Gator Hunting

I spent last week alligator hunting in Louisiana with Lance Nacio. I met Lance during the oil spill when I interviewed him for the Environmental Defense Fund. He's a shrimp fisherman from a Cajun family who have lived in the coastal area for generations. The 6000 acres of land that Lance's grandfather originally leased from an oil company has been split up amongst his descendants. Alligator hunting tags are dispensed according to how much land you own, and this year, Lance, who owns 2300 acres was given 43 tags. Hunting season begins in late-August and lasts about a month.

The first day of hunting, we were accompanied by Lance's 11-year old daughter, Savanna. She had been begging Lance to take her for years, and this year he finally decided she was ready. It was her second day of hunting and she proved to be a brave young woman eager to be as helpful as possible to her father. We woke up at 4:30 A.M. and loaded up a bucket of raw chicken for the hooks and headed out on Lance's truck in the predawn darkness. We were attacked by ferocious mosquitoes at the dock but as we entered into the marsh, we were greeted by the slowly rising sun that cast a purple light on the morning mist.

Lance had set 70 lines around his property. Each day until he has caught his limit, Lance makes the rounds to check his lines. As he approached our first catch of the day, I felt myself tense up. I had never been hunting before, and had never seen an animal get shot. I held my breath as the shot from the 17 caliber handgun rang out loudly across the otherwise quiet and peaceful marsh. After shooting the alligator a second time "for insurance" Lance hauled it onto the boat and covered it with a blanket to keep the sun off its precious hide.

We continued on for about six hours, collecting nine alligators in all that day - the biggest one being almost eleven feet long. Afterwards, we met up with his uncle and friend, who had also just returned from hunting on an adjoining property. Lance's uncle Albert, who is 74 years old is a tall and gangly man with a sweet smile. He has been hunting for years with a distant relative, Edward, who is also in his seventies. The three men gathered around and talked excitedly about the day in a mixture of French and English before loading the alligators up in the truck to take to a buyer in town.

I love this culture. Cajun, Southern, Louisianan - whatever you want to call it. The people are warm and so connected to the earth. These are people who have been living in harmony with nature for generations and appreciate what it has to offer; hunting and trapping according to the season to feed their families. Most of them are not rich and openly talk about the fact that "money is not everything." It's not hard to see what they value most - families, friendships, the freedom of being out there in nature. And because of these things, I feel more determined than ever about working to tell the story of land loss - so that these people can go on living this way, the way they love to live.