ALLIGATORS, OH NO!
By Kathy McCullough
Emma crashed through the brush by the mucky pond, being anything but moccasin quiet. Snakes couldn’t hear her, but maybe they would feel the vibrations and get out of her way. Florida had lots of snakes. Emma was only afraid of the poisonous ones. The creek was on her left, behind a row of Indian burial mounds. Dad said the mounds were just leftover dirt from digging out the creek, but Emma knew they were real.
Skirting around the boys playing in the water, Emma shook her head. How dumb could you get? They were holding tiny alligators that looked newly hatched. The baby alligators were making little squeaky noises, but the boys were clueless. Didn’t they know the baby’s mother was nearby and would hear their cries for help?
Huge garden spiders were everywhere in this part of the woods, hanging in webs, silently waiting for prey. Her neighbor, Mr. Mays, had a “pet” spider by his driveway. It was fun to watch him feed it. The spider got all excited and shook the web when it saw Mr. Mays coming. Emma wasn’t afraid of spiders either, but she kept her arms outstretched, mummy-like, so she didn’t get sticky web-stuff on her face. She had to hurry so that she wasn’t late home again. Mom would ground her for sure this time.
- Spanish moss
Pretending she was an early explorer, searching for the legendary Fountain of Youth, Emma went deeper and deeper into the forest. She skirted the bottomless dark circles of water that peppered the woods. Florida was full of them. Sinkholes. They could swallow you whole.
Emma reached her destination, her favorite spot in the whole world. The ancient oak tree had huge branches that stretched out over a small pond. Emma tightened the straps on her backpack and started to climb. Carefully, higher and higher, one toehold after the next, she scaled the monster. It was an easy tree, or maybe she was just a good climber.
Ensconced on a wide limb, she took off her backpack and stuffed it into a trunk-nook. Leaning against the rough bark, scratching her back like a dog, she smiled. Spanish moss draped around her like a cocoon. No one could find her here. Big puffy white clouds were mirrored in the water below. A heron flew by with something in its mouth. Emma opened her book and a granola bar.
Crunching and reading, Emma looked up, startled by a throaty, grunting sound. Three alligators were facing each other, having a gator-meeting. Emma had seen plenty of alligators in the wild, but never under her tree. How cool! They weren’t big alligators – she guessed they were five feet long. But they were so close, and there was no way down without attracting their attention. Grounded or dead? Maybe dead was better. She just couldn’t be late again. But she could out-wait them. They would probably swim off soon. Fifteen minutes passed. Thirty. The sun was sinking lower. So much for that plan.
Emma doubted she could outrun the alligators. Once, walking home from school, she saw an alligator chasing the neighbor’s dog. It was up on its stubby legs, moving fast. Two times the little dog ran around the house with the gator was right behind. The neighbors never saw their dog again. Could she outrun the alligators? No. Probably not. She wasn’t a very fast runner. Would an alligator even chase her? Crocodiles were the aggressive ones, that could bring down and eat giraffes.
Still, alligators might not be as aggressive, but their jaws were powerful and their teeth were sharp. Maybe she could distract the alligators under her tree to make them swim away. Being late home was not an option. Emma whistled. The alligators didn’t move, not even their heads. She whistled louder and longer. Nothing, Maybe they thought she was a bird.
- Emma up in her private world.
“Go away!! Get out of here!” She yelled. They never even looked up. Could alligators look up? She couldn’t remember. How could she distract them? She reached for her backpack and looked inside. Granola wrappers. Candy wrappers. An apple. Her knife. A water bottle. Maybe the apple would work. Taking aim, she threw it as hard as she could at the biggest gator’s head. She missed. It bounced off the ground, rolled and sat there, mocking her. What else could she do?
A large, piliated woodpecker was tapping on a nearby tree. Big chunks of bark fell to the ground, and one of the alligators looked in that direction. Thanks, Woody, Emma said as she pulled out her pocketknife and started chipping away at the tree branch she was sitting on. Bark rained down on the gators. But they didn’t move.
What else could she try? It was getting dark. Soon she wouldn’t be able to see. Wait, what if the alligators couldn’t see? Standing up carefully, she reached out and grabbed hunks of the Spanish moss from the limbs above her. She dumped it on the gators, trying to cover their eyes. Maybe they would go into the water to get rid of it. She almost lost her balance, reaching for more moss, and grabbed the big trunk to steady herself. Nothing was working.
Would they go after fish in the water? She threw the bark into the water, creating splashes like small fish. Were the gators hungry? Would they take the bait? Maybe they needed something bigger to eat. She threw her water bottle. They looked out at the water, but didn’t budge.
If only she could hurt them or make them uneasy. Standing up more carefully this time, Emma broke off a branch above her head and began to fashion a slingshot of sorts. She found an old, blue rubberband in her backpack and shot it at one of the gator’s eyes. It plinked off just like the apple, but he did blink. If it was a he. The hair bands around her braids could work. They were stronger. When it was ready, she took off a hair band and took careful aim. It hit near the gators creating a splash. They moved, uncertain what had caused the splash. Yes! Quickly she took her other braid apart to let another one fly. She took aim again, pulling back harder this time. The slingshot busted and the hair band fell to the ground. Now what?
She looked into her backpack for more to toss. All she had left was her pocketknife and her book. What if they didn’t leave? What if she had to spend the night up here? The branch was wide, so she wouldn’t fall off, but would she get eaten? Yes, at least by mosquitoes. What else came out at night? Opossums and raccoons for sure, but they would be more afraid of her. Armadillos couldn’t climb trees and weren’t scary. Bats. Panthers.
Dusk had fallen. Huge shadows were stretching over the ground. Emma wondered if she could even find her way home in the dark. Scratch that. She knew she could find her way home; she just didn’t want to fall into the sinkholes or the creek. Great, just great.
Closing her eyes tightly she tried to will the gators away. No luck. Pocketknife or book? Which one should she throw? She would be in big trouble if she had to buy another library book. The last one had fallen in the water. Grandpa gave her the pocketknife for Christmas. In desperation, she threw the knife. Hard. Sorry Grandpa. It made a big splash. This time the alligators could have cared less.
Think, Emma, think. There was another way down, farther away from the alligators. One of the branches sloped down to the ground away from the pond but it was weak and shaky. Emma had tried to go that way last week. She almost fell when she heard a rattlesnake right underneath her as she started to jump down. What if it was still there? What if she fell? What choice did she have except to be grounded for the rest of her life?
Florida has lots of Diamond Back Rattlesnakes
Emma put on her backpack and made her way to the far side of the tree. She sat down on the wobbly branch, and started her downward shinny. On her butt, she propelled herself forward, lifting with her hands. It took forever. Taking one last look at the trio of gators, she threw her book down where she was going to jump. No movement or rattling sound. Emma took a deep breath. Now or never. She jumped the last few feet, stumbling as she hit the ground, listening. Picking herself up, she ran for home. Spider webs stuck in her hair and she tripped on the uneven ground. Her heart was racing, her lungs were hurting and she had a stitch in her side. She looked behind, but only once, just in case. Nope, no gators.
Crossing the road by the creek, she could see the lights of her house. Panting, she thrashed through the undergrowth like a wild elephant. She could see flashing lights in their driveway. Oh no, Mom had called the police. The officers were talking to her parents, taking notes. They looked up as she ran into the yard. Relieved, Emma smiled. She was home. Grounded for sure, but home.
