ALLIGATOR HUNTING.
At this point, a detailed account of an alligator hunt with the Seminoles may prove interesting to the huntsman who may scan these pages.
Some tourists hire the Indians who frequent civilization to guide them in hunts, but it is poor Lo’s idea to show the white man his hunting; and he will take him around and around, always keeping out of sight of game, with a cunning that would do credit to a Connecticut Yankee.
Possessing that talisman, friendship and confidence of the Seminole chiefs, our hunter arranged for his first alligator hunt. To simplify the account of the tenderfoot’s experience, we give it as related to the writer.
“Taking the little steamer Roseada at Kissimmee City, a two days’ride landed us at Basinger, where I was met by an ox-cart, driven and owned by the Seminoles. A ride of forty miles, slow but sure, took us to the Indian village. Here I was met by dogs, pickaninnies, squaws and braves. With time limited and eager for the hunt for big game, I rested but a few hours and then announced myself ready tohi-e-pus(go).
“In a cypress canoe, poled by Chief Tom Tiger Tail, we turned our boat toward the interior of the Everglades, and for three days traveled over as wild and weird a land as Stanley ever explored in Darkest Africa.
“Poling through water lilies, tall grass andoverhanging branches, frequently getting stuck in the shallow water and marsh, all gave more zest to the square mile than a hundred hunts in the North could.
“Reaching the objective point of our trip, the chief tied up the canoe, and after a hearty repast, we were ready for the alligator hunt. No game laws obstructed our progress, no sign boards read, ‘No Trespassing,’ and soon we were equipped for the night’s hunt.
“With a bullseye lantern attached to my cap, I took my seat in the bow, while Tiger Tail, standing in the stern, propelled the canoe with long, dextrous strokes. Reaching a deep bayou, where the Seminoles kill hundreds of alligators each year, I was directed to throw the light quietly over the water, and the presence of the saurian would be revealed by the reflection. Silently, slowly, our canoe cleaved the dark waters. Truly, the scene was worthy the pencil of a Doré. A moonless sky, a wild expanse of bleak water, a canoe propelled by a savage, splendid and careless in his unconscious grace, and as silent as the oarsman of the River Styx. Soon the dismal solitude was broken by our entrance into the alligator haunt. With stealthy glide through the still, dark water, we were soon aware of being near a very large ’gator—the two balls of fire shining in the darkness told the tale. Without a ripple the Indian glided his canoe within ten feet of the monster, and a shot between the eyes from a .38 Winchester blew the top of his head into small pieces. Before thereptile could flounder out of reach, the carcass was grabbed and pulled into the canoe by Tom Tiger, and the spinal cord was severed with an axe to prevent any future trouble.
TIGER TAIL, A REPRESENTATIVE SEMINOLEIn picturesque harmony with the land of the cocoanut.
TIGER TAIL, A REPRESENTATIVE SEMINOLEIn picturesque harmony with the land of the cocoanut.
In picturesque harmony with the land of the cocoanut.
“At the first approach of our light the alligators gazed at it in the most fatuous manner, allowing the boat to approach within a very close position; but after one of their number had been slain they commenced a vibrating roaring, playing see-saw with their heads and tails and slowly rolling forth their feelings in deep, thundering tones. To me, there seemed to be 500 alligators in that body of black water that night, and each and every one seemed to turn his burning eyes on my little searchlight—and they shone like stars. I could easily tell a big fellow by noticing if his glaring balls were close together or far apart. After killing four or five I called out ‘Enough!’ The picture was growing too gruesome. The quivering mass of reptiles in our canoe made me think longingly of home. ‘Ungah’ (all right) from the Indian reassured me, and the canoe was turned toward camp. During the evening the Indian chief had killed an eleven foot ’gator, and so lifeless did it seem when dragged into the canoe that it was not considered necessary to cut the neck and back. The extraordinary vitality of an alligator keeps it from dying for some time, the nerves often living for several hours after the head has been severed. Our canoe was loaded to the water’s edge, with the large saurian in the bottom. Presently a low breathing greetedmy ears; soon it grew louder, and a faint motion could be felt in the boat. Still I remained passive, the Indian poling through the deep, tortuous stream. I had instinctively drawn my feet up, when the great mouth, which was toward me, opened and began snapping angrily. His body began to writhe and twist and wriggle, which set all the other alligators in motion. The situation was growing critical and dangerous, when Captain Tom, perceiving the trouble, came to the rescue with his axe and none too soon, for the huge saurian began lashing his tail from side to side, and had the Indian been less skillful in handling the canoe we certainly would have been turned overboard. With the hideous cargo silenced, the Indian always cool and nerveless, looked up and with a humorous twinkle in his eye said, ‘White man ’fraidojus’ (heap).”