The View from Florida: Alligator in the Driveway
By Tony Stanol, South Florida Correspondent
South Florida is hundreds of miles south of southern states Alabama, Georgia and Mississippi. You’d think we’d be considered the deep, deep South, catching catfish by hand and calling each other Bubba, Fern and Billy Bob. But Sarasota is populated with fewer rednecks and more Midwesterners than our neighbors in the states to the north. We’re more country club and less Duck Dynasty. In fact, we rarely hear a Southern accent and I don’t even know where to get a serving of grits here.
We’re on the Florida Gulf Coast which began being populated in the early 1900’s by people migrating south from Illinois, Michigan and Ohio. It’s also mellower here than the other side of the state. The East Coast of Florida is filled with cranky old New Yorkers and Easterners. Locals tell me the state developed this way because Midwesterners drove south on I75 and the Easterners used I95. I don’t know why air travel didn’t cause people to venture east or west of their destined paths but some traditions run deep. My family and I lived in Connecticut and California before coming here so we defy all the norms.
We live in a community with several interconnected manmade lakes. In Florida, fresh standing water means alligators. There are signs here that warn you to stay out of the water, as inviting as it is on a warm day.
My wife, Karen thought it would be fun to paddle board on the smooth lakes until she read the signs. It’s approximately 40 yards across the narrow part of the lake behind our house. My vow before we move somewhere else is to swim that distance as fast as I could and hope to not get hit by a gator. I believe it’s possible.
I like seeing these prehistoric creatures. Not a week goes by when I don’t see at least one in our community lakes. They’re usually in the water swimming slowly by swiping their long tails side to side. In early spring they often climb out of the water to catch a few rays on the grassy banks and we get a better look at them.
They range in size from young’uns to adults. Some wiseacre named the biggest one “Samsonite”. He’s a well-fed 11 footer. The lakes are stocked with bass and we occasionally see a gator munching on a tasty treat. I don’t think any small pets have been taken by gators here. But I read a story that two German Shepherds went missing after venturing into the grassy marsh in Venice, a town just south of here.
Sometimes I am surprised how close I suddenly get to a gator while I’m riding my bike along the waterway. They’re surprised, too, and generally scramble back into the water at a faster speed than you would think possible. I once snuck up on one who was under a bridge on the embankment to get a close-up shot. When I came too close the monster flexed its mighty tail and flipped into the water with a huge splash.
I drove my older daughter’s Mini Cooper for a few years while she was out of the country teaching in Costa Rica. One morning I got into the car in the driveway and put it into reverse. It moved a few inches but stopped and I thought the brake was engaged. It wasn’t so I gunned it and felt like I was riding over a curb.
Suddenly, a small three foot alligator shot straight out from under the car into the bushes! I couldn’t believe I didn’t squash it by accident but it looked more annoyed than injured. It headed to the side of the house but I decided not to go hunting for it because the brush is pretty dense there. It must’ve been three inches from my ankle under the car when I first got in. I told my wife not to go outside with the dog (an aging Pug) until the coast is clear.
Someday I’ll probably see that gator again undoubtedly with a feint foreign tire track on his back. I think I’ll christen him “Lucky.” I just hope I don’t bump into Lucky on my farewell lake swim.
