Later, gator
Would an alligator disrupt a Florida vacation?
We pressed our noses to the windows of our ancient RV as the south Florida landscape flattened.
We knew we were entering alligator country, and I was as eager as any of my children to see my first alligator in the wild. Oh, what glee when I saw one in a roadside ditch! And then another. And another and another. Soon, they were like a patterned wallpaper.
Though much of south Florida is covered with terrain that is part of the Everglades, only a portion of the region is actually in Everglades National Park. We’d been driving for an hour in country that looked like the Everglades but were still miles from the official boundary.
At last the RV bumped onto an unpaved parking area. We were there for an airboat ride. The water was low that year, and the day was scorching. As we waited for the tour to get ready, we visited some penned animals and stared stupidly at grasshoppers big enough to swallow a small poodle.
Our pilot handed us each two cotton balls as we boarded the small craft. We were instructed to stuff them in our ears.
Airboats are built to traverse extremely shallow water. Rather than a propeller in the water, which would instantly be tangled with grass, they sport a giant fan on the back of the boat. They’re called airboats, not because they float on air, but because they use air pressure rather than water to propel themselves.
They sound similar to a medium-size jet engine. We certainly didn’t have to worry about taking any animal by surprise.
Once underway, the pilot ushered us to one ecosystem after another. A hammock is a pocket of deeper water where earth berms support trees and shrubs. We saw baby alligators barely 2 feet long and grandfather alligators.
The creatures were used to the airboats. When the drivers stopped the boats, they’d gather nearby, hoping for a treat from the driver’s pocketful of marshmallows. It turns out that those big, wicked-looking teeth include at least one sweet tooth. We also saw bird nests and even some endangered species.
On to the River of Grass ecosystem that surrounds the hammocks. The airboat skimmed over the low grassy plains. Suddenly, the driver killed the engine and invited everyone to climb out of the boat and go for a little wade.
I was horrified when my oldest son hopped up and stepped out of the boat. “Alligators don’t come into these parts,” he blithely told me.
Rob’s bravery encouraged several other passengers to try it, too. He wasn’t bitten by an Everglades monster, nor sucked into the mud. He said the bottom was more sandy than muddy. I contented myself by accepting that I was a coward.
Complex, but fragile
There are many different ecosystems in the Everglades region. Large mammals like deer or panthers haunt the piney islands. Mosquitoes the size of humming birds descend in clouds like something out of an Alfred Hitchcock movie on tourists to cheap to buy the repellent.
At the tip of the park, rare crocodiles coexist with their reptilian cousins, and flamingos decorate the shore. The day we visited, one of the kids found a pink feather but no flamingo attached.
Though a vast and complex system, the Florida Everglades also are fragile. Though this year has seen much higher water than in recent years, the fluctuations in weather can quickly cause jeopardy for the flora and fauna of the region.
Exotic species, introduced by man either deliberately or accidentally also create competition for the food supply. Species like the boa constrictor are non-native and pose a threat to the ecosystem because they tend to thrive and then crowd out the natives.
But regardless of the season, the Everglades thoroughly deliver American alligator viewing and enough adventure to keep mothers trembling. If you go, get the strongest mosquito repellent you can find and then bathe in it. Reapply each time your skin melts off in the heat.
Only in America. God bless it!