Our Fearless Guide
Does he have a gun under that loose clothing? I was thinking that they might pack heat just in case things get out of hand. Or, somebody’s hand gets into those things. Whatever the case, he certainly knows these waters. I asked him if he comes out here at night and he said yes. He comes here “to go froggin”. “The big bullfrogs?” I asked. “Yes”, he said. He said that they marinate the legs in hot sauce, bread them and then fry them. He really likes to eat them that way.
But, once you pour hot sauce on something can you really taste what you are eating? The first time I had frog legs was at René’s Bistro another extinct New Orleans restaurant. So many good ones became extinct after Hurricane Katrina. The legs at René’s was the Plat du Jour on that Ash Wednesday. Plump, white, and delicate they were. Sort of like me. And they tasted nothing like chicken! We had escargot for the appetizer.
I also remarked that it would be so easy to get lost in here because everything looks the same and landmarks are always changing. Steve said, “No. I never get lost. You would though.” Yeah, I would. Somebody like him is the inspiration for Credence Clearwater Revival’s song “Born on the Bayou”.
Swamp Fauna
Pigs, deer, and nutria live out here. And the odd cow. I looked at the landscape and tried to imagine them moving around. Steve said they are all good swimmers. They would have to be.
Riding back on the boat, an Osprey or hawk flew right towards us with a hysterical fish in its mouth. Just as the big bird flew over our heads the fish made a break for it and landed in the water right beside Moe. A drop of water landed on my cheek from the falling fish. The fight for survival was on full display right before our very eyes.
Airboats in the Swamp
Airboat travel is lots of fun. It was the first time for me. We were on the small boat tour so we had the 6-seater boat all to ourselves. There were 5 of us. We flew through the long grass, skidded around non-existent corners, and slid over long patches of mud. We were provided with protective ear covering because the motor is so loud. When we first boarded, Steve said that there are life jackets under the seats in case he hits a log or gator or something which he said happens a lot. “Well, should we put ’em on?!” I exclaimed. “No,” he said. I just looked at him. Then it dawned on me that if we were thrown into the swamp, the least of our worries would be drowning.
Sleepin’ with the Fishes (or in the Gators)
“The mafia used to own this land,” said Steve. Oh, perfect. Just perfect. I said, “You mean if the police dredge this swamp they’ll find bodies?!” I walked right through that door. Steve, cool as a cucumber on a sweltering, summer swamp night and with great satisfaction said, “No. It takes 30 days for a gator to consume your body bones and all.” The air became still. Everyone let that sink in. Such a sobering thought. I think it might be time for a Sazerac when we get back to the Big Easy.
By the way, this is how I like my gators: in our local zoo
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