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There is a big fish in the Mirror Lake – 30 to 40 meters long, they say.

Though not as famous as the monster in Kanas Lake in Xinjiang, the news has spread far and wide.

Is it a promotional stunt or media hype? I don’t give a hoot. I am just telling what I heard, and I have nothing to do with any media. But on the other hand...

My uncle, a retired lumberjack, lives by the Mirror Lake. He used to work for a transport company, pulling logs from nearby mountains to the shore, where they would be floated to the other side of the lake. I have never seen such spectacular "shipping" in person. My only impression of the scene comes from a print, and I am glad it is nothing but a print.

At their home in the mountains my uncle and his wife raised a cow, two pigs, three beehives, some chickens and a dog. They also keep a garden. I paid my first visit when rumors of the big fish swirled. But it has never been caught, never.

My uncle and aunt were collecting honey in the sweltering autumn sunshine. He was in a tee-shirt, bare-armed, and encircled by a humming swarm of bees. The sight terrified me – some of the insects were creeping in his thin hair and on his wife’s nose.

I set up my video recorder, camera and high-powered telescope in the courtyard, all pointing towards the lake like a line of cannons. My uncle and aunt didn’t say a word.

"Is there really a monster fish in the lake? Have you ever seen one?" I asked. Thinking for a while, he replied, "Remember, you must not tell anyone." He emphasized the word "anyone."

"There will be trouble if people find out. If they hadn’t known about the giant pine trees, they would still be here today and for another thousand years. As soon as people discovered them, the trees disappeared; even their seedlings barely survive."

Full of curiosity, I interrupted, "Please, tell me the truth. Is there monster fish in the lake?" The old man gave me a hard look, falling into silence. Suddenly I sensed something unusual in the air. The dog, which was scampering around a few minutes ago, bolted into his nest under the window, with ears flattened and tail tucked. The chickens stopped pecking, stuck out their necks and listened. Then they ran towards the fence.

Now I understood my uncle's look. Dark clouds were gathering overhead, but the sunshine was not subdued. Birds in the woods seemed to hear a signal and suddenly fell silent. A mist rose over the lake, followed by a surge of waves over a meter high. After rows and rows of waves came the big fish!

Then it disappeared; and everything was back to normal.

My cameras were useless; I didn't even have time to turn them on. I threw myself to the ground, frustrated. The chickens started to fight, the dog dashed out of the yard and began barking at the lake, and birds resumed their song. What happened to all of the animals and plants in the area? I asked myself.

"They have their way of life, we have ours. We don’t have to interfere with the other," my uncle said with his usual composure. "You were lucky to see it. The fish may not emerge for several years," my aunt nodded.

In the following month I stayed at my uncle's home. I slept little, ate little, and rarely spoke, but felt peace of mind. My uncle and his wife were happily occupied with their daily routine amid the groan of their cow and pigs. Life was going on as it should be.

One night my aunt brought homemade wine to the dinner table, over which my uncle told me another bizarre story about the woods.

The wild man? Aliens? You will never figure it out, so don’t waste your time. And I, as my uncle insisted, will keep it to myself however pressed.