"If you can't laugh at yourself, everyone else will be glad to
help
you." - Ancient Oriental Proverb invented a few minutes
ago
Photographing alligators can be a lot of fun, keeping two assumptions in mind. The first assumption is that the photographer doesn't do anything foolish, and the second assumption is that nothing really unexpected happens. When neither assumption holds true, the situation can still be a lot of fun, albeit much more so for the observer than the photographer.
I had carefully positioned my tripod on the bank of the St. John's river in a very promising spot where I had seen plenty of bright reptilian eyes reflecting in the beam of my flashlight on the previous night. Setting myself up on what I thought was secure ground, I proceeded to offer free amusement to any creature in the vicinity. I slapped the mud vigorously in front of me while uttering a series of loud, squeaky grunts and lip-smacks. This was at least theoretically supposed to be an imitation of the distress calls of a baby alligator, with a few feeding and breeding noises thrown in for good measure. Anyhow it was loud and enthusiastic and it did the trick.
Alligators have better taste than people in some respects at least, since they obviously regarded my virtuoso slapping and grunting performance as the very height of winning charm and sociability. A human observer would no doubt have expressed another opinion, but fortunately for my reputation as a sane woman fit to manage my own affairs, this was a quiet and solitary piece of swamp with no discernable human population.
The gators were being very obliging that evening, and they were swarming up closer in very good numbers just as I stepped into an unexpected mudhole. This was a California girl's first up-close and personal acquaintance with Florida mud, and it was a rude and hasty introduction, albeit a thorough one.
Several things happened in rapid succession. A truly bilious belch of reeking swamp gas rose up around me, perfuming my clothes and hair. I sank down to one thigh in this oozy, feculent stuff, tilting me and my tripod at a rather alarming angle. Suddenly I was as solidly planted as a flag in enemy territory, and as obviously sticking out. Still perfectly willing to be obliging, a dozen-odd alligators were closing in curiously. I was alone on a long stretch of river, and it was just starting to get dark. I could not move my leg.
Intrepid adventurer that I am, I naturally responded with great alacrity. That is to say, I immediately started making funny noises that didn't sound like gator calls at all. They sounded more like, "Oh, Sh...", which is the distress call of another species entirely. Then I shut my mouth altogether and considered what I should do.
I managed to get myself out of the mudhole by the rapid but unpleasant expedient of laying my entire body down on the surface of the odiferous gunk and levering my leg out. I extricated myself more or less successfully, minus one boot which I had to dig for with my bare hands while balancing tripod and camera. It was a ticklish business keeping the solid expensive object between me and the gators with one end of it above water. There are probably more exciting and athletic things to do while in Florida, but I haven't managed to find out about any of them yet.
Two dozen vaguely curious reptilian eyeballs stared at me languidly throughout this operation. No doubt they were wondering what in the world this crazy human was doing, and what "Oh Sh..." and all those other interesting human noises meant. I don't know what kind of gator-language comments they were making to one another in the meantime, and I don't really want to know, but I think there must have been some really eloquent nudges and winks out amongst the lily-pads when they thought I wasn't watching.
My clothes were destroyed, my hair was unspeakable, one boot was completely filled with evil smelling swamp mud and the pictures weren't all that great anyways. The gators were really quite well mannered about the incident, however. None of them so much as laughed. But you know, come to think of it, I suspect all of them were smiling.
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