“Far off in the red mangroves an alligator has heaved himself onto a hummock of grass and lies there, studying his poems.” — Mary Oliver
There are many wild and wonderful things about Florida, but none so fascinating as the alligator. When I first moved here in 2000 as a young reporter for the then-St. Petersburg Times, I was convinced that the prehistoric-looking reptiles lurked in every body of fresh water.
I wasn’t wrong, and it wasn’t long until I wrote my first alligator story: a man discovered a gator in his carport. It was snoozing in the shade, under the man’s Ford Mustang.
“He was big and ferocious. It looked like he was going to attack something,” declared the Mustang’s owner.
Eeek.
Since then, I’ve written a lot of alligator stories as a journalist, but I’ve gotten over my inherent fear of them. If I don’t mess with them, I figure, they won’t mess with me. That’s why I stay away from the banks of lakes, rivers, canals and other fresh water — especially when I’m with my dogs. But when I do see one in the wild, I love to gawk at them (from afar).
On my daily walks around a local lake here in Pinellas County, I always stay on the path and keep an eye out for the reptiles — because I know they’re somewhere, lurking in the water or the muck.
