"The Night Patrol." The Chira fishermen chased by rain. Soon, it will be twilight, and then full dark, and all but a pair of these boats will be pulled to shore for the evening, and the men will bring their catches home for dinner. Two boats, however, will remain out there on the choppy water, even as the veil of night descends; they are the two men elected for the midnight patrol. On Chira, the fisherman’s association has agreed upon the rules of fishing in the waters off the island: there are size restrictions on certain species and limits to the amount of fish that a fisherman can pull into his boat, as well as a veda (a ban) on trawling and long-line fishing practices, which often result in collateral damage beyond the target species. For the most part, the fishers of Chira adhere to these rules— but not always. To enforce the sustainable practices, each night two men take their turn to patrol the protected waters from dusk til dawn, keeping their eyes on the horizon and searching always for the light of a poacher’s boat, listening eternally for the casting of a line. The men that they are out there catching in the act are their neighbors, maybe their uncles or their cousins; it is not an easy thing to do. Over the years, I have gone out with the patrols for a few hours at a time, and I have asked the men the most difficult part of this responsibility. They have always, without fail, replied, “The loneliness.”