lhonda
04-15-2009, 11:39 PM
I was certain I posted this here before, but I got several requests to elaborate on the particulars, so am posting up my little story.
************************************************** ******
It was to be a whirlwind trip of about 48 hours from the gate to the
finish line, and no sooner had I touched down from my flight from
Boston to West Palm Beach than we hit the ground running. I'd
met D on an internet hunting site, and we'd casually chatted
about hunting and eventually shared a few hunting stories. As we
both had connections to Japan, in that we found some common ground,
and we hit it off well. A couple years after we'd first
made contact, I casually asked about snapping turtle hunting, and he responded by extending to me a Don Corleone-esque
offer I just couldn't refuse: "how'd you like to join me for something maybe more exciting than a turtle hunt? I have 4 tags for September for Lake Okeechobee—for alligator. Want to go?" He didn't need to ask me twice. I bought my trapping agent's license (D supplied me with his information,
which is required) and bought a plane ticket. All gear was taken
care of by the Florida gang. All I had to do was daydream and count
the days until my departure.
D picked me up at PBI, and after a brief stop at his home to drop
luggage and meet his lovely wife, we headed off to pick up M, D's
friend and hunting partner. The three of us then hopped in the truck
and headed south to meet M's brother W at the boat ramp. I managed
to survive both the south Florida heat and the battering my brain
took from the caterwalling/crooning of Waylon Jensen (or some such)
that was played at an I-believe-blood-is-beginning-to-run-down-my-cheek decibel level en route by the lads. This alligator hunting business was turning out to be a real challenge already.
After a brief wait at the ramp, brother W pulled up hauling his Everglades
210, our alligator hunting shuttle for the evening, and a very nice rig all around. I guess I'd envisioned a johnboat or similar craft, and was pleasantly
surprised by the sleek and comfy 21 footer. There was more than
plenty of room to spare, and after we got the boat ready, we got a
quick lesson on alligator hunting and the gear we'd be using from M
and W. Hunting alligators is legal from 30 minutes before sunset to
sunrise, and we'd be using powerful spotlights to initially locate
them. Their eyes shine pink or red in the light and are easy to see
to a couple hundred yards, but that's the easy part. Getting close
to them is another thing entirely, especially true for the larger
ones. They didn't get large by being stupid. Speaking of large, M
handed me a few pictures on the ride to look at, and I almost
swallowed my tongue when I saw what he had to share. He and his
brother had filled tags for a different zone that they had used a few days
prior, and they got one that was almost 13 feet long, and weighed
somewhere upwards of *700* lbs. Its armored back was 3 and a half
feet across, had front feet that dwarfed a man's--sporting claws 3
inches long--and a head as long as my arm. It was truly a scary,
scary looking beast, one that an unarmed human would have zero
chance of surviving an encounter with in the alligator's element. It
gave me a chill seeing just how big they do get. Hopefully we'd get
a chance at one! Oh, and BTW, they fought that one for 3.5 hours,
and had to tie it off to the boat and drag back. Too heavy for two
guys to lift, it was. As registered commercial trappers, they can and do sell the hides for a tidy profit, paid by the inch.
As far as gear involved, it was threefold: we'd be using a crossbow
with an approximate 175 lb. pull, loaded with a bolt. On the tip of
the bolt was a gig, and a clip. The clip is attached to a 25 yard
length of kevlar line, which itself is attached to a float.
