I was asked earlier about the dumbest thing I've ever done. I don't really know how to classify all of the dumb things I've done. My brother and I would tie a sled to the back of a snowmobile with about 40' of rope and zip around the fields and over homemade ramps. I'd often jump 20 or so feet from the rafter beams upstairs in the barn to piles of straw - occasionally holding a pitchfork while doing it. I once had my 1984 Chevy Blazer up on two wheels (Bambi was even along for that one!) Heck, this one time, I even drove to Florida in July in a van repaired by a marginally trained baboon.
But I'm not sure where to put this next event on that list. As you can see from the title of this chapter, Bambi clearly ranks it at the top of her list. I mean, sure, there was an element of danger. What in life doesn't? But as I mentioned earlier, there were
clearly defined safety procedures and devices in place.
So what exactly am I talking up? Feeding time. And not the "toss a turkey dog to a tiny gator from behind a fence" feeding. This is big time. Chunks of raw steak. Big gators from the breeding marsh. The "
Line of Death".
This special feeding takes place at 1pm (check your local listings) and you need to sign up for it and pay (I think it was $10/person, but Bambi's dad paid for this, so I'm not sure) as soon as you get to the park because it fills up fast. 12:45 or so rolled around and we wandered over to the north end of the breeding marsh and found a fairly new shelter right up by the fence. We hung around for a bit as more people started to show up and eventually two Gatorland employees showed up with a clipboard and a wheelbarrow full of chunks of beef. The girl started checking people in while the guy walked right up to the shore and and started calling the gators. He was carrying a stick - probably an inch thick and 5 or 6 feet tall - which is started poking around in the bushes on either side of the feeding area. Because the gators you can see usually aren't the problem - it's the ones you can't that you need to be worried about.
It didn't take long before they started coming... and coming... and coming. As you can see from the picture above, there were dozens of them. Most in the 10-12 foot plus range. The guide - who was not named Bubba or Cletus (I think it was Mike) - explained that they get used to this feeding schedule and come when they're called. Several gators started coming up on land - one of which was getting a little too close. Mike took his big stick and starting tapping him on the head, right between the eyes, getting him to back up. All the while saying "Hurts, don't it? Hurts, don't it?" See, even when standing within jaw snapping range, it's OK to have sense of humor.
Mike did explain that these are, in fact, wild gators. And we would be in their territory. He then took his stick and drew a line in the sand, 5' from the closest alligator. This, he explained is the
Line of Death. If you only remember one thing he said during his introduction, make it be this: Do Not Cross the
Line of Death. The
Line of Death will always be 5 feet from the closest gator. If the gator moves up, the
Line gets redrawn up. If the gator moves back, the
Line moves back.
So, who's first?
Who do you think...
The rules were simple - put a plastic glove on your throwing hand, grab a piece of beef from the wheelbarrow, step up to the
Line of Death, throw the meat. Repeat 3 times.
Mike said to aim for the side of a gator's head, because they have that blind spot right in front of their faces. And for the most fun, aim between two gators and see if they fight for it. He said he has seen a small gator actually try to take a piece of meat out of the mouth of a large gator. It didn't end well for the small gator.
(I appologize for the lack of pictures of this. It's hard to walk to the
Line of Death, throw meat, and snap pictures at the same time.
Here we have a few gators trying to pick up meat that fell to the ground. It's raw - what do they care if it's also dirty?
If you look closely at the upper right, you'll see a piece of meat laying on an alligator's back. Eventually it will get picked off, much to the annoyment of the one that it's sitting on.
My kids approaching the
Line of Death. <sniff, sniff> Daddy's so proud.
After we threw our 3 pieces of meat, Mike told us that we
didn't just do the scariest thing we would do all day. No, walking up to the gators with raw meat in your hand would be a piece of cake compared to what we had to do next. Approach the
Line of Death,
turn around, and smile for a picture. (Yes, they will sell you a picture, but you can also take your own)
Note Bambi in the classic "Sprinter's Stance". She's not dumb - this was by choice.
We took a few other pictures with Grandma & Grandpa, then walked out of the feeding area and closed the gate behind us. Thus Bambi's "dumbest thing I've ever done" comes to an end.
Coming Up Next: You know, teasing the next chapter just doesn't make any sense after what we just did. We did some more fun stuff. Come back and read it.
I need to stay tuned for this. I also need to figure out how you figure in all of this.
It is not steak from the store it is road kill. 
