#99 Ads, Alligators And Bears

Yes, terrible things are happening. I can’t stop that. All I can do is try to lift you up for five minutes.

Anne Morse Hambrock

Mar 10, 2025

Spring Break

Spring Break Stories - The Alligator

March is Spring Break season so I’m sharing a few stories from “Spring Breaks Past”.

Issue #96 brought you the beginning of our ill fated trip to Florida in 2005 - we now pick things up as the family heads back north:

Almost at the end of one of our wildest road trips ever, we are now preparing to camp in the heart of Florida’s Ocala National Forest at Alexander Springs.

A national forest populated, not only by your standard deer, squirrels, foxes and bats, but by bobcats, water snakes, rattlesnakes, wild boar, and a myriad of other lethal charmers.

Oh, and alligators.

Why are we tent camping in the midst of all the scary wildlife?

Because the husband’s family camped there every year when he was growing up and he has requested that this jaunt down memory lane be added to our itinerary.

I am trying to be a good sport.

After all, I mostly enjoy camping.

But it turns out I like Southeast Wisconsin camping.

Where the most frightening thing we might meet is a skunk. Or a dodgy racoon.

As we check into the campsite the perky ranger lady says with a laugh, “If you see any bears, don’t try to pet them.”

Bears?!

There are bears?!!

Hubby tries to calm me down – he has already spent the past month assuring me I don’t need to worry about the alligators.

Which has been a hard sell because I have been primed for maximum freakout by the well intentioned input of family and friends. Who want to be sure I know that the Florida alligator population of 2005 is robustly higher than when my husband’s family camped there in the 1970s.

And that alligators can run at speeds up to 35 miles per hour on land.

And spring up to 10 feet out of the water.

I realize their intentions are good.

But…

I do my best not to hyperventilate or panic the kids.

We set up the tent and my beloved takes everyone down to swim. He can’t wait for them to experience the crystal clear water of a natural spring.

I dawdle.

I can’t decide where I want to be least.

Waiting to be picked off by a bear in the woods or scooped from the shoreline by a giant toothy amphibian.

Was that a growl?

Shoreline it is.

All but the youngest are in the water by the time I arrive.

She runs to me joyfully.

“Daddy said not to tell you but there was a alligator!”

When I confront “daddy” with this little nugget, he assures me “it was just a tiny one.”

A passionately whispered discussion ensues where I remind the father of this adorable 5 1/2 year old that she is scrumptiously snack sized no matter how big the alligator might be.

His efforts to calm me are largely unsuccessful. We declare a truce, but I am, of course, still terrified. And desparately trying not to replay that scene from Madagasgar in my head.

You know the one.

This one.