Today, we walked nature trails in a beautiful park. I realized that even the white gravel trails held beauty since sunlight flickered off of some of the rocks. Huge birds landed gracefully on wispy branches, fanning out their wings, looking regal as nature’s Batman symbol. Small, juvenile ducks pedaled vigorously under the wate while gliding along the surface. Squirrels bounded across the grass, enjoying the beautiful, blue skies and mild temperatures.
And then there was the crocodile. Make that three crocodiles. The first one — let’s call him Lou — rested his chin on the surface of the water, his forehead and eyes barely peeking up. He stared at the humans who dared to stand within 10 feet of him, taking his picture as if he were a cute, furry little bunny. Stupid humans.
As we continued along the trail, we saw two other crocodiles swimming effortlessly away. The second one — we’ll call her Lorraine — dove like a dolphin into the depths while the other — we’ll call him Henry — stayed just visible. That’s when we noticed that there appeared to be another croc right behind Henry until we realized it was his tail.
We’ve never seen one that long, that huge. It was quite eerie and a bit scary. Henry turned around, swimming in our direction, staring straight at us. I imagined him swallowing me whole. I suddenly saw my legs dangling out, kicking frantically, from his mouth. Luckily, Henry turned and headed toward a bank where several birds stood. Stupid birds. He stopped about 20 feet from the bank and waited, his eyes riveting on them.
We did not wait for what might soon be the fate of one or more of the birds, what was sure to be Henry’s dinner.