'GATOR AID

The Yuen Long crocodile has won the hearts of the people of Hong Kong. But let’s hope it remains single, chaste and shy. Otherwise, as the situation in Florida shows, when man and reptile compete for an ever-shrinking habitat the outcome is dire, reports Dan White.

Travelling in a pick-up truck just inches away from the jaws of a trussed but agitated alligator is disconcerting to say the least. Only minutes earlier, this 10-foot reptile tried to consume a horse and nearly pulled three strong men into a lake.

I have the feeling he could unzip the passenger compartment like a tin of sardines if he could only get free of the flimsy electrical tape binding his jaws.

Sunshine-bathed Florida is a beautiful place. But much of the state teems with these scary reptiles. They invade golf courses and municipal ponds. They lurk in the shady lakes of retirement homes and glide along ditches parallel to the main highways.

As their natural habitat in the watery wilderness of the Everglades is diminished by the encroachment of man, so the alligators - relics from the age of dinosaurs - encroach on the suburban habitats of the only predator they have to fear. That’s us.

For those unlucky enough to find a giant gator making itself at home in their back garden or swimming pool, there is only one answer. It is time to call Ricky and Lee Kramer. The arrival of this father and son team usually puts a dramatic end to the territorial ambitions of Florida's most toothy and unpredictable residents.

As an alligator catcher, licensed by the State of Florida's Game and Freshwater Fish Commission, Lee Kramer has been hauling giant, thrashing gators by their tails from puddles and ditches for 30 years. Over 5,000 of them to be exact. If there is an alligator that is deemed to be a threat to humans or animals, then Lee and Ricky are licensed to hunt it down and shoot it dead. They earn their money by selling the skin and flesh. Alligator is priced by the foot.

A self-confessed redneck, Lee's leathery features break into a sly grin as he talks about his job. "The ladies love the alligator-man, and truth be told, the alligator-man loves the alligator. It’s just a pity we got to shoot them in the head 'stead of lettin' 'em free. I truly do respect the alligator."

When we pull up at the curbside of a suburban home in a wealthy residential district, a hysterical and dangerously overweight resident approaches at speed. "He's bigger than a car and he just slipped back into the river. Bastard killed my dog."

Ricky and Lee look at each other with just the faintest hint of a smirk. As poor Fido's remains are hauled back from the murky deep and into a waiting bin-liner, Ricky and Lee scan the water for signs of the beast that did the deed. They silence the hysterical householder with an important snippet of information: alligators have better hearing than bats and if she carries on squawking, the alligator would soon be miles away with ear plugs in place and contemplating nurofen.

But this time Lee and Ricky seem to be in luck. A hundred yards out in the lake a pair of malevolent eyes and a scaly back break the placid surface of the water.

As the beast draws into range, a skillful game of expert marksmanship comes into play. Lee casts a line from his rod into the lake and over the alligator's back. As he winds the line in, the hook catches on the scaly skin of the reptile. Immediately the gator dives deep in an attempt to escape.

Now the real skill comes into play. In order to bring him in Ricky must cast a second line into the water and hook the fugitive again. This is done by guessing the position of the alligator under the water. The two men listen, wait and try to gauge the position of the alligator from the pulls on the single line that is already in place. After the eighth or ninth attempt at dragging a hook through the water and into the flesh of the animal Ricky feels tension and then a pull. He has hooked him.

The trick now is to let the panicked gator twist, turn, dive and move in an attempt to throw off his captors. The gator men will let him do this, giving him enough slack so that he won't break the lines. After half an hour or so the gator should have worn himself out and be short of air. Then it is time to reel him in.

Slowly, slowly they reel in. Despite his exhaustion, the gator exerts an incredible pull and both rods are bending like longbows. Slowly, slowly, the gator is dragged into the shallows. Lee prepares to jump in and grab his tail. Too late. This is one lucky gator. The second line has snapped, doubling the weight on the first line.

