Alligator Alley Cannibals

In the morning, I found a truck repair shop and set to work. The 579 had been running a little rough, so I found an underground tank of #2 diesel and the additives to treat it. The rig had only 7423 miles on it, but I suspected that the fuel was making the truck run badly. Just in case, I found the right fuel filter and replaced it. I left about noon with the truck running a lot better and my fuel tanks topped off.

I kicked myself for not driving down to the coast when I had the chance in Texas before I got to Houston. I still wanted to get there, so thought I would try in Louisiana. Once again, wildflowers bloomed everywhere, abuzz with bees and encircled by butterflies. I didn't know there were so many varieties. There was really nothing left of the East Texas Piney Woods though. I had read before everything happened that the loblolly pine was being attacked by pine beetles from the increasing droughts in the South and Southeast. I expected those dead trees made for one horrendous fire when the time came. Once in a while I saw a small island of the tall survivors in the sea of wildflowers, but that was it.

Everywhere, there were skinny sprouts 3 to 4 feet tall. Much taller than I had seen in the North the year before. The forest was returning. Including the ditches and shoulder on the interstates. The broad interstate right-of-ways of the past, mowed from bank to bank, were disappearing and wildflowers, tall grass and tree sprouts were filling them in. It was already difficult to drive of the pavement in those areas, mowing down small trees as I went. In a very few years, only the paved sections would be navigable, and grass was already sprouting through small cracks in that. No one to maintain the roads. Nature would reclaim them.

By mid-afternoon, I reached I-20 at Marshall and started east again to Shreveport. I stopped for the night at the intersection of 20 with I-49. The Red River was out of its banks and flooding the burned-out town from spring rain further north. I parked on the high ramp leading south for the night. In the morning, I began to see the extent of the flooding, hoping that I could get to the coast as I headed southeast to Lafayette. About 9 o'clock, I saw a sign for an Alligator Farm, "3 miles," and turned off the highway to see what was there.

The place was in shambles, and flooded like everything else. There were several small pond enclosures with evidence that there had been alligators there. But those fenced ponds were empty. At the edge of the property, a river ran and was the source of flooding. When I looked out upon that, I saw the heads of several large alligators swimming around. They had fared quite well. It looked like those alligators had escaped from cages or the people there had purposely cut the cages open so the alligators could escape. I looked through the binoculars I had acquired at Pendleton and saw that, indeed, the cages had been cut open. As strong as alligators are, they couldn't have escaped without human help.

I couldn't turn around, so I backed up the 3 miles and continued on my way toward Alexandria. Along the way, I began spotting what looked like discarded truck tires on the shoulders and in the highway ahead. They were alligators--hundreds of them! Both alive and dead. And a lot of birds… From storks and herons and vultures all the way down to songbirds, picking away at the dead ones. There were too many to drive around them all, and I started running over some, finding they gave me quite a jolt, with both the tractor and trailer bouncing over, almost losing my hand on the wheel and the fear of turning over. It felt like I was running a gauntlet. With no traffic on the road and no vibration coming up through the pavement, many alligators felt free to lie in the warmest spot, the middle of the highway.

I found that I had to slow down and avoid the really big ones. The live ones were sunning themselves and half asleep in the morning sun--no real threat. I gathered they prospered during those three cold dark winters, lying deep in mud until the cold was over and then came out hungry, eating the bodies of all the rotting dead. With so many newborn surviving, and food no longer so readily available, I suspected they would turn into cannibals. Hence, all the dead ones. I made a mental note to watch myself whenever I was on the ground in these parts. I didn't heed my own advice.

But as the morning rolled on and I started to get hungry for lunch, I thought perhaps I would try fresh alligator and save the rest if it was any good by my usual preservation methods. I still had plenty of dried meat and fish, but my curiosity got the best of me. I saw a small alligator sunning itself up ahead and pulled up near it and stopped. The gator didn't move and that was a good thing.