Remember the movie Jaws, where the character Quint shoots the white
shark with the lousy attitude, and the yellow barrel flies off the
bow now attached to the shark? Same idea. That's step one.
http://i108.photobucket.com/albums/n29/birddown/hunt/Crossbowandfloat.jpg
Now, the gig is generally insufficient to kill, or even seriously injure
the `gator. It's merely a means by which to keep the animal close
enough to know where he is and to manipulate a bit, in order to move
on to step two: hitting him with the harpoon. As one might suspect, it generally does not make the beast on the other end very happy; an unfortunate side-effect of skewering, I suppose. Now, the alligator
cannot be horsed toward the boat with the light crossbow gig, as the
gig will pull out under any real pressure. It can, however, be used
hopefully to gently pull the unhappy recipient close enough to the
boat to stick with the harpoon. The harpoon itself has a heavy
flying point, and once jammed through the `gator's hide (not
an easy task, as the hide is tough, and on big ones, thick), is attached to
a sufficiently stout line, rated for some 600 lbs., to be able to use to put some pressure on the beast.
If the harpoon is correctly applied, it usually spells the inevitable end for the
alligator. It does not kill the animal, but rather allows the hunters the
leverage to be able to tire him out and eventually bring him close
enough to the boat for the application of the coup de grace, which
in our case was a full-house 158 grain .357 magnum round to the brain, lovingly applied with a bang stick. I got the impression at the dock that
I was in for a very exciting evening. I was right.
Sunset was at 7:50 that day, and so we would be legal to hunt at
7:20. We waited until 7:15 to pull out, as we wanted no hassle with
the Fish and Game folks. Before we left, D and I practiced using
the crossbow, shooting at a plastic bottle we tossed out for
practice. I didn't find the crossbow super accurate, and found that
it shot plenty high even at 10 yards, but figured it was certainly
still well within our needs.
We headed out as the sun just began to dip below the horizon,
passing first through a lock, then along a rim canal, which runs
beneath a grassy levy along the circumference of the Lake. It got
dark quickly, and as it did, the rains came. With the rain came
copious lightning that often arced and flashed through the sky
horizontally. It was starting to feel a bit eerie, I don't mind
saying. A few words about the lake: it's not like the lakes that I,
as a New Englander, am used to. It's not even close, actually. It
has not tree-lined banks and clear, cold water, and opposite shores
you can usually see. It has not a glass-like appearance and small
waves lapping at the sandy or rocky shores. First, Lake Okeechobee
is simply massive, encompassing some 250 square miles. Ever look at
a map of Florida and see that blue blob near the bottom of the
state, between the Atlantic and the Gulf? That's the one. It is
heavily vegetated, with thick, deep and dense brush, as well as
countless trees and islands in many places. To say its waters are
stained is being generous. It has an amorphous, primordial feeling to it.
It was like a watery jungle, and peering into the shadowy interior of it from the rim canal, I recalled the words of Conrad's Heart of Darkness:
"The offing was barred by a black bank of clouds, and the tranquil
water-way leading to the uttermost ends of the earth flowed somber
under an overcast sky--seemed to lead into the heart of an immense darkness." Oh, dear. The mind, she wanders a bit. I then recall thinking, stream of consciousness fashion, that had I been sporting a set of black PJs and was toting my Chicom 7.62 x 39 mm SKS, I'd maybe have looked the part of a hardened Viet Cong on a run to resupply Uncle Ho's gang. But then they're all rail thin in pictures. OK, nevermind...
W is a capable mariner, and it was decided that we'd push a few
miles down the rim canal before we tried to locate any of the
beasts, and he pushed the throttle to the stops on the Yamaha 150 and
got us a few miles away in a hurry. We didn't want to be too near
the ramp, as the `gators tend to be nervous due to the boat traffic,
and we wanted to be alone and unencumbered by other `gator hunters.
We needn't have worried, as after we left the lock area we saw not
another soul. Before long, we had our first `gator in the beam of
the spotlight. Unlike my impression from some casual readings I'd
done where the alligators simply wait, transfixed like a deer in the
headlights of an oncoming truck, and allow the hunters to take them
at will, I learned alligators can be very wary, and often do not let
the boat approach. That said, some will. The approach must be done
as silently as possible, with a trolling motor rather than the gas-
powered main power plant to get close, then with a drift if at all
possible. All talking must be done is a hushed whisper, and moving
around is kept to a bare minimum, as a clumsy step or dropped item
on the hull will blow the stalk.
