Gator leaves no time for ‘I told you so’

Caleb was ahead of us in the Everglades, stopped along the Shark Valley Trail to photograph something we could not yet see.

Judging by the number of alligators we had spotted and heard grunting in the saw grass, it was easy to imagine what filled his viewfinder.

When we pulled up beside him, we could see the jumbo gator across the narrow canal, sunning atop the pinnacle rock. Its mouth was wide open, exposing the same kind of teeth that starred in “Jurassic Park.”

“What are you going to do when he comes after you?” I asked my son.

He grinned, pulled out a pocket knife and said something about wrestling alligators.

“What’s your Plan B?” I asked.

“Ah, Dad,” he answered. “That big old gator is too lazy to move.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” I said.

About that time the big old lazy gator slid silently into the brackish water and swam directly toward us.

Usually I love it when I’m right. This is especially true when it comes to teenagers.

I try to never say “I told you so,” but I’m not above thinking it so loudly that everyone in the room can hear.

As the official state reptile of Florida closed in, however, I was preoccupied.

The words of Cousin Paul — a regular Everglades patron from Miami — echoed through our ears.

“Gators can run 30 mph.”

All of us, including Cousin Paul, jumped on our bikes and sped away. We rode toward the observation tower, which jutted out of the swamp a few miles ahead.

It was still the dry season, so the alligators were congregating in the shallow pool below the tower. They seemed to be everywhere.

From atop the tower, we took a Gatorade break.

As 11-year-old Henry started counting the creatures below, Cousin Paul told us alligator tales.

One story involves the night that he and a friend went exploring on foot through the Everglades. They got tired and took a break.

After a few minutes of respite they started hearing rustling in the dark.

Cousin Paul pointed his flashlight to the right.

Alligator eyes.

He pointed to the left.

More eyes.

He pointed ahead.

Still more eyes.

He pointed behind.

Eyes, eyes, eyes!

They decided to leave.

Quickly.

We looked out below the tower again as Henry finished counting.

“Sixty-four!” he announced.

I’m glad he was counting by the light of day.

Scott Morris is managing editor.