Gotta Get Me Some Gator

I have a confession to make, a confession that might leave some of my island friends wondering if I live the life of a recluse when I’m not with them. But here goes.

I’ve lived in coastal Carolina for almost eight years, and until two days ago, I had never seen an alligator in the wild. From my vantage point, I may be the only islander who’s managed this long without a sighting.

My island friends who live near lagoons, for instance, likely see them with regularity. Alligators are generally adverse to salt water, however, so because my old home was by the ocean and my new home is on a salt marsh, this greatly reduces my chances of seeing one by my house.

Thank the Lord for that. What a pity.

Even my mother, who’s never lived anywhere near the Southeastern coast, saw several alligators years ago while vacationing not that far from where I now live. This is nothing new; I wrote last year about how, while visiting me, she managed to bump into the one lone islander who attempted to scare the living daylights out of probably anyone within earshot with her hyperbolic tales of island danger (rouge waves, fly infestations rivaling the plagues of Exodus and the like). Therefore, it’s no wonder my mom would also inadvertently include the drama of multiple alligator sightings into what was likely a weekend getaway, all while her daughter can’t manage to find one ripple in the water with a slight hint of danger to it during her eight-year tenure here.

In truth, I do have a slight fear of alligators, one that dates back to first grade. In first grade, I had this recurring dream where I would be walking in the snow by a small, inexplicably unfrozen pond near my house. In the dream, I would always be wearing my one-piece snowsuit, one that reduced my overall mobility by 87%. Suddenly, I’d slip on the snow bank and slide down, down, down into the pond, where an alligator sat smiling beneath the murky waters. I was six, so I was clearly unfettered by reality, which dictates that an alligator would never be in an area like Chicago, with temperatures often below the freezing level. Years later, however, the implausible dream is still vivid in my mind.

At any rate, my lack of gator sightings started to really bother me earlier this year, so I began trying to look for one. Recently, I even made my family pull over to the side of the road, commanding the kids to stay in the minivan, while LCB and I looked for what I thought was a gator in the middle of a lagoon. It turned out, predictably, to be a turtle.

Then, a couple of weeks ago, my younger son came home from his field trip, the very one I had tried to join him on, saying he had witnessed an alligator crossing the road from one lagoon to another.

So close, yet so far away.

Less you misunderstand, let me make one thing clear right here and right now: If I magically wake up one day a new person, a Navy SEAL with a doctoral degree in alligator studies, I will still never attempt to go near one. Seriously, I’ve watched the video of the man from North Carolina who tried to jump on that gator, and for the life of me, I don’t know what that man was thinking, bless his wrestling little heart. I’ll gladly live without the Wrestled an Alligator Barehanded badge on my Girl Scout vest. But, stories like these coupled with the fact that I may have been the only islander I knew who had not seen one even once made me anxious to see one from afar, just once.

Last Saturday, then, while I was painting, LCB took the small people out to drive a remote control boat in a nearby lagoon, where they saw the eyes of what looked like a small alligator swimming toward their boat. When they told me the story later, I again voiced my interest in seeing one myself.

Therefore the next day, when they all returned to the lagoon for another peek (I was planning to meet them there shortly) and saw an alligator sitting by the edge of the water, LCB quickly called me. I grabbed my camera and ran, quite literally, to meet them.

There it was, lounging at the water’s edge.

I crept closer, taking pictures, while LCB managed the small people from a distance.

As I got closer (but trust me, not that close), it pushed away from the edge, gliding noiselessly out into the lagoon.

Y’all, I saw my first wild alligator.

I think I’m good now, thanks.