The `gators can hear, and likely feel any disturbance that is made on
a boat as it travels through the water. Sometimes it may become
necessary to go upwind and drift down on a likely candidate, as the water slapping against the hull is enough to drive the `gators down and away. As they are capable of staying down on bottom for 15 minutes with ease, if you wish to be successful your cause is best served by moving slowly, and being
very quiet. As with most hunting, stealth is your best friend.
As it happens, the first `gator we got close to was too small. We
had set the bar at 7 feet or better, and if we didn't start having
luck, then we'd bring the bar down. We relied on W and M to do all
field judging and spotting. D and I soon got the hang of what our
tactic was, but it was really nice having those guys who really knew
what they were doing to take the lead. A side note: when we were
moving along searching up ahead with the lights, the mosquitoes were
really bad; I mean *really* bad. When we slowed or stopped, good
grief, the mosquitoes were enough to drive a man insane, seriously.
We had repellent and D had warned me about the biting bugs, so I
brought along a long-sleeved rain jacket, and even in the wet heat
(which I have a great deal of trouble tolerating) I had to suffer
along, happy to have some cover, as any bit of exposed flesh
was fair game for the bugs. Anyone foolhardy or ignorant enough to
try to spend a night on Okeechobee unprepared for the mosquitoes had
better bring a few pints of blood to perform an impromptu on-board
transfusion. I've never been anywhere that was worse in terms of
biting insects. In the grand scheme of things, it was but a small
price to pay, but worth mentioning.
After trying to get close to a couple unsuccessfully, we managed to
find one customer willing to cooperate. D was on the bow with the
crossbow, and we inched closer and closer to the first chance we had
to put one of the beasts on board, all of us silent. His aiming
point was the soft part of the neck, which is mostly beneath the
waterline, making it almost always a pretty tricky shot. We got to
within about 12 feet of the beast when D let fly with the `bow,
which makes a pleasant noise that sounds something like `ka-TOONK!'
when its energy is unleashed. At the hit, the tea-colored water
erupted in furious splashing, and the chase was on for the
first `gator of the trip, who was stuck well and pulling the float
across the surface at a high rate as he stormed away from the boat
and into the deep channel. We gave chase, and soon enough M had the
boat hook out in order to grab the float. The excitement level was
high for all, but D and I decided that the best way for us to learn
was to sit back, stay out of the way and watch how this game is
played by those with a lot of experience, rather than potentially
get in the way and screw things up, or even worse, get someone hurt.
In the back of my mind I remembered the three human fatalities
attributed to alligators this past year in Florida, as well as
pictures included in the FL Fish and Game booklet on the hunt, which
included graphic pictures of a hunter's hand that had been
unceremoniously separated at the wrist from his arm by an angry
alligator. Some talented surgeons managed to reattach it to it
rightful owner, but that kind of excitement we could certainly do
without.
Pretty soon, M had the `gator under the boat, and W got ready with
the harpoon. The `poon is a pretty simple affair, with a wooden
shaft, a steel seat and a steel head. The head detaches after impact
and the heavy line is paid out to the now even unhappier `gator as
he runs again. With that second heavy line in him, however, it's
usually not too long a battle, as with the heavy line, pressure can
be applied to stop and turn him. And so it went. After he tired, it
was W's job to coordinate with brother M and line up the kill shot
with the bang stick at the side of the boat. The `gator generally
now realizes he's in trouble, and begins to frantically roll and
thrash. Unfortunately for him, what he normally ends up doing is
hopelessly wrapping and entangling himself in the lines. His
misfortune is our luck, however, as he tires fairly quickly and I
imagine is quite confused by the whole affair, with the lights and
sounds and boat and lines…Sounds almost like tales of humans being
abducted by aliens. If it is, well, better them than me.
