He is ready to crawl under his sleeping sack to bed down and catching a meal. He nearly fell down, nodding off to sleep with his pole crossed over his chest, fishing. He daydreamed he was sleeping in his sack when everything started spinning; he woke up just in time to stop from falling in the water. Those catfish would not bite; he might as well skip it and eat tomorrow before he falls asleep in the creek.
Moonlit swimming was ill-advised, unless you wanted to be eaten.