Are Alligators Scarier than Bears?

What is the scariest animal in the United States? Personally, I’m most scared of grizzly bears. When we traveled to Florida, however, I felt a sizable amount of anxiety about encountering alligators. They’re basically dinosaurs, after all! I found out later that Florida also has giant invasive snakes, black bears, and panthers. That discovery sure didn’t help my anxiety much! As we journeyed into the swamps, however, I soon learned there was one more creature to fear…

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Featured photos: https://photos.app.goo.gl/U9NCwdX2Hrx8DT766

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November 7th, 2024 - Florida Day 2

“Come here, sweetie! Would you like some Subway?”

The Southern drawl was unmistakable, a surefire sign that we had journeyed out of Ohio. I found my Yankee eyes drawn to the speaker. I’ve always loved a Southern accent, probably because it reminds me of my Kentucky relatives. The man was thin, with a weathered face that had endured years of Florida sun. He wore a jacket to ward off the damp November chill. In his hands, a white Subway bag swung cheerfully. 

“I brought you a chicken teriyaki sub. Your favorite!” he drawled, a smile in his voice. 

I smiled too. How sweet. He must have bought his wife some lunch! The crinkle of a paper wrapper filled the silence between the group of us huddled under the pavilion. It had started to rain while we waited for our airboat tour. We, with the rest of our tour group, were waiting it out the best we could. We didn’t talk much, as most were too focused on staying warm and dry. The paper wrapper crunched as it was shoved into the plastic Subway bag. A moment later, a surprisingly wet plop followed. We looked over just in time to watch the man hurl another section of the sub sandwich into the murky brown lake in front of us. A set of reptilian jaws burst from the depths to gobble up the sandwich. 

“Awww there you go, honey! Good stuff, isn’t it?” The man turned to look at us as we gaped. “Chicken is her favorite!” he exclaimed. 

‘She’ was a scaly alligator emerging from the lake. She was big by my standards, at least eight feet long. She dragged herself ashore with squat, powerful legs and looked up at our pavilion expectantly. The southern man cooed at her in admiration.

“Good morning, sweetie! Did you like your sandwich? I’ve only got one more piece and then the rest of this is trash.” He rattled the empty plastic bag. “Can’t feed you this. It’s not good for you. No, honey, it’s not!”

He tossed the last section of the chicken teriyaki sub down to her, where her jaws closed around it with a snap. Her reptilian lips curled up as if she were smiling. Her eyes were big and bright. The thought occurred to me like a flash. She was begging! The alligator, just like our cute corgi at home, was begging for food! 

The man leaned over the railing in adoration. “Awww, you’re so cute. That’s all I have for you, honey. I’ll see you tomorrow!”

And with that, he wadded up the plastic bag and walked out into the rain. Casual, as if it was normal to feed alligators Subway. Totally normal.

I’ve heard stories about Florida people. Every month, it seems there’s some new crazy story like “Wanted Florida Woman Found Hiding in Couch” or “Florida Man Robs Wendy’s with Alligator” (true stories, look them up!). We were already discovering that Florida people are not good drivers. The traffic was atrocious and nobody used turn signals. But, bad traffic can happen anywhere. Buying a chicken teriyaki sub to feed to your favorite alligator? That felt certifiably Florida.

Experiencing such a Florida scene made us simultaneously excited and cautious about our first full day in the state. What else were we bound to encounter? Would a drunk guy ride a Segway into traffic? Would we see a dude driving around with a clown mannequin and a live grenade? (I’m not making these up!) 

We began our day with an airboat ride through the mangrove swamp, which, yes, did feel very Florida. Dark clouds billowed overhead, threatening another downpour. Mangrove trees thrust fingerlike roots into murky water, their white, stiltlike aerial roots resembling a tangled mess of bones. A lone alligator slipped silkily through the water, disappearing into the depth of shadows. It would have been a spooky place if our tour guide wasn’t so passionate about it. Through his eyes, we saw the mangroves as a wonderful place, a crucial ecosystem for the best parts of Florida. The imposing alligators, which I feared, were skittish around humans. The chilly air made them lethargic, so they were practically harmless by our tour guide’s estimation. “The only time you should fear an alligator,” he explained, “is during mating season.” His eyes got a little rounder. “During mating season, the males get territorial. You need to stay out of their territory, or else!”

