Sandi Stories:
ALLIGATOR TALE
A number of years back while Mom & Dad were still living in the log house in Homosassa, Florida they had an adventure with a rather large alligator. They lived at the end of a dirt road where their property abutted the marshlands that led to the Gulf of Mexico. They had a small stream connecting from the river that Dad had constructed over the years, which led to the deep freshwater spring in front of the house.
There was now a large alligator as resident in the spring. He had decided that the bank was an ideal place to bask in the sun. He had settled in and this appeared to be his new home. The fish in the pond provided food and the grassy area next to the spring had just enough clearing to allow the sun to shine right there. There was even more sport for dinner, since Muffin, a toy poodle, lived with Mom and Dad and had a great capacity for barking at that gator.
When I called to check in with them, and got the ‘story’ of the alligator that was now a resident in their yard, I was really concerned. Dad had emphysema and could not move quickly, Mom had had several TIA episodes (small strokes) and sometimes became disoriented when out in the sun. Since gardening and keeping her yard looking great was one of her great joys, this all combined to make a very unstable situation even without a six foot plus alligator.
It became a bigger problem began when that gator decided “his territory” included the sunning bank and my parents complete front yard.. Normally, even my Dad would not feel compelled to argue with an alligator, big or small.
But it appeared that the gator was not leaving the spring (less than a couple of hundred yards from their front door.) and occasionally closer. He even showed interest in the surroundings, mostly those on two or four feet. Dad decided something had to be done. When I called the next day, Dad told me he would shoot the alligator. I advised against it.
In his younger days Dad had done quite bit of hunting and trapping, which made him comfortable with the use of guns. He had been a Deputy Sheriff for several years, with a record for being a sharp-shooter. His over-ambitious ego became larger through the years as his stories which were complimentary to himself, had aged and gained in stature and prowess. He also knew that in Florida, Alligators were protected species.
He got his gun!
Killing a gator in Florida is a No-No, Against The Law, however shooting one that over six feet long and a menace to lives nearby might be borderline, but it still was best left to the Fish and Game group. When Dad said that he had his gun and was going to just kill the Alligator, I immediately became nervous. “
My next day phone call was to find out how it went, since Dad would have ignored my request that he contact the Fish and Game employees to come out right away and take the gator away. I asked: “what if you missed him?” You really shouldn’t be irritating a big alligator that close to home.” My instinct told me he would still shoot it.
I guess saying that just tripped his ego-ability. Taking careful aim, Dad shot it in the head. The result was no immediate death and a definite change in the gators attitude. It was not a happy change. A second shot still didn’t do anything except make the gator more irate.
When Mom answered, I asked about the alligator. She informed me that Dad had not killed it yet, but he still was sure that he could. He had wounded it and it would make shooting it the next day easier.
When I reluctantly called the next night, Mon said had shot it – emptied the gun into it, but it was still alive. It was, however, wounded significantly. “John will take it out into the marsh with the tractor, tomorrow.
I again mildly suggested that it still would be a good idea to call the Fish and Game Wardens, and say that the gator had gone after Muffin and Dad had to shoot him.
Dad had decided it would be best to move him into the marsh grasses to live or die. He was totally reluctant to call the F & G Wardens now. He managed to get a rope around the alligator’s tail, and hooked him to the garden tractor. He then headed for the deep marsh with the gator in tow.
This area adjacent to Mom and Dad’s property is nearly 600+ square acres of marshland, tributaries and occasional bushes.
When I called Mom again, she said that Dad had worked his way deep in the marsh where he was sure it was far enough. He said he was confident, regardless of the fate of the gator, it would not come back. Stopping the tractor and getting the rope off the gator was a bit difficult. I asked what did that mean?
Mom said that the gator was pretty mad and Dad had to be careful when trying to get his rope back. He managed, she said and he was then ready to head back. But there was a new problem!! Or rather, problem-s. A dead battery!! That and the fact that Dad had lost his bearings and really did not know which way was home.
Mom continued that it was getting later and later and Dad had not returned, so she walked to the edge of the woods started calling Dad. He would probably be out of breath, she thought, and she needed to keep yelling so he could get the direction by the sound of her voice. He did hear her finally made his way back home. All that was left to do was to take another tractor and a charged battery to bring the first one in. Mom would ride with him to drive one of them back.
Did I mention that they are the same age – 80 years old?
I kept thinking how easy it would have been to call the F & G Warden…
Mom kept on with the reporting….. Dad was pretty sure he could find the tractor he took the alligator out with, but still was concerned about them both getting back to the house. Mom came up with the idea to put a radio on really loud at the house, they could use that to determine how to get back.
I asked if Mom was tired after all of this. She laughed and said that it was a good thing that gator wasn’t still at the first tractor when they got back to it.
This was just one of the reasons I thought they might be better off living with me – which I wanted and they finally agreed to.
