
The next morning was equally wonderful another perfect day! A variety of birds were beginning to awaken. I watched them take off from their nesting areas soaring gracefully into the morning sky, the start of another languid and sultry
I carried the scull down to the water’s edge. The scull at 22 and a half feet long was a bit awkward to maneuver but not heavy, only about
I rowed closer to him. Hi” I said. “Hi”, he said back. “Ja see the other alligator?” he asked. “Other alligator?”, I replied. “Right there” he said again raising the same tanned arm and pointing to the waters edge. “Oh, is that an alligator?” I said. “”Yup, right there in the reeds” he said. “Oh. Wow”, I said “Well, I must be going”, beating a hasty retreat. I saw nothing but maybe a lumpy area near the bank of the lake. Huh, I thought, another alligator, well I’ll be damned.
I had to row by that exact spot of the alleged alligator. As I passed the spot I turned my head to look. A log like thing slid out vertically from the bank at a 90 degree angle. I stared. We made eye contact. It did not like me. It was observing me. The eyes were like golf balls but the snout considerably smaller than the one yesterday, only eight or nine feet. A little alligator, I thought. I turned again; it was still there. It was watching me. It wanted to know where I was going. I started processing the information somewhat faster than yesterday. Jesus Christ, that’s a female alligator protecting its nest and here I am on Pamela. It probably thinks Pamela wants to eat her babies. If I stop at my house it will know where I live. It will come and get me. It will wait for me. It can’t know where I live! I rowed by my house not even hesitating. I keep going until I couldn’t see it anymore. I then turned around, rowed back, stopped nervously at my house, got gingerly out of the scull and scrambled up the embankment. I tethered the scull to a tree leaving it in the water until I had a cup of coffee. Three days later it was still there. I finally got up the nerve to get the scull out of the water. It would be a frosty fourth before I ever ventured out on that lake. Once is a warning, twice is a gift, three times and your out.
I called a local agency to complain about the alligators in
Pamela was sold to a sculling center in
4 comments:
Seared in my cerebellum is the synaptic image of you straddling
Pamela. I am left a 35 pound shell of my former self and languid and
sultry to boot (boat?). How then to explain this lugubrious mood; how
then to comprehend the totalitarian glow of a cerulean sky and the
magnetic emanation drawing me ever closer to the community center.
Wouldn't it be nice if alligators liked limpkins???? If so, you could try boating again!
I don't think anything would get me out on the lake again
Isn't the photo a croc?
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