PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Outside Arcadia, FL, there is a rouge campground. I went there for spring break while in school, so basically we drove till we dropped, then there we were. We were two couples and two dogs; the site was aside a river. We were there a week. I spent several hours on the bank drawing, some sketches have water splashes on them from the doggie-play and in-and-out-of-the-water shaking

One day, everyone else was out shopping, the dogs and I were alone. The thought crossed my mind to take a dip and play with the dogs, this idea evolved into the three of us taking a wet hike down the river. I call this a river, though Floridian standards are lax on this count; the water was three to six feet deep, at most forty feet wide, tributary to Peace river.

Wearing sneakers and jeans, no shirt, I got in the water and went down the center. Mostly, I could walk and use my hands to swish along. Once or twice I swam a little, and once had to climb over brush and trees that had collected, piling where the water narrowed. The dogs went from shore to shore, chasing mystery scents for awhile, then crossing to the other side. I’m not sure whether the human or dogs were having more fun, this went on for about a quarter mile or 30 minutes, whichever comes first.

When I found a good point of departure to start walking back to the camp, I had one of those experiences central to survival, i.e., something was going on, I was directly involved, and I had no idea what it was.

The dogs and I had been on adventures in many places, and I always paid attention to them. In this case, the two of them were a few feet away, panting and dripping; they were content and facing the same direction, nothing seemed wrong or indicated trouble. Then, I noticed a noise some distance away, and as I focused in on the source of it, I realized there was someone yelling loudly. It was a man, maybe a football field away, not only was he yelling loudly, he was running full tilt right toward us.

I didn’t really know what to do, so I waited. As he got closer, I could hear him saying;
“YOU’RE STUPID!” And some other things.

While this was striking in its own way, I really did wonder what I might’ve done. Did I trespass? Was I in some kind of trouble? He finally made it there, a chubby guy who’d just run a hundred yard sprint, he couldn’t do anything but breathe while the dogs checked him out. As I walked to him, he eeked out the word ‘alligators,’ and I immediately realized what had happened. I had just gone into alligator habitat with some of their favorite food. What sunk in to me was an underwater vision of dog-paddling doggie feet back and forth, and me climbing over the brushpile, reptilian eyes upon us. Gulp. Perhaps there weren’t any that day, or the brazen behavior of the human splashing and walking directly through the water was off-putting, but that wonderfully bright adventure may have had a different color on another day.

After he railed me out, I thanked him and headed back (on land) with the dogs, everything was fine. When the others returned, I told them what we’d done, though I skipped the alligator part till we were driving home. Another thing that happened, or didn’t happen, I never sat on that riverbank again.