HERNANDO TODAY (Florida) 19 August 06 Gator getters (Morgan C. Moeller)
Lake Rousseau: You can tell the size of an alligator by measuring the distance between the hump on his nose and his eyes.
That’s how Darrell Plank knew the gator looking at him from the water was a big ‘un.
On Thursday, three days into gator-hunting season, Plank and hunting buddy Jeff Varano had already caught eight gators — seven of which were between 8 and 11 feet long. This one promised to keep their record going.
Plank ran for his pole, equipped with a 5-inch long, triple-hook, then back to the shore. Varano grabbed the boom-box from inside their flat bottom boat and turned up the volume. The sounds of a baby alligator in distress — like a bad deejay scratching on vinyl — echoed across the otherwise silent water. The gators like rap music, Plank explained.
Plank cast his line while Varano ran to the boat — which was still sitting on the trailer — to get his line. The gator would be their first catch of the night, but getting him from the shore could be difficult, Plank warned. From the shore you’re stable; in a free-floating boat if the gator tries to run with the line he pulls you along with him.
Plank cast his line into the water. It appeared to hit the gator on top of its head. The second cast came up short.
“That’s a big gator,” Plank said, reeling the line back in. “You wanna see a hand full? If I can get my hook in that gator...”
Varano cast his line, equipped with an even bigger quadruple hook. The pole bowed toward the water as the gator pulled the line taut.
“Hold on! Let me get another hook in him,” Plank yelled.
His cast barely overshot the gator.
Varano’s pole looked like it could snap. He leaned back, using his large frame to get some leverage.
“Just hold what you got! Be patient with him,” Plank cautioned.
“How deep is this water?” Varano asked, face strained. “He’s gonna take my hook!”
And just like that the pole straightened. There was no gator pulling on the other end of the line.
“It’s ok,” Plank said. “It’s a big lake. There’s a lot of ‘em out there. Big boy, you better leave while you can run.”
The struggle between man and gator is one that Plank has played out countless times during his lifetime. His daddy taught him to hunt gators as a boy. For 35 years he’s been a wildlife trapper, and he’s a nuisance gator agent for the state.
Plank taught Varano how to trap, and now Varano is also a nuisance gator agent for the Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission. But this hunt was for sport.
Gator hunting season opened on August 15 and runs through November 1. The Wildlife Commission doled out 4,406 licenses this year, each good for two gators. On June 15, the commission opened sales on a first-come-first-serve basis via phone, internet, tax collector and sub-agent locations like Wal-Mart.
All 4,406 were gone within three-and-a-half hours. That’s because gator hunting has deep roots in Florida, said Harry Dutton, alligator management program coordinator with the Wildlife Commission. It’s simply part of the culture.
The agency determines the number of licenses they offer by taking a survey of alligator populations around the state, Dutton said. In 2000 and 2003 there was a significant jump in the number of gator permits available, in part because of program expansions and in part to level off populations in some areas, he said. Otherwise, the number of permits divvied up is pretty stable.
Of the 41 permits issued for Lake Rousseau, Plank got six, which means he can take 12 gators out of the lake. On Thursday night, he had already taken two, and he was looking to fill the rest of his quota with some big boys. He knew where at least one of them was hiding.
As darkness fell, Varano traced the shoreline from the boat with a giant spotlight searching for eyes glowing back at him. It’s easier to hunt in the cover of darkness, Plank explained. The spotlight blinds the gator while the guys move in for their kill.
But a blind gator isn’t an easy catch. Whether or not they actually get it in the boat is determined by luck. The hooks, though plentiful and sharp, don’t penetrate the gators’ tough hide, Plank said. You have to catch him just right — then pray he doesn’t wriggle free in the fight to reel him in.
A pair of eyes glowed back from Varano near the shoreline. It was another big one — Varano could tell by the green tint to the glow. With the trolling motor on to minimize noise as they approached, they crept closer to the gator.
“Shhh,” Plank said, signaling for silence. Just then his cell phone went off. The gator descended, escaping from view beneath the surface.
Varano scanned the shoreline, hopeful the giant would resurface. Nothing. He turned the spotlight toward the center of the lake. Another pair of eyes stared back.
Plank got close enough to cast and missed. The gator’s eyes slipped into the inky water.
“God damn it!” Plank cried in exasperation. “He didn’t get that big from being stupid. That gator’s probably 80 or 90 years old. I’ll be seeing him in my sleep.”
The pair patrolled the lake, abandoning designated channels to stalk their prey. Rain slapped their faces as they sped to the northern end of the lake in search of the hot spot where they hooked an 11-footer two nights earlier.
More than two hours went by. They still didn’t have a gator in the boat.
Plank wasn’t discouraged.
“You learn something new everyday,” he said. “They all act different. They’re like women — they all act different.”
Then, somewhere between 10 and 11 p.m., Plank got lucky. The hook caught just right. The rod bowed into an upside down U. The gator thrashed wildly. Plank struggled with the line, still sore from tussling with the six gators he caught the night before.
“Come on old man. Just a little bit,” Varano said.
Plank handed the rod over to Varano and kneeled by the side of the boat. His arm shot into the water and he grabbed the tail with his left hand. With his right he pinched the base of the gator’s neck.
Varanno grabbed black electrical tape looping it around the alligator’s mouth several times. They pulled the gator the rest of the way into the boat. The 10-footers can take more than two hours to get in the boat, Plank said. This one took just minutes.
“We’re not gonna keep that one are we,” Varano asked, sizing up the 6-foot reptile.
“Let’s see what else we get,” Plank said.
The 6-footer jerked his head angrily. Plank guessed the it was 8 or 9 years old. His hide, on a scale of one to four was a one, which fetches the best price at the processing plant. You can get up to $40 a foot for top grade hides, Plank said.
After taping its legs up behind its back, they scanned the shoreline for another. At 11 p.m. there was only one gator in the boat, but Varano and Plank weren’t ready to give up. They hunt until 30 minutes after dawn.
“That’s what it’s about,” Varano said. “The challenge.”
Gator getters