Last weekend I went to the Houston Zoo. Always a good trip, this time the alligators were snoozing over in the corner of their area, so I went over for a closer look. I unintentionally became involved in a staring contest with one who was lying right up by the fence. He opened his eye when I stuck my head over the fence, and watched me. I noticed his eye moved as I did. After several minutes I suddenly thought that I might be antagonizing him, and wondered if the Cyclone fence between us was really up to cooling his jets should he become more interested.
So last night I had dinner with a friend, and that came up in conversation.
“Cyclone fence?” she says. “Wimp! Try Brazos Bend!”
And she tells me about it. I can’t believe I grew up here and never knew of this.
It’s just southwest of town, Brazos Bend State Park. I’d estimate that it’s 10-12 sq. mi., some of it upland coastal plain, but a good deal is in the Brazos River bottom, and that is swamp with a few lakes.
As I pull off the highway onto the park entrance road, the first sign I see says, “Alligators exist in this Park.” The next one say, “Poisonous snakes exist in this Park.” I think, “There’s no poisonous snakes or alligators in my apartment; what am I doing here?”
At the Ranger hut I get a park map with a section entitled Alligator Ettiquette, that includes the following:
• Keep at least 30 ft. from an alligator* - do not assume they’re slow-moving.
• Do not throw objects into the water for your dog to retrieve.
• Do not wade in any water in Brazos Bend State Park.
• If an alligator goes after a fish you have caught, cut the line and let the alligator have the fish.
• Stay clear of grasses, twigs and/or soil near the side of a trail; it may be a nest and the mother alligator is probably close by guarding it.
• If an alligator opens its mouth and hisses, you have come too close. Retreat slowly; make no quick moves. Keep your eyes on the alligator.
*Good idea, but as it turns out, not always possible.
The park is largely a series of trails through an alligator infested swamp. Cool idea - we know where a bunch of alligators live; let’s put a bunch of picnic tables there. Who are the intended beneficiaries of that? Heh.
So I venture out. My first stop is a small lake where, at first, it appears there is nothing. But as I sit there watching for a moment, I pick up a symphony of movements. Birds, the likes of which I never see in the city only a few miles away, are in motion, stalking things, perhaps each other. A turtle - a big turtle - or, no, wait, is that a family of turtles?
A Park Ranger happens by and corrects my estimation of the first 'gator I’ve seen’s length (I can only see what’s above water) by a factor of two, and tells me where the big ones are having a beach party.
Again I hit the trail. I haven’t yet seen but two 'gators as I stroll this little path through the swamp, full of rotting vegetation, sunken logs and treacherous snakes. The birds, though, are amazing. I’m able only to identify a few.
And then, as I cross a low spot, I realize that one of those sunken logs is tracking my progress. Whoohoo. High step to the next batch of people I see (surely I’m faster than one of them).
There are signs posted with additional warnings. One I like is:
- If you encounter an alligator on a path or bridge, give the alligator the right-of-way (I don’t really think I needed to be told that).
Anyway, while it was not a death-defying experience (most were snoozing, but one did lift his head and follow me across his field of vision - that was stimulating).
In the end I saw about 40 'gators, some of them only a few feet away, some of them (two) really big,
So, I shared.