The aim point with the bang stick is dead center and just slightly
*behind* the eyes, essentially in the back of the skull, the idea
being to blow the `gators brain away and end the struggle. Care must
be taken that the discharging bang stick not contact the heavy line,
lest it cut it, and in this case the shot was administered quickly
and efficiently. The gator is then and *only* then touched by hand,
and carefully. The first grab is the most important, as it's on the
business end of the beast. Ma nature saw fit to give the alligator
much grabbing and crushing power, but the muscles it has for this
are built to close with incredible force, not open, and it is a
fairly easy task to keep them closed simply by pinching them
together with both hands. At that time duct tape or electrical tape
is wrapped around the jaws, and the beast is hauled aboard. The
lines and gigs are cut out, the CITES tag is applied, and for big
ones, special care is taken to ensure that the beast is done in by
taking a sharp blade and driving it between the head and neck,
severing the spinal column. The first one went 6' 9", and after re-
rigging, we headed off to find a bigger one.
Basically, the same scenario replayed itself several times
throughout the evening, and although I was eventually successful,
had some trouble pinning one with the crossbow. It's a poor man that
blames a miss on his gear, but then again it wasn't mine... In all
seriousness, I missed clean several times, but did manage to finally
connect on a 7' 4" specimen.
After the first one, we all participated in the hunt, and it was a wonderful team effort experience. W ran the boat and scanned behind for `gators, as
well as manning the bang stick and tape. M did all the rigging,
scanned for `gators, fought the beasts on the lines and did all the
field judging. I ended up being on the harpoon for three of the four
we got and helped M haul them all aboard. D was the man on the
bow with the crossbow, ran the boat when W was preoccupied and
took care of any number of things that needed to be addressed.
Truly, it was a collective endeavor, and an absolute blast. I could
not believe my fortune in being invited to come along on this
alligator adventure with a truly wonderful crew, and am deeply
grateful to the brothers for sharing their wealth of experience and
resources with me, and particularly to D, who made this possible for
me. It's something I'll never forget, and will be doing again, I
hope.
The last `gator we got was the big one for the night, and measured I
think close 9 and a half feet. His weight I'm guessing would be
close to 300 lbs. D made a good shot on him, and he actually dragged
the float under with him twice. I managed to drive the harpoon deep
into him as he surfaced, and he then pulled the 21 foot boat with
four men in it across the channel onto the far side. A truly
exhilarating time we had fighting him, and he required two slugs to
the head as well as the chisel and hammer (to sever the spinal cord)
after we managed to get him on board. These things look every part
the living dinosaurs, do not give up the ghost quietly and by God, hunting them is fun with a capital `F'. We ended up with a limit of four, with one just shy of 7', two at 7' and change and one at almost 9 and a half feet. The
hunt exceeded my grandest expectations in every way.
http://i108.photobucket.com/albums/n29/birddown/hunt/Thecrewbackatthedock.jpg
The 12 hours plus we spent skinning them and butchering them the
next day wasn't rated very high in the fun category, but it's a
package deal, of course, and with about 30 pounds of meat ready for
the deep fryer, the toothy skull destined to live in my cabinet, the
fine hide I'll have tanned and made into my wife's new handbag and
maybe a few wallets make it worth it ten times over. That said, the
real treasure for me was the experience, the memory and a new
friendship. D welcomed me into his home like an old friend, and
spending time with he and his wife was a treat. His friends made me
feel totally comfortable and we laughed long and hard all night. We
eventually arrived back at his pad as the sun was rising, and caught
a few hours sleep with the `gators on ice, which filled the Toyota's
bed. The entire next day we worked the `gators, and then we caught
dinner out. A few hours later I was catching a jet back north to
wrap up the trip.
