By John B. Chisum
Jeff Foxworthy once said, “As long as there is a ditch on the side of the road, no one is going hungry in Louisiana”. No truer words have ever been spoken. Crawfish, perch, turtles, bullfrogs, ducks all make their homes in our abundant drainage systems. Growing up as a kid, we would take a piece of kite string and tie one end to a stick and the other to a piece of bacon. Toss the bacon end into the water on a ditch bank and wait until you felt a slight tug. Jerk it out quickly and more than likely you have a crawfish hanging on to the bacon.
Armed with a trusty Benjamin pump pellet gun, we could slay a mess of bullfrogs while simultaneously repelling aggressive water moccasins. John J. Audubon was probably spinning in his grave as my friends and I stalked the local avian population. The late 70’s through the 1980’s was a glorious time to be a kid in rural America.
Gator Paradise
Louisiana has always had a healthy alligator population since before de Soto died and was stuffed in a log for burial somewhere in present day Catahoula Parish. In the 80’s, gators were not rare in northern Louisiana, but they were nowhere near as common as they are today.
One of my childhood friends lived about five miles outside of the sprawling metropolis of Jonesville, Louisiana. His house was surrounded by woods and soybean fields, which all had rather large drainage canals. It was with great consternation that one day there was the sighting of an immense gator in one of these canals. News of the gator spread. The local population found it quite unacceptable for the monster to be in such close proximity to a family with four young children. In churches, at ballgames, around the coffee pot in the pharmacy, plans were hatched to deal with the “alligator problem.”
One solution that was implemented was to chum the water in the canal with chicken livers and then stake a dog on the bank. A hunter would sit in a nearby blind waiting for the alligator to come claim an easy meal. Apparently, it was well known among the local populace that canines were the choice meal of crocodilians. Fortunately for the poor mutt this method was not as successful as Jim Corbet’s use of goats to attract leopards and tigers. After a few days of no success this method was abandoned.
Gator Safari: A Redneck Shikar
The next tactic that was tried harkened back to the hunters’ Anglo-Saxon roots. These descendants of Scots-Irish immigrants figured that a drive with beaters like a traditional English grouse hunt might do the trick. A gill net was stretched across the canal. With great fanfare, men and boys started making as much noise as possible, making their way to converge on the net. Imagine 20-plus rednecks banging pots and pans, trying to push an alligator like a tiger to a howdah. Alas, it was all for naught. No alligator was sighted that day.
In the end justice was served. My friend’s great uncle spotted the gator while driving a tractor in the field. His great uncle was an extraordinary gentleman. He was a world war two veteran. He was also a Marine who had survived the Bataan Death March. This man had faced and conquered far worse monsters than this prehistoric reptile. Using a lever-action Winchester chambered in .22 magnum, he dispatched the gator with one round between the eyes, finally solving the community’s “alligator problem.”
The gator measured right at 10 feet. Though not a record, especially by todays’ standards, at the time it was chilling to the community because of its close proximity to children and pets. It was definitely big news in our sleepy little town.
