THE GREAT GATOR HUNT
War With The Gator
Editor's Note: I can’t think of anything more
exciting than hunting big bull aggressive alligators
with a bow. This week I’ll take you with me on
a thrilling alligator hunt. Alligator hunting is primarily
a southern sport since gators don’t do well in
snow. Because regulations vary from state to state on
seasons, bag limits and equipment you can use, always
check the laws in the state where you plan to hunt.
"That gator's laying back on the tree," Tadlock
whispered as he spotted the mammoth gator for the second
time. "Get ready, Ronnie." Groom had replaced
the 250-pound braided cable with 200-pound braided Dacron
line. He knew the line would peel off the reel easier,
even if the line didn't have the strength of the cable.
At the end of the line, he had tied two cork bottles.
If we hit the gator, we could keep up with his movements
as he drug the line around attached to both the arrow
and the bottles on the surface. Tadlock started calling.
The gorilla-sized gator once more left the tree and
swam out to do battle in midstream. "I'll get that
gator," Groom announced with confidence as he drew
his bow and pointed at the gator swimming at us looking
for something to kill. When 8 feet from the boat, the
huge reptile once more turned sideways, and Groom launched
an arrow. The solid fiberglass shaft penetrated deep
into the big gator's neck. This time when the lizard
dove, it pulled out line. The two plastic bottles jumped
out of the 5-gallon bucket where they rested.
"We got him!" I yelled to Tadlock. "Nope,"
Tadlock disagreed. "We've got him hit. But we're
a long way from having him in the boat." As the
gator started swimming upstream, Wheeler and Waller
maneuvered their boat into position to try and keep
the gator in the deep water. Both boats flanked the
gator as he swam deep along the bottom. We had hoped
the sound of the motors would make the reptile stay
in midstream away from the tree-lined and stump-infested
bank to enable us to get another shot. Tadlock informed
us that a gator only could stay down for 30 to 45 minutes
before it had to come up for air. He told Groom to,
"get a broadhead ready. You've got that fish arrow
in him already. When that gator comes up, put a broadhead
in him this time." We chased the plastic jugs upstream.
As the gigantic gator appeared, Groom launched a second
arrow. Once more the alligator dove for the bottom.
However, this time, he turned toward the bank lined
with fallen trees. Although both boats circled the gator,
we couldn't keep him out of the trees. When the jugs
lodged in the trees, we knew the gator probably lay
close to the bank under the trees. "There he is,"
Tadlock whispered. We saw the gator's head laying on
a limb and Groom's fish arrow still well-placed in the
gator's neck.
"Get another fish arrow with a cable on it,"
Tadlock directed. Groom quickly
followed Tadlock's instructions, and the boat plowed
ahead toward the gator. "Leave the cable in the
bucket instead of wrapping it around the spool on the
bow." Only 6 feet from the gator, Groom launched
another arrow. When this third arrow hit, the gator's
massive head came back toward the boat. I saw an immense
number of teeth inside his canyon-wide mouth. I moved
quickly to get away from the terrifying teeth to the
other side of the 4-1/2-foot wide boat. When the gator
dove this time, he had finished playing. He swam through
the limbs and broke the 200-pound test line attached
to the bottles. "We don't have the bottles to follow
now, John," I told Tadlock. "What do we do?"
Groom said, "I don't have any more fish arrows,
either," Tadlock explained. "We'll have to
harpoon him." Tadlock had two harpoons like the
old whalers once used with heavy oak shafts and large
stainless-steel rods in their ends. These harpoons had
the points of spear guns attached to the ends of their
shafts with break-away steel cables. As we waited and
watched the surface of the water, we saw the white shaft
of the fish arrow appear in midstream. "There's
the gator," Tadlock reported. "Get ready,
Ronnie."
Groom grabbed the harpoon and prepared for the thrust.
However, the gator vanished before we could get close
enough to make the strike. Two more times the gator
came to the surface and then disappeared. I thought
we'd lost the giant lizard. But the next time we spotted
the trophy gator, he lay in the limbs of a tree up against
the bank. Tadlock motored the boat toward the broad
gator, and Groom readied the harpoon. When the boat
was less than 1 foot from the gator, Groom drove the
harpoon deep into the gator's back. The long lizard
twisted, rolled and bent the end of the shaft. We readied
the second harpoon. When the gator reappeared, Groom
made a second thrust. This time, the harpoon did its
job, and we had a strong cable attached to the gator.
Instead of diving, however, the behemoth gator threw
his head back toward the boat, coming within 1 foot
of Tadlock. Wheeler, watching from the second boat,
yelled out, "Ya'll got a real S.O.B. on the line,
haven't you?" as he laughed and watched the splash
of the big gator. Although we had the cable firmly attached
to the gator now, the brute lizard had swam to the bottom.
We could feel the cable rubbing against a log underneath
the surface. "The gator's under a log," Tadlock
said. "We may have a hard time getting him out."
When
I asked what we should do, Tadlock's eyes twinkled like
those of a leprechaun about to reveal the location of
a pot of gold. He told me, "We'll wait for about
an hour. If the gator doesn't come out from under the
log, we'll let Eugene swim down the cable and pull that
gator out. Then we can get the gator up and into the
boat." Caught off-guard, I couldn't believe Wheeler
would dive in the water, swim down the cable, wrestle
the alligator and pull it out from under the log. But
when I questioned Wheeler, in his slow southern drawl
he replied sarcastically "Yeah, sure, I'm gonna
swim down that cable and grab that gator. And from now
on, every time someone comes down this river, they'll
say, `you see that tree over there against the bank?
That's where Eugene Wheeler was turned into alligator
manure.'" We all laughed while we waited on the
gator's next move.
TOMORROW: THE FINAL BATTLE
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