As our airboat whipped and skidded across the water in the mangrove swamp, I found it growing on me. The trees had a sort of elegance to them. They lined the watery channels with organic precision. They joined leafy hands above our heads, forming a green canopy that filtered the weak sunlight into dappled spots on the water’s surface. Our boat whizzed along the channels, the powerful fan pushing us through the shallow spots. As our tour was nearing its end, the clouds let loose. We got absolutely drenched! It was a warm rain, thankfully, and the speed of our boat had us drying quickly. As our soggy jackets flapped in the wind, we found ourselves overcome with laughter. What a perfectly Floridian experience! 

We had grown to appreciate the Florida landscape so much that we spent the rest of the day seeking it out. We went to an alligator sanctuary next (yes, Floridians love their alligators so much that they build sanctuaries for them). We watched a man wade into a pool with an alligator to plop ball caps on the gator’s head. As he did so, he gave an instructional speech about alligator safety. We surmised this was a perfect example of “do as I say, not as I do.” We held a baby alligator (who was really cute), observed captive crocodiles (who were not at all cute), and saw many, many alligators. I’ve never imagined so many reptiles in one place. They lounged in the grass, paddled through the ponds, stared at us with eyes just above the waterline. We took another airboat ride, where we motored right next to a big ole alligator in the mangroves. He looked at us with disdain before swinging his powerful tail around to paddle away. The reptile I had previously feared couldn’t care a bit about us. What a relief!

To wrap up our day, we took a ride in a swamp buggy. I can’t fathom why I didn’t take a picture of the vehicle, because it was the strangest thing I’ve ever seen! It was as if someone had taken the frame of a school bus, cut the top off, and mounted monster truck wheels on it. The result was a tall, open-air platform with benches, a railing, and a steering wheel sticking up out of the floor. Our tour guide was a young local guy who was as Florida as you could get. His hair was sunbleached blond, his attitude carefree, and his experience with danger was alarmingly casual. As our monster truck school bus lurched through the swamp, he told us about how he and his buddies liked to drive swamp buggies out to the swamp to go drinking on the weekends. One weekend, their buggy broke down. As any Floridian would do, they grabbed the booze and decided to make their way back on foot. According to him, they ended up spending an entire day wandering around the soggy marshlands, beer in hand. The prospect of being stranded in gator country terrified me. He spoke as cheerfully as if it was an amusement park visit!

The bane of this man’s existence was boa constrictors. Any Floridian will tell you that their state is overrun with boas because too many people released their pets into the wild when they got too large to keep. Tropical snakes in a tropical state survive very well, so the boas bred and reproduced. Within a few years, the local population of small birds and mammals had plummeted. The snake problem got so out of hand that Florida even offered bounties for each snake captured or killed. Florida was forced to cease the incentive program after some “hunters” were caught buying boas, releasing them, then turning them in for the money. Our tour guide, a true Florida patriot, had declared a personal war on boa constrictors. He regaled us with a tale about his own victory against a boa. Once on a buggy tour, a young boy had pointed a small finger out into the thick Florida forest.

“Look at that big snake!” the boy had cried.

Our tour guide stopped the buggy with a lurch. “Where?” he had demanded.

He followed the boy’s finger to the dappled brown snake creeping along the ground near the buggy path. Without hesitation, our tour guide flung himself out of the buggy. Scrambling through the mud, he reached the giant snake in a few scant seconds. Without hesitation, our tour guide grabbed the predatory reptile by its thick tail, flung it around, and smacked its skull against a tree. Having killed his sworn enemy, our tour guide allegedly dragged the dead snake back up into the buggy and commenced his tour. As one does.

After such a full day in Florida, I concluded that I had little to fear when it came to Florida alligators, snakes, bears, or panthers. Instead, a new fear replaced it. I think I’m scared of Florida people!