I got out my crossbow and stepped down from the truck. It still didn't move. Seemed to be just lazily enjoying the sun. Its eyelids closed. Unafraid of the sound of my truck approaching and stopping. I walked up very carefully to within about 10 feet, aimed and made a perfect brain shot. It was as easy as buying alligator shoes at a shoe store. I pulled out my knife and walked on over to see what I could do to get some meat to broil that evening. The little guy was about 3 feet long and probably weighed about 30 pounds. I started to pick him up when off to my right in my peripheral vision I saw something coming out of the clump of pine seedlings and tall grass…

It was a bull alligator of tremendous size coming at me so fast that I dropped the alligator, my knife and my crossbow, turned, and ran back to the truck. I jumped up on the top step just as his jaws reached me and snapped loudly 6 inches from my feet and he fell heavily down on the pavement below me. I jerked the door open and climbed in, closing the door hard behind me when he attacked again coming halfway up the door with his next move.

I could have just driven off at that point, but the thought of losing my crossbow had me do something else. I went into the sleeper and got the 357 Magnum. I hated to kill the beast, but there was no danger of killing one depleting the population here, so I took aim at him looking sinisterly  up at me, and with one shot ended his life. After I picked up the three footer, my knife and my crossbow, I measured the beast--13'4". Probably the father of the smaller one; guarding him from cannibals. I didn't feel superior killing them, father and son, but was grateful that I would taste alligator for the first time very soon.

North of Alexandria, I started running into water on the road. At least the alligators thinned out. By the time I got close to the city, I-49 was nearly impassable. I certainly didn't want to stall out in deep water. I promised myself to be careful. Just ahead, when I got to Boyce, the river was already in the road. Under water as far as I could see. I turned around and backtracked a mile to Louisiana 121 and took that south. At Gardner, I took a chance, based on the map, and took Louisiana 28 east back to Alexandria.

Before I got to the I-49 intersection, I saw water up ahead again. Fortunately there was a bypass and I took that south picking up I-49 high and dry southward. I was relieved, but still unsure what was up ahead. Began to wonder if my attempt to reach the Gulf Coast would be folly with all the rain and flooding. Something I didn't want to get caught in. The weather channels weren't working anymore.

I made it all the way to I-10 at Breaux Bridge that night. Everything there was also underwater. Fortunately the interstate was once again on high ground. I pulled out my grill and braised some alligator. I found it not to my liking… too fishy tasting, so I left it for the birds to pick at in the morning. It rained hard that night. What was left of that little alligator that I threw out the night before was gone. It looked like the water by the side of the road was still rising when I started east again to a low bright sun chasing away the fog and drying everything off.

Shortly, I found myself on a high bridge that ran for miles. All I could see was water and bald cypress trees. Because they were surrounded by water during the great fires, most of them were still growing and had not burned. I assumed  that the view I was seeing was like it was before… Miles and miles of cypress swamp. No wonder the alligators fared so well. Their habitat wasn't destroyed and they had a lot of food when they left the swamplands hunting.

With nothing on that high bridge except an occasional stalled truck or car, a lost turtle or alligator and lots of birds on the railings, I made great time and was already on the bridge over the Mississippi at Baton Rouge by midmorning. When I saw how flooded everything was, I decided that it was useless to go to New Orleans. I took I-12 straight east rather than waste my time looking for any beaches in the New Orleans area. I remembered the city during Hurricane Katrina and didn't want to see that sight again. I knew it would be worse.

With only a few minor detours, I once again made good time all day. It was a marvel seeing all the birds everywhere. Huge flocks of them all along the road, some setting up rookeries to raise their young. Some migrating through--geese and ducks. When I got near Gulfport, I began to see more water. Thought I would get down to the beach. Unfortunately, everywhere I tried, the water, the Gulf of Mexico seemed to have invaded and was lapping at I-10 as its high tide mark.

At Pascagoula there was water on the road and it was saltwater. I wasn't sure how much further I could stay on I-10, but I pushed on and spent the night on the outskirts of Mobile. Tired, but not beaten. It was hot and humid at 97°. So, I turned on the air conditioner for a while to charge the sleeper cooler until I went to sleep. I slept soundly, hoping to make the Florida Atlantic Coast the next day.