant snakehead is a beast

that can weigh as much
as a 5-year-old child,

and it comes
with a nasty reputation.

I've heard stories of the
giant snakehead attacking humans

and even
a case of one individual

being killed
by a giant snakehead.

To track down
this would-be invader

and find out if it really is
as dangerous as people say,

I must travel
to the far side of the world.

I'm in Thailand, and I waste
no time heading up-country.

My destination
is a place called Khao Laem,

a remote dam on the upper
reaches of the River Kwai,

close to the Burmese border.

This is prime snakehead habitat,

and I've come here
in the middle of a monsoon,

just when the fish
are at their most aggressive.

It's their breeding season,
and they're said to attack

anything that comes close
to their fry, including people.

Yet the giant snakehead
is also a popular food fish.

Many people here farm them
to sell.

Snakehead
really do lend themselves

to this type of business,
this type of culture.

They are really, really tolerant

to low oxygen levels
in the water,

and you can see they're
coming up to the air there,

blowing out the spent air,
and taking another gulp.

And, also,
they look very pretty.

They look very pretty
when they're small.

And you can absolutely
understand

why people would want
to have those

in their aquarium in Florida,
for example.

Even in these
cramped conditions,

the giant snakehead fry
are thriving.

By one month,
they've doubled in size

and are growing ever more
hungry for flesh.

Breakfast is pulped fish.

But this ravenous swarm
has never been hand-fed.

So it's going to be
a test of nerve for them

as well as for me.

I've watched snakeheads
not much bigger than these

rip into finger-sized fish.

There's one or two pecking.
There's one or two.

Ah.

Right up to late-juvenile stage,

these snakeheads
school and feed together.

The stories I've read
of voracious packs

are starting to make sense.

I've come to Thailand
to find out

if the giant snakehead
really does attack people.

And within a day
of arriving here,

I track down a man

bearing the scars
of a bloody encounter.

All the reports
of snakehead attacks on humans

concern just one species...
The giant snakehead.

Like many people here,
Sombat lives by the water

and often encounters
these aggressive fish.

What happened was that he needed
to swim underneath his raft

to replace some of the bamboo...
It gets a bit rotten.

It's as he's fixing his raft

that Sombat senses
something behind him.

With nowhere to hide,

he's face-to-face
with a giant snakehead.

It actually put its fins out,
a bit like an elephant

when an elephant is threatening
to charge.

Before Sombat can move,
the fish has savaged his foot.

It was actually bleeding so bad
that he went to the hospital.

The people there didn't believe

that it was a fish
that was responsible.

They thought it was a dog

and actually ended up
giving him rabies jabs.

So, I mean, what we've got here
is a very dramatic example

of what appears to be
a completely unprovoked attack.

Sombat's story proves to me

that a giant snakehead
will attack

something
far bigger than itself.

It seems to be a fish

that really does punch
well above its weight.

Like its cousin the bullseye,

the giant snakehead
is an ambush predator

that favors
areas with plenty of cover.

For several hours,

I work the banks
and shallow bays of the dam

without getting
so much as a nibble.

Fishing for snakeheads here
is a world away from Florida,

where the hits came
thick and fast.

With Sombat's story
still fresh in my mind,

I send a lure
towards an abandoned raft.

Oh, yes!

Whee!

A giant snakehead.

Whoo!

This fish is only 1/10th
the size of a full-grown adult,

but it's certainly got
some attitude.

Very toothy... I wonder if I can
just get my hand in there.

Its snakelike appearance

has led to the belief
in some places

that this fish
has a poisonous bite.

Fortunately,
this simply isn't true.

That is, uh, yeah.

That is
a bit of a toothy critter.

Although it's got
a fierce reputation,

quite a beautiful fish, really.

I've hand-fed
the carnivorous fry

and been snapped at
by a bolshie juvenile,

but everyone here tells me that
if I want to "catch the daddy,"

then I must first pay a visit
to the man who knows how.

To find this snakehead guru,

I travel deeper into
Khao Laem's muddy backwaters.

Kun Da is the master hunter.

Over the past 20 years,

he's gained an unrivaled
knowledge of his quarry.

Forget nets or rods.

For Da,
catching a giant snakehead

is more like armed combat,

and his weapon of choice
is the spear gun.

The problem with this spear gun

is that it takes
a long time to reload,

so Kun Da has actually invented
his own rapid-reload spear,

which is much simpler
but much more effective.

The key feature
of Da's homemade gun

is that he can re-arm it
quickly.

As he explains, this is crucial

when you're hunting
a fish that defends in pairs.

Unusually for a fish,

snakeheads fiercely guard
their young.

But Da's own
close-quarter observations

add a further twist
to the story.

While the father corrals
the cluster of fry,

the mother patrols
at a distance,

primed to attack anything

that looks like
a threat to her offspring.

What's interesting is that
this is coming from somebody

who is actually observing
these creatures

closer than any scientist,

and the reason for that
is not only his livelihood,

but possibly
his life depends on it.

Da knows that if he shoots
one snakehead,

he still has to watch his back.

Stories of people
being mauled by snakeheads

are not uncommon around here.

But now I've picked up
a more disturbing lead.

I cross to the far side
of Khao Laem Dam,

just 12 miles from Burma.