Those southern boys know how to have fun, that's for sure. D, big
thanks to you and the lads, and I'm waiting to hear from you guys to
let me know you're all coming up here to allow me to return the
favor this Fall or Winter. No need to bring the bug spray, but we
may need to talk about slightly heavier clothes…
Cheers,
L
************************************************** ******
It was to be a whirlwind trip of about 48 hours from the gate to the
finish line, and no sooner had I touched down from my flight from
Boston to West Palm Beach than we hit the ground running. I'd
met D on an internet hunting site, and we'd casually chatted
about hunting and eventually shared a few hunting stories. As we
both had connections to Japan, in that we found some common ground,
and we hit it off well. A couple years after we'd first
made contact, I casually asked about snapping turtle hunting, and he responded by extending to me a Don Corleone-esque
offer I just couldn't refuse: "how'd you like to join me for something maybe more exciting than a turtle hunt? I have 4 tags for September for Lake Okeechobee—for alligator. Want to go?" He didn't need to ask me twice. I bought my trapping agent's license (D supplied me with his information,
which is required) and bought a plane ticket. All gear was taken
care of by the Florida gang. All I had to do was daydream and count
the days until my departure.
D picked me up at PBI, and after a brief stop at his home to drop
luggage and meet his lovely wife, we headed off to pick up M, D's
friend and hunting partner. The three of us then hopped in the truck
and headed south to meet M's brother W at the boat ramp. I managed
to survive both the south Florida heat and the battering my brain
took from the caterwalling/crooning of Waylon Jensen (or some such)
that was played at an I-believe-blood-is-beginning-to-run-down-my-cheek decibel level en route by the lads. This alligator hunting business was turning out to be a real challenge already.
After a brief wait at the ramp, brother W pulled up hauling his Everglades
210, our alligator hunting shuttle for the evening, and a very nice rig all around. I guess I'd envisioned a johnboat or similar craft, and was pleasantly
surprised by the sleek and comfy 21 footer. There was more than
plenty of room to spare, and after we got the boat ready, we got a
quick lesson on alligator hunting and the gear we'd be using from M
and W. Hunting alligators is legal from 30 minutes before sunset to
sunrise, and we'd be using powerful spotlights to initially locate
them. Their eyes shine pink or red in the light and are easy to see
to a couple hundred yards, but that's the easy part. Getting close
to them is another thing entirely, especially true for the larger
ones. They didn't get large by being stupid. Speaking of large, M
handed me a few pictures on the ride to look at, and I almost
swallowed my tongue when I saw what he had to share. He and his
brother had filled tags for a different zone that they had used a few days
prior, and they got one that was almost 13 feet long, and weighed
somewhere upwards of *700* lbs. Its armored back was 3 and a half
feet across, had front feet that dwarfed a man's--sporting claws 3
inches long--and a head as long as my arm. It was truly a scary,
scary looking beast, one that an unarmed human would have zero
chance of surviving an encounter with in the alligator's element. It
gave me a chill seeing just how big they do get. Hopefully we'd get
a chance at one! Oh, and BTW, they fought that one for 3.5 hours,
and had to tie it off to the boat and drag back. Too heavy for two
guys to lift, it was. As registered commercial trappers, they can and do sell the hides for a tidy profit, paid by the inch.
As far as gear involved, it was threefold: we'd be using a crossbow
with an approximate 175 lb. pull, loaded with a bolt. On the tip of
the bolt was a gig, and a clip. The clip is attached to a 25 yard
length of kevlar line, which itself is attached to a float.
Remember the movie Jaws, where the character Quint shoots the white
shark with the lousy attitude, and the yellow barrel flies off the
bow now attached to the shark? Same idea. That's step one.
http://i108.photobucket.com/albums/n29/birddown/hunt/Crossbowandfloat.jpg
Now, the gig is generally insufficient to kill, or even seriously injure
the `gator. It's merely a means by which to keep the animal close
enough to know where he is and to manipulate a bit, in order to move
on to step two: hitting him with the harpoon. As one might suspect, it generally does not make the beast on the other end very happy; an unfortunate side-effect of skewering, I suppose. Now, the alligator
cannot be horsed toward the boat with the light crossbow gig, as the
gig will pull out under any real pressure. It can, however, be used
hopefully to gently pull the unhappy recipient close enough to the
boat to stick with the harpoon. The harpoon itself has a heavy
flying point, and once jammed through the `gator's hide (not
an easy task, as the hide is tough, and on big ones, thick), is attached to
a sufficiently stout line, rated for some 600 lbs., to be able to use to put some pressure on the beast.
