The Merritt Island National Wildlife Refuge is a
140,000-acre,
federally-owned property that actually includes the Kennedy Space
Center. John, Carol and I took a drive on
Black Point
Drive, which is the main road through the Refuge and a great place to
view
wildlife from your car.
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While visiting the Refuge we also scoped out some
potential
future hikes, eventually deciding to come back and try the 5-mile
Cruikshank
loop trail. The trail was again pretty
easily traversed and flat—I probably don’t need to repeat that about
Florida
hikes as they pretty much all are flat.
The day was warm, but not overly hot which was good because
there isn’t
a whole lot of shade on the trail.
Along the way, we saw lots of birds and other
wildlife as
well as some vanquished prey of the birds, like horseshoe crabs. Apparently, the birds grab the crabs, then
fly up high enough so they when they drop the crabs they’ll crack open,
thus
opening the seafood buffet.
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Birds we saw walking the Cruikshank Trail and an unfortunate horseshoe crab that might have been dinner for one of these birds |
One odd thing we saw was a bunch of dead jellyfish. We never did get a good explanation as to
what might have killed them.
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Dead jellyfish in a pool along the Cruikshank Trail
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So we were maybe a quarter mile or so from finishing the
loop when we saw the guy in the picture (below right) blocking the path. You might not be able to tell from the
picture but, the alligator’s head was close to the water on one side and his
tail extended nearly to the edge of the marsh on the other side, so there
wasn’t a whole lot of room to get around him (or her).
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Taking a break at a shelter about a half mile from the end of the trail
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Gator blocking our path near the end of the trail |
We waited a little bit and tried to figure out what to
do. John suggested turning around and
retracing the entire 5-mile hike, returning to where we started. I didn’t like that idea, as I felt fortunate
to make the first 5 miles. Besides,
who’s to say the gator wouldn’t get sick of this spot and move over to the
start of the trail and block our return path there.
I thought maybe we could throw something into the water and
get him to chase it, kind of like a dog would chase a stick. We decided not to do that, realizing you
couldn’t necessarily expect a wild animal to behave like a domesticated
dog. Or worse, maybe the gator would
recognize that we threw something at him, get pissed and run right for us.
Ultimately, John bravely and carefully stepped into the high
grass, then over our boy’s tail and on to safety. After that, I had no choice but to follow him,
after which we both moved swiftly and quietly away. Of course, John couldn’t resist getting one
more picture of the gator from the front (he seems to be saying “I’ll get you
next time”).
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Gator looking back at us after we stepped over him (or her)
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I was actually pretty sure we’d be okay because, years ago,
I remember seeing a professional golfer on TV come upon an alligator in the
fairway. The golfer simply tapped the
gator’s tail, causing the gator to slip away into the water. Doing research after we got home, I found that
neither the golfer’s approach nor our actual and contemplated actions are the
advisable way to deal with a gator who is blocking your trail. What you’re supposed to do is sit a safe
distance away and wait for him (or her) to move out of the way--whenever that
may be. Apparently, that’s why you’re
supposed to bring stuff to eat and drink and maybe something to read when you
go on a hike.
In any case, we survived our gator encounter without
incident and happily took some triumphant pictures at the trail’s end.
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