As a girl, I often woke up to the sound of roosters crowing in the backyard. But now as a retired adult I live in a “gatored” community. Until you’ve heard the early morning roar of alligators in your own backyard you don’t realize how unsettling a sound can be. Nope, I don’t live in a “gated” community, but I feel safe just the same.
Why, do you ask? Because of my “neighbors”—fearsome, four-legged, toothsome bunch of reptiles. They have seasonal habits and a “don’t mess with me” attitude. We get along fine. I don’t bother them, and I pray they won’t bother me.
I respect daddy gators, but I respect mama gators even more. I learned my lesson five years ago today. We were moving into our new home in Burnt Store Lakes, and a total of 16 alligators displayed their version of Welcome Wagon. It was a mama and her 15 little ones. Later in the week, I heard my first roar. My mouth went dry. Life is certainly different in Florida.
But I sit and enjoy the sights and sounds while I live in harmony here on my lanai.