If the harpoon is correctly applied, it usually spells the inevitable end for the
alligator. It does not kill the animal, but rather allows the hunters the
leverage to be able to tire him out and eventually bring him close
enough to the boat for the application of the coup de grace, which
in our case was a full-house 158 grain .357 magnum round to the brain, lovingly applied with a bang stick. I got the impression at the dock that
I was in for a very exciting evening. I was right.
Sunset was at 7:50 that day, and so we would be legal to hunt at
7:20. We waited until 7:15 to pull out, as we wanted no hassle with
the Fish and Game folks. Before we left, D and I practiced using
the crossbow, shooting at a plastic bottle we tossed out for
practice. I didn't find the crossbow super accurate, and found that
it shot plenty high even at 10 yards, but figured it was certainly
still well within our needs.
We headed out as the sun just began to dip below the horizon,
passing first through a lock, then along a rim canal, which runs
beneath a grassy levy along the circumference of the Lake. It got
dark quickly, and as it did, the rains came. With the rain came
copious lightning that often arced and flashed through the sky
horizontally. It was starting to feel a bit eerie, I don't mind
saying. A few words about the lake: it's not like the lakes that I,
as a New Englander, am used to. It's not even close, actually. It
has not tree-lined banks and clear, cold water, and opposite shores
you can usually see. It has not a glass-like appearance and small
waves lapping at the sandy or rocky shores. First, Lake Okeechobee
is simply massive, encompassing some 250 square miles. Ever look at
a map of Florida and see that blue blob near the bottom of the
state, between the Atlantic and the Gulf? That's the one. It is
heavily vegetated, with thick, deep and dense brush, as well as
countless trees and islands in many places. To say its waters are
stained is being generous. It has an amorphous, primordial feeling to it.
It was like a watery jungle, and peering into the shadowy interior of it from the rim canal, I recalled the words of Conrad's Heart of Darkness:
"The offing was barred by a black bank of clouds, and the tranquil
water-way leading to the uttermost ends of the earth flowed somber
under an overcast sky--seemed to lead into the heart of an immense darkness." Oh, dear. The mind, she wanders a bit. I then recall thinking, stream of consciousness fashion, that had I been sporting a set of black PJs and was toting my Chicom 7.62 x 39 mm SKS, I'd maybe have looked the part of a hardened Viet Cong on a run to resupply Uncle Ho's gang. But then they're all rail thin in pictures. OK, nevermind...
W is a capable mariner, and it was decided that we'd push a few
miles down the rim canal before we tried to locate any of the
beasts, and he pushed the throttle to the stops on the Yamaha 150 and
got us a few miles away in a hurry. We didn't want to be too near
the ramp, as the `gators tend to be nervous due to the boat traffic,
and we wanted to be alone and unencumbered by other `gator hunters.
We needn't have worried, as after we left the lock area we saw not
another soul. Before long, we had our first `gator in the beam of
the spotlight. Unlike my impression from some casual readings I'd
done where the alligators simply wait, transfixed like a deer in the
headlights of an oncoming truck, and allow the hunters to take them
at will, I learned alligators can be very wary, and often do not let
the boat approach. That said, some will. The approach must be done
as silently as possible, with a trolling motor rather than the gas-
powered main power plant to get close, then with a drift if at all
possible. All talking must be done is a hushed whisper, and moving
around is kept to a bare minimum, as a clumsy step or dropped item
on the hull will blow the stalk.