People sometimes
slip across the border

to fish here for a day or two,

then melt back into the jungle
with their catch.

I'm used to tall tales,

but the story I'm about to hear
is so freakish

that no one could possibly
have made it up.

Thai fisherman Kun Lang
vividly recalls

the Burmese couple
that came here

three years ago
to hunt snakeheads.

So, what actually happened

was that the fisherman was under
the water with his spear gun,

shot the snakehead head-on, and
actually scored a direct hit.

The fish then
just kept on coming

and shoved the rear end
of the metal spear

through the fisherman's mask
and into his face.

The fish
was just panicking so much.

It was thrashing.

Fish doesn't have
a reverse gear.

It just kept flapping.

Apparently,
the spear actually came

out the back of the man's head.

The wife was still sitting
in the boat,

dived down into the water,
and found the fisherman dead.

Well, I actually came here
doubting these stories,

doubting that this fish

has actually been responsible
for any fatalities,

and here we have
a very graphic case

of a snakehead
causing a human fatality.

I've deliberately timed
my trip here

to coincide with the giant
snakehead's breeding season.

This is when the fish
are at their most aggressive,

as they guard their young
against all comers.

A fleeting ripple shows me

where the fry
have just surfaced to gulp air.

By dropping my lure
right on top of them,

I'm trying to provoke a strike
from one of the parents.

But it seems
that these canny adults know

all about fishing lures.

The only snakehead that has
a go is a 10-inch juvenile.

Small snakehead.

With the rain beating down,
it soon becomes impossible

to spot the fry as they surface,

let alone get the attention
of the parents.

I'm trying to create
a disturbance on the surface

to wind the fish up.

When the water's calm,
you've got no competition.

It's the only thing
making a noise.

When you got rain
falling on the water,

the signal's very confused.

You've got to land that bait
much closer to the fish

to get them to notice it.

The weather
isn't about to let up.

But worse than this, and for
reasons that aren't made clear,

I've just been told

that I'm not allowed
to fish here anymore.

So if I'm ever going to get
face-to-face with this monster,

I'm going to have to pack away
my rods and do it another way.

I return to Kun Da,
the master hunter.

My plan is to dive with him

as he goes after
the giant snakehead

with nothing more
than a pair of old goggles

and the homemade spear gun.

In these choppy conditions,

I'm straining
to spot the surfacing fry.

Yet Kun Da's predatory eye

picks out the slight ripple
that gives them away.

Ready?

And with our target pinpointed,
the hunt can begin.

I'm getting a bit nervous,

'cause it is totally
another world down there.

By diving with a small camera,

I hope to capture
the entire drama as it unfolds.

Everything has to happen
on a single breath,

so before going under,

we edge as close as we can
to our target.

But when Da suddenly slips in
and vanishes without trace,

he leaves me
scrambling to catch up.

Bad weather has churned
the water into a murky soup.

And with Da gone,
I feel a stab of panic.

I could easily wind up
getting harpooned by mistake.

The poor visibility
is even hampering Da.

It's murky down there.
It's murky.

I'm having second thoughts
about this.

I'm starting to feel
like human bait.

But it's too late
to pull out now.

Da is a man on a mission.

When the fry break the surface
barely a boat length away,

we launch again.

But our quarry has vanished
into the murk,

leaving Da to hunt on instinct.

Da loads.
I can sense we're close.

Suddenly, we're in the heart
of the swarm.

I think we've got one!
I'm gonna keep out of the way.

I'm gonna keep out of the way.

With a single, well-aimed shot,

Da has caught a giant snakehead.

Sitting in a boat,
dangling a line over the edge,

believe me,
is easy in comparison.

Despite taking a direct hit,

the fish simply
seems to shrug it off.

Oops.
Didn't like that.

Having listened to accounts
of its aggressive behavior...

and seen for myself
the scars on Sombat's foot,

I'm well aware of what this
river monster is capable of.

So, there we go.

But that wonderful
black-and-white coloration,

that is very much

something that the fry will
identify with... bright color.

It's calling to them.

I expected this fish
to end up as dinner,

yet in a strange twist of fate,
it's almost unharmed.

Da's spear has pierced
the muscle of its back

but missed its vital organs.

We're actually gonna release
this fish.

This is catch-and-release
spearfishing.

How very nice
that this is gonna go back

and it is going to recover.

I'm just hoping
it doesn't double back

and have a go at me
as a last farewell.

She's actually free now.
She can go if she wants.

There she goes.

Well, it's gone,
gone back into the lake,

to be reunited with the young.

So, really good to see.

You don't expect to see that
from a fish caught on a spear.

Of all the encounters I've had
with dangerous fish,

this had to be
one of the most unnerving.

Down in that murky water,
I could hardly see anything.

I didn't know if I was
going to be attacked by the fish

or maybe even end up myself
on the end of Kun Da's spear.

But over the course
of my journey,

a clearer picture
of the snakehead has emerged.

The two species
that have reached America

pose no direct threat to humans,
although in the eyes of many,

their presence is an unfolding
environmental disaster.

But in Southeast Asia,
I have found a fish

that does deserve
to be called a monster...

The word made flesh.

This animal is already
knocking on America's door.

If the giant snakehead ever
gains a foothold in America,

then you really would have to
think twice

about getting in the water.