I grew up in Louisiana, so I have seen gators. Then I lived in Atlanta, where the only gator you see is fashioned into a boot or a shoe.
So here I am back in Louisiana, and south Louisiana to boot. For more than two years here, I was on a gator drought. Occasionally, I’d see the baby gator at some of the festivals I covered for the American Press. However, the gator “au natural” escaped me.
Southwest Louisiana is one giant wetland with fresh and brackish waters right out your front door. There are more than a thousand shades of green occurring naturally here. It is a gator/waterfowl Mecca. Think the reality TV series “Swamp People” — not really, but almost.
Much to my disappointment after making trip after trip to Cameron Parish, the wild gator always evaded my sight and camera until I made my latest trip down to Creole.
With 60 minutes to kill before my next assignment in Cameron Parish, I cruised down a road just off of La. 27 and north of the ship channel. Rolling slowly past a small pool of water on the side of the road, I spied what could have easily been a log except for the texture of reptile skin.
Hastily slipping on my 70-200mm zoom lens on the Mark IV, I turned my car around at the end of the road. Rolling back to the point where I thought I saw what could have been something that looked like it was a gator, I parked my car. Camera in hand, I slipped out of my car leaving my car door open (just in case).
Peering over the hood of my car to the backwater pool, I saw her – all 10 or more feet of her — “au natural.” She was sunning and on her head sat a baby resting his little reptile feet on mama’s eye sockets.
I fired off a couple of shots but the 70-200mm did not get me close enough without being in “eating” range. So far, so good, mama had not moved. Seizing the opportunity, I opted for the 300mm. I changed the lens quickly and quietly while leaning inside my car with both eyes moving from camera to gator then back again.
This time I moved to the other end of the car, daring to be closer to mama. My exposure needed to be bracketed (varied) to allow for the glare on the water and the dark shades of a gator’s skin. Quickly, I fired off three shots, changed the exposure and fired three more.
On the seventh shot, mama started to move. For a brief second I debated my next camera angle, then the shear size of mama kicked in the fear factor. A picture is worth a 1,000 words but it is not worth an arm or a leg. Logic won. I got back in the car and fled with my all my extremities intact.
Safely inside the car, I checked my photos for exposure and focus. Yes! I had my gator “au natural” photo. With only 15 minutes until my next assignment, I downloaded the files onto my laptop just to be certain the shot was good.
Some things are missed in the viewfinder while shooting on the fly. Photos often look very different on a 15-inch screen than they appear on a small camera screen. Looking at my shots of mama sunning on the log with baby, I noticed another baby gator, then another, and another.
In all mama had nine babies — NINE babies.
** This notebook ran in the American Press on December 12, 2010
STORY BY KAREN WINK
For transparency sake, let me state that I am a complete “sucker” for any kind of animal or story related to an animal. So when I was first contacted about four furry stowaways on the USS Orleck, I could not wait to write this little fluffy tale. No hard news here: just cute, cuddly orphaned kittens. I am just lucky to have walked away without adopting one.
