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BACK TO THE CALOOSAHATCHEE RIVER
On the third day, we left La Belle. I entertained myself by watching the landscapes and the architecture. By one o'clock, I started looking for a place to stay. Four hours later I found an unoccupied lot - the only one I had seen throughout the day. The only means of access to shore would require adjacent passage by an alligator hole.
I didn't look forward to getting so close to a gator's abode but traveling in the dark was definitely not an option. I carefully studied the area. A blue Heron stood motionless in the shallow water, waiting for unsuspecting fish. I reckoned that if the gator had not already eaten the Heron, it either wasn't hungry or it wasn't home. Hoping to be right, I cautiously paddled to the shore and hurriedly climbed the bank with my dogs. I tied them to a tree and scouted the area to make sure there were no alligators on land. |
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Except for the trees and vegetation closest to the river's edge, the three acres of land we were on had been cleared. After setting up camp, I saw a man approaching in a pick up truck. I greeted him, introduced myself, explained what I was doing and asked permission to spend the night.
"I live next door", he said. "You can spend the night as long as you keep your dogs leashed. I have three small children. If your dogs come on my property, I will shoot them on sight."
I thanked him and assured him that my dogs would not be running loose nor pose a danger to his children.
Alice and April like people, children and other dogs (if they too are friendly). However, any other animal is food. I wasn't concerned about either one of them hurting his children. |
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That night the loudest cacophony of frog and insect sounds I have ever heard, before or since, kept us awake for most of the night. If it weren't for the fact that - in my older and wiser (?) years - I don't do drugs or drink alcohol, I would have assumed that I was high. It sounded like some off-the-wall, nature sound recording being played on a boom box. In the midst of the tune-deaf, clamoring choir, I could hear the gator's bellowing coming from the direction of the hole.
Florida sits on a limestone plateau that rises from the bottom of the sea - its flat, porous, coral-strewn summit barely exposed above the water's surface. With nothing else to sleep on, except a wool blanket, the three of us woke up stiff, achy and longing for a bed. |
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After a careful inspection of the river's edge, I loaded and boarded the canoe. Placidly, we reached the natural bends of the Caloosahatchee River. As we distanced ourselves from town, the houses scattered and the river snaked its way into a verdant landscape. |
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I heard the roaring of engines. Another forty-footer was heading our way at full throttle. I did my little routine: get up, wave, shout but the big boat was not slowing down even though they had seen us with ample time. Darn! I sat and prepared myself for the big wakes. Useless. The wakes pushed the canoe and crashed it on the rocky shore! I turned and looked at the boat. The mate was standing aft and he was laughing. What do you say to someone like that? I refuse to call them animals because to do so would be an insult to the animals. As far as I was concerned, these "whatever-you-want-to-call-them" were so low in the scale of creation and so despicable that they were not even worth the energy required to give them the finger. I just looked at the mate and shook my head. |
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| Background: Hellasmultimedia |
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INDEX |
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Beatriz Socorro |
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| Sound Effects: PartnersInRhyme |
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| Images: IconBAZAAR www.iconbazaar.com |
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