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Trapping wild devilfish could support modest demand, he says, but to scale up, they might ultimately need to be farmed—carefully.

“You mean devilfish? I didn’t know there was any there. I’ve lived here all my life.”

I tried to drag the devilfish out of the water, but my strength was gone.

I saw there a “witches’ scene” of an old Indian woman boiling devilfish or octopus in a kettle over a campfire, splendidly lit against the gloom of night, and all reflected in the water.

An overturned stump with bleaching roots appears like a hideous devilfish with arms ready to entwine and crush.