Bubba and the Alligator

Dear Tony,

When I first moved to the Carolina low country I was some what fascinated by alligators. I mean those seemingly prehistoric beasties were everywhere.  They were even on the sacred golf courses of the big shots.

I was living in a place near the Intracoastal Waterway and had a canoe in my bedroom. One day I got it out and put it in a creek.  It was in the spring. No one had told me that when them old gators had just woke up from a long winter’s nap they were very hungry.  I mean really, really hungry! This fact would figure in my near demise.

Anyway I launched my boat, an Old Town, and headed up the creek.  There’s something about that term “up the creek” that I’m not real fond of. As I paddled on my lowcountry adventure the creek began to narrow. Off to my left I saw a big alligator slide into the water. It was just like in those Tarzan movies I saw in my youth. I was busy watching the creek bank when something rubbed the bottom of the boat.  It even lifted the canoe up out of the water. At first I didn’t know what it was. But when I felt that rough rub I knew that it was a gator. And it wasn’t a little bitty one either.  I paddled a bit faster.  Actually a lot faster! The I saw him.  He was longer that the boat!  It was then that I realized that I was being sized up for a meal. What could I do? I didn’t rightly know but I paddled faster. He bumped the boat again.  The next time I saw his head, I tried to whack him across the head. But when I swung that paddle with all my might he opened his big ugly mouth.  With one mighty “crunch” he bit the whole end off my paddle.  I was gettin’ desperate. What was left of my paddle struck bottom as I paddled.  The big ole gator hit the canoe hard enough with his snout to dump me out of the boat.  I fell in to the waist-deep brackish water and drank my fill. Stumblin’ to my feet I staggered to a small island. And by small I mean little bitty.  ‘Bout the size of your average kitchen.  In the middle of this island was a scraggly old tree.  I climbed it. Like a squirrel chased by a hound, I went up that tree. After I had clum as fer as I could I stopped and looked down. Yessiree! I  had been treed by an alligator! Looking up at me with his big evil eyes and his mouth agape was that old gator, all twenty feet of him. Anybody that thinks a shark has a lot of teeth ain’t ever looked into the mouth of a twenty-foot gator.  He was close to my feet and he was snapping at me and I swear i could smell gator breath!

Remember, when I said there was something I didn’t like that term “up a creek”, now I remember the rest of that sayin’.  I was up that creek!

What was I gonna do?  One thing was for certain, I couldn’t get by that big gator at the bottom o the tree. I had to come up with a plan.  My mama had said she didn’t raise no fool.  But right then I was trying make sure mama wasn’t lyin’.  I put my thinkin’ cap on. And I thought.  In a few minutes I was thinkin’ maybe I had the wrong cap on.  The sun was slipping low in the west. By now the old gator had sort of curled his self around the tree. He appeared to be sleeping. By now I was also geting hungry.  I had missed lunch and it was getting close to supper time. I felt around in my pocket and pulled out a tuna fish sandwich. That sandwich had been in there all day, was all mashed up, and had started to smell like it was getting a little ripe. I pulled it out and got a whiff of it.  That’s when i got the big idea.  One time I had read somewhere that alligators liked food that was spoiled rather than fresh. “H--m-m-m” I said to myself.

I kind of snuck down the tree and was gingerly place that sandwich on the dozing gator’s tail. I stepped over the gator and was headed for the water when he awoke.

You won’t believe what happened next. Instead of trying to get me he took one whiff of that ole tuna sandwich on his tail and chomped right down on it. Yessir! that ole gator just et his self up!

I’ll bet I gotcha on that one! Ha, ha!

Your old buddy,

Bubba