Mildly Threatening

Those of you who have absolutely nothing better to do might want to check out the listing for alligators, found in the ‘Reptiles & Amphibians’ section of the Smithsonian National Zoological Park website. And when I say ‘absolutely nothing better to do,’ that includes rearranging your sock drawer and rotating the wheels on your lawn mower. Because you’d probably be better off not knowing what the Smithsonian has to say about alligators.

So, since you won’t look it up yourself, I’m going to tell you what it says. Under ‘Status,’ it says, “Because alligators will feed on almost anything, they pose a mild threat to humans.”

Yes. A ‘mild threat.’

Now, if I were to write a letter to the Smithsonian people, I would likely include a line or two about the definition of ‘mild threat.’ A mild threat is a threat to you. A serious threat is a threat to me.

But I’m not going to write to the Smithsonian, because I know they won’t listen to a nobody from Texas. They think they’ve got it all figured out up there in Washington, D.C., with their PhDs and their pocket protectors and their research grants. They never listen to real people about anything. Plus, there’s that restraining order.

Anyway, I only looked up the Smithsonian alligator thing because of an ABC Eyewitness News story sent to me by my research department a while back. It was about a fellow named Charles Price, who lives in Lansing, Illinois. Back in January, an appliance repairman was working on something in Chuck’s basement (probably an appliance, if I was to take a stab) and he noticed movement in a covered cage over in the corner. So he went to take a look.

Those of you who have ever watched a horror movie on television know what happened next. As the creepy music got louder and faster, and Mr. Maytag got closer to the cage, the tension built until, slowly putting out his hand and grasping the tarp, Mr. Maytag pulled it back and, with the creepy music almost deafening . . ., a cat jumped out and ran away.

Only it wasn’t a cat. It was an alligator, and they can’t jump, I don’t think, so it just sat there in its cage. So Mr. Maytag took some pictures and called someone official, and they came over and took away Chuck’s alligator, which had been living in his basement for 26 years.

Yes. Twenty-six years. That’s a long time to keep a potentially lethal creature locked up in a cage in your basement. Of course, ten minutes would be enough for me. Matter of fact, I don’t think I’d want an alligator in my basement for ten minutes. Even if I had a basement. Which I don’t.

Alligators aren’t endangered, and they aren’t extinct, which makes me wonder, you know, why not? But they are listed as threatened, even though there are plenty of them around. And when I say ‘plenty,’ I mean one. I really don’t think we need a lot, alligator-wise. Because a mild threat today could become a serious threat tomorrow, if I happen to take a wrong turn and end up in Florida. Or Louisiana. Or East Texas.

And the funny thing is that there are lots of alligators, and the only reason they’re listed as threatened is because they look a lot like crocodiles, which are endangered, and the people who don’t want the crocodiles to become extinct are afraid folks will kill all the crocodiles while killing alligators. These are people like those in the Smithsonian in Washington, D.C. If you’ll bother to look at your map, you’ll notice that D.C. is a long, long way from Florida, and Louisiana, and East Texas, where all the alligators are. Which is why those folks think alligators pose a ‘mild threat’ to humans.

The Smithsonian’s alligator page also offers some helpful tips, such as, “The easiest way to distinguish an alligator from a crocodile is by looking at its teeth. The large fourth tooth in the lower jaw of an alligator fits into a socket in the upper jaw and is not visible when the mouth is closed. This does not happen in crocodiles.”

Well, let me tell you something else that doesn’t happen in crocodiles. I don’t count their teeth; that’s what doesn’t happen. It also doesn’t happen in alligators, at least not while they’re alive—or dead. Because, you never know, you might not hear the creepy music.

So Chuck lost his pet alligator, which is really not such a Bad Thing, since I’m thinking he would have probably ended up with a Darwin Award sooner or later. Plus, he was charged with a misdemeanor and unlawful possession of an endangered species. And that’s strange, since alligators aren’t endangered, or even threatened, really. They’re only listed as threatened because of their resemblance to crocodiles, sort of a guilt by association thing.

And I still have no idea what the misdemeanor was. Unless maybe it was for exposing Mr. Maytag to the ‘mild threat’ of being eaten by an alligator . . .

Kendal Hemphill is an outdoor humor columnist and public speaker who can tell an alligator from a crocodile as often as necessary. Write to him at [email protected].