The King of Lake Panic’s Fishy Dilemma 

 There’s a reason it’s called Lake Panic—During the building process, something went wrong, causing an unexpected rush of water that led to a moment of chaos. and it’s not just because of the twitchy impalas drinking on the water’s edge. No, sometimes the panic comes from above, particularly when a certain feathered fisherman bites off more than he can chew. 

This particular morning at Lake Panic in the Southern Kruger, a Giant Kingfisher, let’s call him Basil, had struck gold—or, more accurately, silver. With a spectacular dive, he emerged victorious, a fish flapping furiously in his oversized beak. But there was one small problem: the fish was nearly the size of Basil himself. 

Perched proudly on a tree stump jutting out of the water, Basil began the intricate process of repositioning his prize. He tossed it this way, then that, attempting to line it up just right for the all-important swallow. But the fish had other ideas, wriggling like an overzealous salsa dancer at a Friday night fiesta. 

By now, Basil had attracted an audience. A couple of opportunistic pied kingfishers hovered nearby, their tiny brains whirring as they calculated the chances of Basil botching the job. Below, the fish’s watery comrades lurked, undoubtedly whispering words of encouragement: “Hold on, Steve! You can make it back!” 

Basil, however, was no amateur. He knew one wrong move could see his breakfast slip back into the drink, never to be seen again (except, possibly, in a smug tilapia reunion). With a decisive flick of his wings, he abandoned his precarious perch and flapped towards terra firma, determined to finish his meal in a safer location—where gravity and an unforgiving lake weren’t working against him. 

A few moments later, a satisfied Basil sat triumphantly on a sturdy branch, the last of his wriggling breakfast disappearing down his gullet. His audience dispersed, disappointed but enlightened: when in doubt, take your fish to-go. 

And somewhere beneath the surface of Lake Panic, a school of fish mourned the loss of Steve—who had been so close to the great escape.