University of Virginia Library

ALLIGATOR KILLING.

In the dark recesses of the loneliest swamps—in those
dismal abodes where production and decay run riot—
where the serpent crawls from his den among the tangled
ferns and luxuriant grass, and hisses forth, unmolested,
his propensities to destroy—where the toad and
lizard spend the livelong day in their melancholy chirpings—where
the stagnant pool festers and ferments, and
bubbles up its foul miasma—where the fungi seem to
grow beneath your gaze—where the unclean birds retire
after their repast, and sit and stare with dull eyes in
vacancy for hours and days together;—there originates
the alligator; there, if happy in his history, he lives
and dies.

But, alas! the pioneer of the forest invades his home
—the axe lets in the sunshine upon his hiding-places:—
and he frequently finds himself, like the Indian, surrounded
by the encroachments of civilization, a mere

intruder, in his original domain—and under such circumstances
only, does he become an object of rough
sport, the incidents of which deserve a passing notice.

The extreme southern portions of the United States
are exceedingly favorable to the growth of the alligator:
in the swamps that stretch over a vast extent of country,
inaccessible almost to man, they increase in numbers
and size, live undisputed monarchs of their abodes,
exhibiting but little more intelligence, and exerting but
little more volition than decayed trunks of trees, for
which they are not unfrequently mistaken.

In these swampy regions, however, are found high
ridges of land inviting cultivation. The log cabin takes
the place of the rank vegetation—the evidences of thrift
appear—and as the running streams display themselves,
and are cleared for navigation, that old settler, the alligator,
becomes exposed, and falls a victim to the rapacity
of man.

Thus hunted—like creatures of higher organization,
he grows more intelligent, from the dangers of his situation;
his instincts become more subtle, and he wars in
turn upon his only enemy; soon acquires a civilized taste
for pork and poultry, and acquires also a very uncivilized
one for dogs.

An alligator, in the truly savage state, is a very
happy reptile: encased in an armor as impenetrable as
that of Ajax, he moves about, unharmed by surrounding
circumstances.

The fangs of the rattlesnake grate over his scales
as they would over a file; the constrictor finds nothing
about him to crush; the poisonous moccason bites at
him in vain; and the greatest pest of all, the mosquito,
which fills the air of his abode with a million stings, that
burn the flesh of other living things like sparks of fire,
buzz out their fury upon his carcass in vain.

To say that he enjoys not these advantages—that
he crawls not forth as a proud knight in his armor—
that he treads not upon the land as a master—and
moves in the water the same—would be doing injustice
to his actions, and his habits, and the philosophical example
of independence which he sets to the trembling
victims daily sacrificed to his wants.

The character of an alligator's face is far from being
a flattering letter of recommendation. The mouth is
enormously large, and extends from the extreme tip of
the nose backwards until it passes the ears; indeed,
about one third of the whole animal is mouth, which,
being ornamented with superabundant rows of white
teeth, gives the same hope of getting out of it, sound in
body and mind, if once in, as does the hopper of a barkmill.
Its body is short and round, not unlike that of a
horse; its tail is very long, and flattened at the end like
an oar. It has the most dexterous use of this appendage,
which propels it along swiftly in the water, and on
land answers the purpose of a weapon of defence.

The traveller through the lonely swamp at nightfall

often finds himself surrounded by these singular creatures,
and if he be unaccustomed to their presence and
habits, they cause great alarm. Scattered about in
every direction, yet hidden by the darkness, he hears
their huge jaws open and shut with a force that makes
a noise, when numbers are congregated, like echoing
thunder.

Again, in the glare of the camp fire will sometimes
be seen the huge alligator crawling within the lighted
circle, attracted by the smell of food—perchance you
have squatted upon a nest of eggs, encased with great
judgment in the centre of some high ground you yourself
have chosen to pass the night upon.

Many there are who go unconcernedly to sleep with
such intruders in their immediate vicinity; but a rifle
ball, effectively fired, will most certainly leave you unmolested,
while the alligator, in its agonies of death, no
doubt takes comfort in the thought, that the sun will
hatch out its eggs, and that there will grow up a numerous
brood of young, as hideous and destructive as
itself.

The alligator is a luxurious animal, fond of all the
comforts of life, which are, according to its habits, plentifully
scattered around it. We have watched them, enjoying
their evening nap in the shades of tangled vine,
and in the hollow trunk of the cypress, or floating like a
log on the top of some sluggish pool.

We have seen them sporting in the green slime, and

watching, like a dainty gourmand, the fattest frogs and
longest snakes; but they are in the height of their glory,
stretched out upon the sand-bar in the meridian sun,
when the summer heats pour down and radiate back
from the parched sand, as tangibly as they would from
red-hot iron. In such places will they bask, and blow
off, with a loud noise, the inflated air and water which
expands within them, occasionally rolling about their
swinish eyes with a slowness of motion, which, while it
expresses the most perfect satisfaction, is in no way calculated
to agitate their nerves, or discompose them, by
too suddenly taking the impression of outward objects.

