Holla Bend National Wildlife Refuge, on the Arkansas River not far from Russellville, isn’t the kind of place where I’d normally expect to spot an alligator. But as I drove along the refuge’s winding auto tour route, I pulled over at a scenic overlook on the elevated roadway and caught sight of one, resting motionless in the still waters below.
I had seen gators before—in Florida and Louisiana. But this was the first I had seen in Arkansas. I watched it through my binoculars for several minutes. It looked content, its mouth falling naturally into a puckish smile, the great body buoyed by the river lake’s tannin-stained water. Its knobby back reminded me of those papier-mâché maps of the Ozarks that children make in school. The water, stained amber by tannins, shimmered under the afternoon sun, reflecting the stillness of the predator.
The scene felt almost too quiet, the stillness wrapping around the water like a blanket, until a movement to one side caught my eye. Three young raccoons scampered into the scene, grabbling for food in the shallow edges of the pool. Upon their appearance, the alligator began an almost-imperceptible stalk. It moved toward the kits like nothing more than a harmless log pushed by a scant breeze, moved closer and closer—slowly, slowly—until predator and prey were mere inches apart. My pulse quickened, and I found myself holding my breath, as if I, too, were part of the scene, hoping desperately for the raccoons’ escape.
Suddenly, the ‘gator lunged, mouth agape, the water around it erupting in a sudden deluge. In a breath, three raccoons disappeared—two in the woods, one down the gullet of the wolfish reptile.
As things settled down, I noticed again the alligator’s mouth curved in that familiar reptilian smile. Satiated for the moment, the crocodilian seemed to grin a smug grin.
Perhaps they have something to be smug about. After all, alligators witnessed the extinction of dinosaurs and Neanderthals. They are a thousand times more ancient than human beings.
As I drove away, the image of the raccoons lingered for a long time, a reminder that in this raw, untamed wilderness, the boundaries between life and death are as thin as a breath.
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