The `gators can hear, and likely feel any disturbance that is made on
a boat as it travels through the water. Sometimes it may become
necessary to go upwind and drift down on a likely candidate, as the water slapping against the hull is enough to drive the `gators down and away. As they are capable of staying down on bottom for 15 minutes with ease, if you wish to be successful your cause is best served by moving slowly, and being
very quiet. As with most hunting, stealth is your best friend.
As it happens, the first `gator we got close to was too small. We
had set the bar at 7 feet or better, and if we didn't start having
luck, then we'd bring the bar down. We relied on W and M to do all
field judging and spotting. D and I soon got the hang of what our
tactic was, but it was really nice having those guys who really knew
what they were doing to take the lead. A side note: when we were
moving along searching up ahead with the lights, the mosquitoes were
really bad; I mean *really* bad. When we slowed or stopped, good
grief, the mosquitoes were enough to drive a man insane, seriously.
We had repellent and D had warned me about the biting bugs, so I
brought along a long-sleeved rain jacket, and even in the wet heat
(which I have a great deal of trouble tolerating) I had to suffer
along, happy to have some cover, as any bit of exposed flesh
was fair game for the bugs. Anyone foolhardy or ignorant enough to
try to spend a night on Okeechobee unprepared for the mosquitoes had
better bring a few pints of blood to perform an impromptu on-board
transfusion. I've never been anywhere that was worse in terms of
biting insects. In the grand scheme of things, it was but a small
price to pay, but worth mentioning.
After trying to get close to a couple unsuccessfully, we managed to
find one customer willing to cooperate. D was on the bow with the
crossbow, and we inched closer and closer to the first chance we had
to put one of the beasts on board, all of us silent. His aiming
point was the soft part of the neck, which is mostly beneath the
waterline, making it almost always a pretty tricky shot. We got to
within about 12 feet of the beast when D let fly with the `bow,
which makes a pleasant noise that sounds something like `ka-TOONK!'
when its energy is unleashed. At the hit, the tea-colored water
erupted in furious splashing, and the chase was on for the
first `gator of the trip, who was stuck well and pulling the float
across the surface at a high rate as he stormed away from the boat
and into the deep channel. We gave chase, and soon enough M had the
boat hook out in order to grab the float. The excitement level was
high for all, but D and I decided that the best way for us to learn
was to sit back, stay out of the way and watch how this game is
played by those with a lot of experience, rather than potentially
get in the way and screw things up, or even worse, get someone hurt.
In the back of my mind I remembered the three human fatalities
attributed to alligators this past year in Florida, as well as
pictures included in the FL Fish and Game booklet on the hunt, which
included graphic pictures of a hunter's hand that had been
unceremoniously separated at the wrist from his arm by an angry
alligator. Some talented surgeons managed to reattach it to it
rightful owner, but that kind of excitement we could certainly do
without.
Pretty soon, M had the `gator under the boat, and W got ready with
the harpoon. The `poon is a pretty simple affair, with a wooden
shaft, a steel seat and a steel head. The head detaches after impact
and the heavy line is paid out to the now even unhappier `gator as
he runs again. With that second heavy line in him, however, it's
usually not too long a battle, as with the heavy line, pressure can
be applied to stop and turn him. And so it went. After he tired, it
was W's job to coordinate with brother M and line up the kill shot
with the bang stick at the side of the boat. The `gator generally
now realizes he's in trouble, and begins to frantically roll and
thrash. Unfortunately for him, what he normally ends up doing is
hopelessly wrapping and entangling himself in the lines. His
misfortune is our luck, however, as he tires fairly quickly and I
imagine is quite confused by the whole affair, with the lights and
sounds and boat and lines…Sounds almost like tales of humans being
abducted by aliens. If it is, well, better them than me.
