Gators on the Brain, Part 1

Summers growing up in eastern North Carolina, I was back and forth to different beaches with family and friends, and later on my own. So by the time I became an adult, I figured I knew a thing or two about this end of the Tarheel State. 

It turns out I knew much less than I thought. I had no idea, for instance, that you could find alligators in coastal North Carolina. Those things are supposed to all be down in Florida and Louisiana, eating Pomeranians and shi tzus right out of the yards of people who just migrated from up north and bought a ridiculously overpriced condo on the edge of a swamp.

Even when I got older, and found myself often crossing the Alligator River on my way to the Outer Banks, I never imagined there might be any real gators lurking nearby. After all, here down South we’ll build a neighborhood atop an old tobacco field that for generations has been stripped of trees, and then call the place something like Glen Arbor or Pine Crest. The Alligator River is a lot cooler name than those, I’ll grant you, but it’s still just a name. Right?

One sunny late-summer day almost 10 years ago, a friend and I were heading back from Nags Head to our then-homes in Greenville. We had just crossed the Alligator River bridge a few minutes earlier. As my friend drove, I stared out at the lines of basking turtles atop dead trees toppled into the roadside canals, and tried to spy a hint of a black bear hiding in the underbrush.

By then, I’d seen a picture of an alligator taken in North Carolina, but that was only a little better than seeing a “photo” of Bigfoot in the National Enquirer. When I saw a real gator with my own startled eyes, only then would I believe it.

My friend drew my attention to just ahead of us, where a young man and woman were pulled over onto the grass at canal’s edge. Both were pointing into the dark water, and gesturing wildly. At first I thought maybe someone else had run off the road into the canal, as unfortunately happens now and then, but the young couple seemed thrilled with whatever they were seeing. So by the time we pulled even with them, my eyes were fixed on the water. And there it was, the toothy head of a reptilian beast, the bottom of its open mouth seeming to rest atop the water. Its snout was long and wide, which meant the part of the animal still submerged was probably a whole heck of a lot bigger than a breadbox. This joker had been around a while.

Out of all the Carolina beaches, I’ve always loved the Outer Banks in particular – there’s something that’s still wild about it. Sure, there’s been business build-up through the years, and the housing boom has brought countless new cottages and hotels; nonetheless, that certain untamable something remains. Seeing that lone gator just as were leaving the islands only made me love the place more.

A few weeks ago, a friend of my college-age niece was visiting from the Outer Banks, where his family lives year-round. The young man works on his dad’s fishing boat, which docks near Avon, on Hatteras Island. I told him about my gator sighting in the canal. That story always went over well.

This guy didn’t even blink. Where he lived, he said, you’d see the things in ponds and marshy areas from time to time. Since then, I’ve had a state park ranger tell me that not only are there no alligators in Avon, there are none in North Carolina, period!

All I can say is that if you go walking off the beaten path in the wonderful wilds of Dare, Hyde or Tyrell counties, you might want to keep a tight leash on your own darling little Precious or Fifi. Y’know, just in case.

– Frank