Too Close to Aligators(Gordon England) Too Close to Alligators

“Where are you going today?” my boss, Bill, asked.
“I’m checking out one of our Mosquito Control Impoundments (MCI) near NASA.”
“Is there a problem?”
“Its water level has not dropped even though we pulled boards from the control structures last week.”
“A log might have jammed a pipe,” Bill said. “Go ahead and check it out. It’s gator mating season, so bulls are aggressive. Be safe and take a satellite phone. There’s no cell phone coverage out there.”
“Don’t worry, boss. I have my running shoes on,” I said sarcastically.
“If we don’t hear from you by 2:00, I’ll send out a search party.”

Forty-five minutes later, I parked at a gate at an MCI. I donned steeled-toed boots, sunscreen, and a wide-brimmed hat. Then I packed a satellite phone, small ax, water, and compass into a backpack. I left my car keys under a floor mat just in case I needed a fast escape. Hope for the best and plan for the worst.
I unlocked a rusty metal gate and pushed it open. Historically, Brevard County had experienced severe problems with mosquitos swarming in multitudes of shallow marshes. The County responded by converting soggy marshes into two-foot-deep ponds to drown mosquito eggs. The ponds were created by constructing elevated roads on top of filled earthen berms around the marshes, just wide enough for one vehicle. The pond I would investigate today had a mile-long berm between exit gates.
As I marched through the gate, I picked up a four-foot-long by three inches wide dry stick. Its leaves had long dried and scattered in the wind. I pounded the limb hard on the ground. Shock to my shoulder proved my new walking pole to be solid. Eighteen-inch-high weeds covered the road, showing our mowing program to be behind schedule.

I began my morning exploration by noting an impenetrable mangrove thicket on one side of the berm and the Banana River Lagoon (bay) on the other side. After turning the first corner of the road, all traces of civilization disappeared. An odor of thick, rotten swamp permeated moisture-laden air. I slowly walked along the road, pushing my pole ahead of me to scare snakes, birds, or other creatures away before they erupted violently at my feet.
An old map in my office showed two 24-inch pipes crossing this berm somewhere. On the marsh end of the pipes, sliding boards on control structures regulated water entering or leaving the impoundment. The first pipe should be about one hundred yards ahead of me, though heavy mangroves obscured pipes and control structures. I turned a corner, then froze with my foot in mid-air to avoid stepping on a soggy gator-crossing. I instantly went into full alert, danger mode. Adrenaline pounded through my body.

Gator-crossings are where alligators crawl back and forth from the water, over the berm on a muddy path connecting the bay with the MCI. The three-foot-wide mud path in front of me still had rivulets of water collecting in tracks larger than my hands. I slowly lowered my floating foot to solid land; the better to begin running in any direction. I listened intently. A slight rustle whispered somewhere in the thick brush of the pond to my right. No need to hang around here. I jumped across the mud path and ran ten steps before feeling safe again.

Twenty yards further along the berm, I found the first pipe. I didn’t really find it; it found me when I stumbled over boards hidden in thick grass. These were boards placed into slider bars to raise or lower water levels in the MCI. When I cut brush away from the slider bars, I found my first problem. A small tree had fallen across the bars, partially blocking water from flowing through the control structure. I took the ax from my backpack and chopped away at the tree until water flowed smoothly through the pipe.

Further down the road, I found another fresh gator-crossing. I stopped to listen. A low-pitched, five-second bellow sounding like a cross between a growl and a burp erupted deep within an alligator’s lungs somewhere in the MCI. This ancient sound had to be from a male alligator at least ten feet long.
Freeze. Pull my pole back like a bat, ready to take a futile swing at a savage killer.
Another bellow in the same place.
I took off running away from the noise, an ax in one hand and a pole in the other. Surely my flight in fear would be faster than an enormous creature with short legs. After fifty yards of crashing through tall grass in the summer heat, I stopped, panting hard. I listened to silence for a few minutes, then packed my ax, picked up the walking pole, and continued my journey. I passed two more gator crossings – old, dry, and safe for me.
I soon found a second control structure. Water had backed up, not flowing at all. Nothing blocked the slider bars. There must be an obstruction inside the pipe. I first cut away brush to give clear access to the half-submerged conduit. That is when I heard another bellow, not very close. I waded into the MCI to the pipe’s end and poked my walking stick inside of it as far as I could reach. I felt no obstruction. Then I used my ax to cut down a long tree limb and strip away branches. When I probed the pipe with my long stick, it stopped about five feet in. I pushed hard, hitting something soft. Hmm. What could be stuck in there?
I worked my limb back and forth while listening to another nearby ‘bellow.’ My limb finally broke through, causing black MCI water to slowly enter the pipe. What could be blocking this pipe? More prodding pushed the obstruction through the pipe. I walked to the bayside end of the pipe and sat down to watch black water leaving the pipe. More ‘bellows’ behind me had my attention. I could not tell how many there were, which was a bad sign. Though they seemed to be stationary, I kept my ax and walking pole by my side. To my surprise, a lump of white, furry pulp floated out the pipe. I used my branch to pull rotten meat from the water. I pieced together two legs with hooves and brown fur. They had to be deer remains. Nothing but an alligator could have killed a deer in this swamp. A gator had eaten most of the deer, then stashed the remains underwater in the pipe, safe from other critters’ prying eyes. A steady stream of mucky-smelling impoundment water now flowed from the pipe.

When I went back to the berm to pack my gear, a gator sounded closer to me than a few minutes ago, probably unhappy its dinner had escaped. I grabbed my gear and trekked back toward my vehicle. At each gator crossing, I heard tell-tale bellows and splashes in the swamp that seemed to track me.
I jumped over the crossings, and fast marched back to my truck with no more incidents. My heart beat fast for the next thirty minutes. I did not want to be around animals that could hunt and eat me. Inspecting an MCI taught me essential lessons.
• Don’t explore swamps and MCI’s by myself. A partner comes in handy if trouble develops.
• An ax is helpful in numerous ways for clearing brush and defending against aggressive animals.
• Take gator crossings seriously.
• Pay attention to bellowing gators.
• If cell phone coverage is questionable, take a satellite phone.
• Delegate MCI inspections to an underling.

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