In 1884, the Irish Archaeological Society published a book that had sat untouched for two centuries.

While historian Rodric O'Flarady had written much about the land and people of Ireland over his lifetime,

it was his survey of his own home territory, West Connacht, that was the most personal and intimate,

and it contained a mystery.

According to O'Flarady, in 1674, a man was walking past a large lake that sat on the border of his family land,

when he saw something.

It was the shape of an animal's head moving across the surface of the water toward him,

nothing unusual in a region known for otters, but it was moving rather fast.

So the man stopped to take a better look.

That's when the head lifted out of the water, higher than any otter was capable of,

and then charged the shore.

In a heartbeat, the creature had sunk its teeth into the man's arm and pulled him back into the water.

Somehow, in the middle of a cloud of panic and pain, the man remembered that he had a knife in his pocket,

so he pulled it free and plunged it into the side of the creature.

Immediately, the powerful jaws released him and he was able to swim back to shore.

I think it's fair to say that we're all very familiar with the dangers of the vast oceans that cover our planet.

They are dark and deep and full of so much mystery.

In contrast, our freshwater lakes have become places of safety.

We've tamed them for our own uses, their waters clean our bodies, quench our thirst,

and even generate hydroelectricity for our homes.

Lakes are the opposite of dark and mysterious.

Or are they?

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