The Gator Whisperer

While attending the University of Florida I lived in an apartment just across the road from Lake Alice. The lake is a nature preserve, a wildlife refuge at the edge of the campus, peaceful and inviting in every respect but one; it is filled with large, menacing alligators.

Students congregate along its shore in the afternoon to feed the gators, hoping to catch a glimpse of the lake’s most celebrated resident, Big Albert. He is big, estimated to be over sixteen feet in length. One gator looks like another but Big Albert is easily recognized when he makes his occasional appearance; he has only one eye. The other is clouded like a pearl-colored aggie. When he breaks the surface and locks you in his glassy one-eyed stare your chest turns cold with fear. You experience an epiphany; your role in his world is that of a tasty meal, nothing more.

Another celebrity stalks Lake Alice, not a resident but a frequent visitor. He arrives just before dusk on a rusted bicycle, dressed in cut-off jeans and tee shirt. On his head is a white painted army helmet; scrawled across the front in hand-printed letters "GATORMAN." He lays his bike on the bank and wades slowly into the lake among the gathering reptiles, lightly stroking their rough hide as they drift within his reach. When the water reaches his chest he stands with his back to the shore, speaking in a voice too soft to be heard clearly.

No one seems to know just who he is.

“He is a biologist who never left the campus after graduating.”

“He is a lunatic.”

“He is clairvoyant and communicates with animals.”

He is fearless; there is no doubt of that. He shares the lake with beasts that could snatch him in their jaws and drown him in a moment, twisting rapidly in a death roll beneath the surface. He doesn’t appease them with food; I have never seen him feed the animals. He simply stands still in the chest-deep water, gently stroking any gator that moves in close, all the while speaking under his breath.

I don’t understand their relationship but the Gatorman and Big Albert seem connected in some mysterious way. Whenever the man enters the water the giant gator appears within minutes. The other alligators acknowledge his arrival by moving away, hanging still in the water several yards from the man. As they retreat, the one-eyed giant closes in until he floats directly in front of the intruder. The man never reaches out to stroke this gator. They remain motionless, staring at each other in silence. I sense that they share a guarded self-respect for each other.

I wonder, do these two share some mysterious past? Is their mutual respect born of some past battle between them? Could the Gatorman explain the giant gator’s blinded eye? Might he himself hide angry scars beneath his tee shirt? I cannot answer, neither can I fathom what would compel a man to repeatedly face death. Certainly he finds some fulfillment in these eerie meetings but it is a personal one only he can know.

The encounter always closes in the same way just before the sun sets, ending the curious drama for another day. Big Albert slowly disappears beneath the lake. The Gatorman continues to watch the final glow of sunset then emerges and disappears on his bicycle.

You can witness this spectacle for yourself. Wander down to Lake Alice half an hour before sunset, where Village Drive ends at Museum Road. If a bicyclist in a white army helmet descends the hill from the direction of the law school, prepare to meet a legend.