The aim point with the bang stick is dead center and just slightly
*behind* the eyes, essentially in the back of the skull, the idea
being to blow the `gators brain away and end the struggle. Care must
be taken that the discharging bang stick not contact the heavy line,
lest it cut it, and in this case the shot was administered quickly
and efficiently. The gator is then and *only* then touched by hand,
and carefully. The first grab is the most important, as it's on the
business end of the beast. Ma nature saw fit to give the alligator
much grabbing and crushing power, but the muscles it has for this
are built to close with incredible force, not open, and it is a
fairly easy task to keep them closed simply by pinching them
together with both hands. At that time duct tape or electrical tape
is wrapped around the jaws, and the beast is hauled aboard. The
lines and gigs are cut out, the CITES tag is applied, and for big
ones, special care is taken to ensure that the beast is done in by
taking a sharp blade and driving it between the head and neck,
severing the spinal column. The first one went 6' 9", and after re-
rigging, we headed off to find a bigger one.
Basically, the same scenario replayed itself several times
throughout the evening, and although I was eventually successful,
had some trouble pinning one with the crossbow. It's a poor man that
blames a miss on his gear, but then again it wasn't mine... In all
seriousness, I missed clean several times, but did manage to finally
connect on a 7' 4" specimen.
After the first one, we all participated in the hunt, and it was a wonderful team effort experience. W ran the boat and scanned behind for `gators, as
well as manning the bang stick and tape. M did all the rigging,
scanned for `gators, fought the beasts on the lines and did all the
field judging. I ended up being on the harpoon for three of the four
we got and helped M haul them all aboard. D was the man on the
bow with the crossbow, ran the boat when W was preoccupied and
took care of any number of things that needed to be addressed.
Truly, it was a collective endeavor, and an absolute blast. I could
not believe my fortune in being invited to come along on this
alligator adventure with a truly wonderful crew, and am deeply
grateful to the brothers for sharing their wealth of experience and
resources with me, and particularly to D, who made this possible for
me. It's something I'll never forget, and will be doing again, I
hope.
The last `gator we got was the big one for the night, and measured I
think close 9 and a half feet. His weight I'm guessing would be
close to 300 lbs. D made a good shot on him, and he actually dragged
the float under with him twice. I managed to drive the harpoon deep
into him as he surfaced, and he then pulled the 21 foot boat with
four men in it across the channel onto the far side. A truly
exhilarating time we had fighting him, and he required two slugs to
the head as well as the chisel and hammer (to sever the spinal cord)
after we managed to get him on board. These things look every part
the living dinosaurs, do not give up the ghost quietly and by God, hunting them is fun with a capital `F'. We ended up with a limit of four, with one just shy of 7', two at 7' and change and one at almost 9 and a half feet. The
hunt exceeded my grandest expectations in every way.
http://i108.photobucket.com/albums/n29/birddown/hunt/Thecrewbackatthedock.jpg
The 12 hours plus we spent skinning them and butchering them the
next day wasn't rated very high in the fun category, but it's a
package deal, of course, and with about 30 pounds of meat ready for
the deep fryer, the toothy skull destined to live in my cabinet, the
fine hide I'll have tanned and made into my wife's new handbag and
maybe a few wallets make it worth it ten times over. That said, the
real treasure for me was the experience, the memory and a new
friendship. D welcomed me into his home like an old friend, and
spending time with he and his wife was a treat. His friends made me
feel totally comfortable and we laughed long and hard all night. We
eventually arrived back at his pad as the sun was rising, and caught
a few hours sleep with the `gators on ice, which filled the Toyota's
bed. The entire next day we worked the `gators, and then we caught
dinner out. A few hours later I was catching a jet back north to
wrap up the trip.
Those southern boys know how to have fun, that's for sure. D, big
thanks to you and the lads, and I'm waiting to hear from you guys to
let me know you're all coming up here to allow me to return the
favor this Fall or Winter. No need to bring the bug spray, but we
may need to talk about slightly heavier clothes…
Cheers,
L