Given the choice of hanging on or giving some slack in order to start the whole casting process again, Lee goes for broke and hangs on. As Ricky casts again at short range, he is up against the clock. He misses and the gator takes his chance. Finding reserves of strength from somewhere, he thrashes and jerks. The remaining hook is worked loose and the giant gator plunges to safety. Lee and Ricky are tired, but resigned.

"Is he gonna come back?" asks the fat lady.

"Yep," replies Lee. "I been chasin' that gator for five years. This is the second time I've hooked him. Never been closer than this. The other bank is all swamp. He can come and go as he wants. You better watch out for the puppies if you are lookin' to get yourself a new dog. You got my number. You give us a call now if he shows his head around here again."

Leaving her pop-eyed with spent adrenaline we get back into the pick-up and are only 10 seconds out of her driveway before Lee and Ricky collapse in fits of uncontrollable, hysterical laughter. They have to stop the car until they recover.

"Bastard ate her dog!" howls Ricky.

"Jeez! I love the gator!" answers Lee.

The next call is just as bizarre. A gator has found its way into a pool at the end of a paddock in the grounds of a high society polo club. The gator has been behaving badly … you know the kind of thing.... snubbing the chairman's wife..... drooling on the canapes and taking a pop at a tethered horse.

Greeting us at the clubhouse is a man kitted out in jodhpurs and a cravat. " If this reptile so much as scratches one of my members I am finished," he enunciates in plummy tones.
" Yep........ It’s a small bit of water. I reckon that gator just took himself down a dead end. I think your members are gonna be fine," drawls Lee.

We approach the pond on tip-toes in order not to frighten away the culprit. It is there, static on the other side of the pond. Lee gently kneels at the banks. He cups his hands over his mouth and makes a strange croaking sound. It is the mating call of the alligator. It works. The interested gator glides towards Lee, giving Ricky the chance to cast and get a line on him. The gator dives, but Lee moves faster and is on his feet casting the second line. This is a shallow pond and it takes only two attempts to hook the reptile. The gator erupts in a frenzy of thrashing and squirming but soon tires. Lee and
Ricky start to reel him in.

As he nears the bank, Lee passes his rod to a local boy and wades into water roiling and boiling around his ankles. Leaning over the snapping jaws with a noose attached to a stick, he lassoes them shut before grabbing the gator by its thrashing tail and, with a yell of "got ya peckerhead!" yanks it onto dry land.

By this time Ricky has jumped on the reptile’s back, dodging its flailing tail to hold it steady as Lee tapes up its jaws with gaffer tape. With one quick movement the gator is lifted into the van, its tail still thrashing but making contact with nothing but air.
By now there is a small audience of Floridian high society watching events from a safe distance.
As the van pulls away a round of polite applause sends us on our way. The man in the jodhpurs looks relieved.

Half-an-hour later and a few miles down the road, the gator has recovered some of its strength and that’s when it starts banging against the side of the pick-up.

Weighing up the possibilities of the gator's escape I ask if the best thing to do is to heed oft-repeated advice and run in a zigzag pattern.

" Nope, that’s horse shit," replies Lee. "Most folks just zig when they should be zagging and run back right into the jaws of the gator. Best thing to do if you are bein' chased by a gator is just to run like hell."

Our last port of call is back to the suburbs to fish a gator out of a swimming pool. This is done with blasé efficiency in a matter of minutes. While the family dog barks at the reptile from behind the safety of the French windows, Ricky grabs the gator by the tail. This is a nippy customer and the gator twists on its own axis and tries to remove Ricky's left knee cap. Howling with laughter Ricky starts kicking his legs as the gator goes for each one in turn. He deftly slips the noose over its jaws and the fun is over.

As the sun goes down, Lee and Ricky take the day’s catch off to certain execution. I, for one, have seen enough to make sure that I give a wide birth to anything in Florida that resembles water. It's dangerous out there.

Dan White is a Bangkok-based Photo-journalist. His website is http://www.danwhite.org