Sitting on the deck this morning I heard Son-of-a-wrek squeal like a teenager.
Not really alarmed. He often expresses himself, thus.
Mid-dau stepped out and said: “Wut!?”
I just shook my head.
He comes running up the deck steps and says “There’s a gator in the pond, Ma!”
Sure. Son, whatever you say.
He runs to the gun safe gets the bang stick.
He’s already got it loaded and his huge treble hook over his shoulder. He tromps down there. Every one here followed behind. Even the dogs.
Not me. I’m crippled at the moment. Not that I’d traipse down there.
I’m pretty sure there’s not a gator.
Altho’ Two Bayou is rather close and it’s full of gators. (It’s only one Bayou)
I glance at Ark. Game and Fish website to make sure it’s legal to take Alligator.
It is.
Now I know why he had the grapple hook.
My god, the boy is gonna do a Steve Irwin.
I text my Mid-dau, don’t let him get killed.
She text back “how’m I gonna stop him”
Well, this could potentially ruin my day. As I’m not amenable to that, I’m actively thinking ways to curtail the violence and/or horror.
I didn’t do much thinking before I heard a scream and copious laughter.
Here’s what went down, down there:
He threw the big hook several times. The gator didn’t move.
Finally he got purchase and pulled it closer to the bank. Had the bang stick ready.
He slid down on his butt onto the mud,
And was attacked. Almost immediately. When he slid down the rope pulled the gator in.
The unusual tree shaped, leafy gator was so mad at Son he put a scrape on his arm.
And leaves in his hair.
He comes back up to the deck, dejectedly saying; “Yeah, I meant to get that branch outta the pond, all along.”
O–kay!