While thus disposed, and after the first nap is taken,
they amuse themselves with opening their huge jaws to
their widest extent, upon the inside of which, instinctively
settle, thousands of mosquitoes and other noxious
insects which infest the abode of the alligator. When
the inside of the mouth is thus covered, the reptile brings
his jaws together with inconceivable velocity, gives a
gulp or two, and again sets his formidable trap for this
small game.

Some years since, a gentleman in the southern part
of Louisiana, on “opening a plantation,” found, after
most of the forest trees had been cleared off, that in the
centre of his land was a boggy piece of low soil, nearly
twenty acres in extent. This place was singularly infested
with alligators. Among the first victims that fell a prey
to their rapacity, were a number of hogs and fine poultry;

next followed, nearly all of a pack of fine deer hounds.
It may be easily imagined that the last outrage was not
passed over with indifference. The leisure time of every
day was devoted to their extermination, until the cold
of winter rendered them torpid, and buried them up in
the earth.

The following summer, as is naturally the case, the
swamp, from the intense heat, contracted in its dimensions;
a number of artificial ditches drained off the
water, and left the alligators little else to live in than mud,
which was about the consistency of good mortar: still
the alligators clung with singular tenacity to their native
homesteads, as if perfectly conscious that the coming
fall would bring them rain. While thus exposed,
a general attack was planned and carried into execution,
and nearly every alligator was destroyed. It was a fearful
and disgusting sight to see them rolling about in the
thick sediment, striking their immense jaws together in
the agony of death.

Dreadful to relate, the stench of these decaying bodies
in the hot sun, soon produced an unthought of evil.
Teams of oxen were used in vain to haul them away;
the progress of corruption under the influence of a tropical
climate made the attempt fruitless.

On the very edge of the swamp, with nothing exposed
but the head, lay one huge monster, evidently sixteen
or eighteen feet long; he had been wounded in the
melée, and made incapable of moving, and the heat had

actually baked the earth around his body as firmly as
if he was imbedded in cement. It was a cruel and singular
exhibition to see so much power and destructiveness
so helpless.

We amused ourselves in throwing various things
into his great cavernous mouth, which he would grind
up between his teeth. Seizing a large oak rail, we attempted
to run it down his throat, but it was impossible;
for he held it for a moment as firmly as if it had
been the bow of a ship, then with his jaws crushed and
ground it to fine splinters.

The old fellow, however, had his revenge; the dead
alligators were found more destructive than the living
ones, and the plantation for a season had to be abandoned.

In shooting the alligator, the bullet must hit just in
front of the fore legs, where the skin is most vulnerable;
it seldom penetrates in other parts of the body.

Certainty of aim, therefore, tells in alligator shooting,
as it does in every thing else connected, with
sporting.

Generally, the alligator, when wounded, retreats to
some obscure place; but if wounded in a bayou, where
the banks are steep, and not affording any hiding-places,
he makes considerable amusement in his convolutions in
the water, and in his efforts to avoid the pain of his
smarting wounds.

In shooting, the instant that you fire, the reptile

disappears, and you are for a few moments unable to
learn the extent of injury you have inflicted.

An excellent shot, who sent the load with almost
unerring certainty through the eye, made one at a huge
alligator, and, as usual, he disappeared, but almost instantly
rose again, spouting water from his nose, not
unlike a whale. A second ball, shot in his tail, sent
him down again, but he instantly rose and spouted:
this singular conduct prompted a bit of provocation, in
the way of a plentiful sprinkling of bits of wood, rattled
against his hide. The alligator lashed himself into a
fury; the blood started from his mouth; he beat the
water with his tail until he covered himself with spray,
but never sunk without instantly rising again.

In the course of the day he died and floated ashore;
and, on examination, it was found that the little valve
with which nature has provided the reptile, to close over
its nostrils when under water, had been cut off by the
first shot, and he was thus compelled to stay on the top
of the water to keep from being drowned.

We have heard of many since who have tried thus to
wound them, and although they have been hit in the
nose, yet they have been so crippled as to sink and die.

The alligator, when inhabiting places near plantations,
is particularly destructive on pigs and dogs, and
if you wish to shoot them, you can never fail to draw
them on the surface of the water, if you will make a dog
yell, or a pig squeal; and that too, in places where you

may have been fishing all day, without suspecting their
presence.

Herodotus mentions the catching of crocodiles in
the Nile, by baiting a hook with flesh, and then attracting
the reptile towards it by making a hog squeal.

The ancient Egyptian manner of killing the crocodile
is different from that of the present day, as powder
and ball have changed the manner of destruction; but
the fondness for pigs in the corcodile and alligator,
for more than two thousand years, remains the same.