dahut
Hero Member
- Nov 6, 2004
- 809
- 54
- Detector(s) used
- 21 years behind a coil
Fisher F70
Bounty Hunter Lone Star
Tesoro Tiger Shark
- Primary Interest:
- All Treasure Hunting
Over on the beach forum one of the members talked about hunting in FL lakes and encountering alligators on his adventuring. He assured us, of course, that humans were not naturally the prey of gators' - not on the "menu," so to speak.
It reminded me of something that happened more than a few years ago and I shared it over there. Here it is for the rest of my fellow T-Netters to read.
"I remember going fishing out of Orange Park, FL once, with my brother in law. I had only been in FL for about 3 days and he hauled me off to gigantic Lake Orange, motoring us into a backwater arm of the lake... somewhere. It was June, and by about 11AM I was getting hot. Imagine that, an open boat in FL, in the summer and I was getting hot.
I decided to dangle my feet over the side and splash a little water around. I even entertained the notion of taking a dip. Jim, my brother-in-law, a long time Floridian looked at me and asked simply,
"Uh, what are you doing?"
"Man, this place is like a sweatbath. I need to cool off!"
"See that over there?" he said and pointed to a log in the water.
"Yeah, so. An old log. What of it?" I was cockier in those days.
He reached down and picked up one of the paddles in the bottom of the boat. Nonchalantly, almost lazily, he tossed it the 15 feet or so it took to reach the log.
The surface exploded!! An alligator as long as our johnboat flung his giant head out of the water and crashed it down on that matchstick of a paddle. For just a moment, the gators smooth, creamy underbelly was exposed in the light of the bright sun. For all it's part, the hapless paddle could only strike for the surface, madly bobbing about in the once calm cove. The beast whipped around, plunging it's powerful tail into the black water and sped off with a splash - about 40 yards. There it slowed, then halted, peering at us. The ripples died away. Once more, all you could see was a log - with eyes.
Jim tapped me on the shoulder with the other paddle.
I spun around, my mouth agape and my eyes like saucers. I couldn't speak and my hands gripped the gunwale, knuckles standing out starkly in the sun.
He thrust the paddle at me and nodded towards the bullrushes, then lit another cigarette.
"Here, take this. Now, scoot us on over there so's we can get what's left of that paddle. Want another beer?"
Say what you want about 'gators and their natural prey. When in FL, I'm taking a BIG paddle along."
It reminded me of something that happened more than a few years ago and I shared it over there. Here it is for the rest of my fellow T-Netters to read.
"I remember going fishing out of Orange Park, FL once, with my brother in law. I had only been in FL for about 3 days and he hauled me off to gigantic Lake Orange, motoring us into a backwater arm of the lake... somewhere. It was June, and by about 11AM I was getting hot. Imagine that, an open boat in FL, in the summer and I was getting hot.
I decided to dangle my feet over the side and splash a little water around. I even entertained the notion of taking a dip. Jim, my brother-in-law, a long time Floridian looked at me and asked simply,
"Uh, what are you doing?"
"Man, this place is like a sweatbath. I need to cool off!"
"See that over there?" he said and pointed to a log in the water.
"Yeah, so. An old log. What of it?" I was cockier in those days.
He reached down and picked up one of the paddles in the bottom of the boat. Nonchalantly, almost lazily, he tossed it the 15 feet or so it took to reach the log.
The surface exploded!! An alligator as long as our johnboat flung his giant head out of the water and crashed it down on that matchstick of a paddle. For just a moment, the gators smooth, creamy underbelly was exposed in the light of the bright sun. For all it's part, the hapless paddle could only strike for the surface, madly bobbing about in the once calm cove. The beast whipped around, plunging it's powerful tail into the black water and sped off with a splash - about 40 yards. There it slowed, then halted, peering at us. The ripples died away. Once more, all you could see was a log - with eyes.
Jim tapped me on the shoulder with the other paddle.
I spun around, my mouth agape and my eyes like saucers. I couldn't speak and my hands gripped the gunwale, knuckles standing out starkly in the sun.
He thrust the paddle at me and nodded towards the bullrushes, then lit another cigarette.
"Here, take this. Now, scoot us on over there so's we can get what's left of that paddle. Want another beer?"
Say what you want about 'gators and their natural prey. When in FL, I'm taking a BIG paddle along."