S.Fodi 2005
ALLIGATOR TALE
A number of years back while Mom & Dad were still living in the log house in Homosassa, Florida they had an adventure with a rather large alligator. They lived at the end of a dirt road where their property abutted the marshlands that led to the Gulf of Mexico. They had a small stream connecting from the river that Dad had constructed over the years, which led to the deep freshwater spring in front of the house.
There was now a large alligator as resident in the spring. He had decided that the bank was an ideal place to bask in the sun. He had settled in and this appeared to be his new home. The fish in the pond provided food and the grassy area next to the spring had just enough clearing to allow the sun to shine right there. There was even more sport for dinner, since Muffin, a toy poodle, lived with Mom and Dad and had a great capacity for barking at that gator.
When I called to check in with them, and got the ‘story’ of the alligator that was now a resident in their yard, I was really concerned. Dad had emphysema and could not move quickly, Mom had had several TIA episodes (small strokes) and sometimes became disoriented when out in the sun. Since gardening and keeping her yard looking great was one of her great joys, this all combined to make a very unstable situation even without a six foot plus alligator.
It became a bigger problem began when that gator decided “his territory” included the sunning bank and my parents complete front yard.. Normally, even my Dad would not feel compelled to argue with an alligator, big or small.
But it appeared that the gator was not leaving the spring (less than a couple of hundred yards from their front door.) and occasionally closer. He even showed interest in the surroundings, mostly those on two or four feet. Dad decided something had to be done. When I called the next day, Dad told me he would shoot the alligator. I advised against it.
In his younger days Dad had done quite bit of hunting and trapping, which made him comfortable with the use of guns. He had been a Deputy Sheriff for several years, with a record for being a sharp-shooter. His over-ambitious ego became larger through the years as his stories which were complimentary to himself, had aged and gained in stature and prowess. He also knew that in Florida, Alligators were protected species.
He got his gun!
Killing a gator in Florida is a No-No, Against The Law, however shooting one that over six feet long and a menace to lives nearby might be borderline, but it still was best left to the Fish and Game group. When Dad said that he had his gun and was going to just kill the Alligator, I immediately became nervous. “
My next day phone call was to find out how it went, since Dad would have ignored my request that he contact the Fish and Game employees to come out right away and take the gator away. I asked: “what if you missed him?” You really shouldn’t be irritating a big alligator that close to home.” My instinct told me he would still shoot it.
I guess saying that just tripped his ego-ability. Taking careful aim, Dad shot it in the head. The result was no immediate death and a definite change in the gators attitude. It was not a happy change. A second shot still didn’t do anything except make the gator more irate.
When Mom answered, I asked about the alligator. She informed me that Dad had not killed it yet, but he still was sure that he could. He had wounded it and it would make shooting it the next day easier.
When I reluctantly called the next night, Mon said had shot it – emptied the gun into it, but it was still alive. It was, however, wounded significantly. “John will take it out into the marsh with the tractor, tomorrow.
I again mildly suggested that it still would be a good idea to call the Fish and Game Wardens, and say that the gator had gone after Muffin and Dad had to shoot him.
Dad had decided it would be best to move him into the marsh grasses to live or die. He was totally reluctant to call the F & G Wardens now. He managed to get a rope around the alligator’s tail, and hooked him to the garden tractor. He then headed for the deep marsh with the gator in tow.
This area adjacent to Mom and Dad’s property is nearly 600+ square acres of marshland, tributaries and occasional bushes.
When I called Mom again, she said that Dad had worked his way deep in the marsh where he was sure it was far enough. He said he was confident, regardless of the fate of the gator, it would not come back. Stopping the tractor and getting the rope off the gator was a bit difficult. I asked what did that mean?
Mom said that the gator was pretty mad and Dad had to be careful when trying to get his rope back. He managed, she said and he was then ready to head back. But there was a new problem!! Or rather, problem-s. A dead battery!! That and the fact that Dad had lost his bearings and really did not know which way was home.
Mom continued that it was getting later and later and Dad had not returned, so she walked to the edge of the woods started calling Dad. He would probably be out of breath, she thought, and she needed to keep yelling so he could get the direction by the sound of her voice. He did hear her finally made his way back home. All that was left to do was to take another tractor and a charged battery to bring the first one in. Mom would ride with him to drive one of them back.
Did I mention that they are the same age – 80 years old?
I kept thinking how easy it would have been to call the F & G Warden…
Mom kept on with the reporting….. Dad was pretty sure he could find the tractor he took the alligator out with, but still was concerned about them both getting back to the house. Mom came up with the idea to put a radio on really loud at the house, they could use that to determine how to get back.
I asked if Mom was tired after all of this. She laughed and said that it was a good thing that gator wasn’t still at the first tractor when they got back to it.
This was just one of the reasons I thought they might be better off living with me – which I wanted and they finally agreed to.
S.Fodi 2005
posted by Sandi Fodi at
2:07 PM
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