Beauty in Nature

This is a work of fiction. No real people, places or events were used. Copyright ã 2011 Plot Roach.

Beauty in Nature

By Plot Roach

Gene put the bait on the hook before hanging it an inch above the water. The rotting chicken smell would entice the alligator to jump for the bait and land the hook squarely in its gut if all went according to plan. Normally he would tie a brightly colored cloth around the tree trunk that the line was anchored to, but since he was hunting gator out of season, he put a mark on his map instead. Not that many police would be patrolling the waters of his backyard bijou, but he did not want to take the chance.

Twenty traps baited and three hours later, he turned the boat for home. He eyed the places he had baited and made a quick prayer to God and the spirits of the swamp that he and his family would not go hungry much longer. He lost his job down at the factory, and waited for the unemployment, his wife having given up her career three years ago to raise their twin boys. Money was tight, and the bills piled higher every day. They had to make due by cutting back on what they could, and getting creative to make ends meet whenever possible.

His father had taught him that not all food came from the supermarket. And as a child, he learned fishing, hunting frogs and even which snakes were poisonous and to be avoided at all cost while others were destined for the stewpot. But gator was another matter. Even hunted out of season, there were those that would pay a handsome dollar for both the meat and the hide, provided the animal caught was big enough.

Gene followed the advice of his father and grandfather before him, cutting himself on the hand and sending a few drops of blood into the water at each baited site in order to offer up thanks for the bounty that each line promised.

The following morning he checked his traps, and a gator had taken the bait in each one. He hunted alone, which was not the tradition among the usual hunters of these primordial beasts. One man usually held the line straight that anchored the gator while the other shot it in the head with a rifle. And while Gene felt it was not sporting at times, he doubted that the animal on the other end of the line would give him a second chance, should he slip into the water in front of some hungry brute.

So as he hunted alone, he depended on pulling the bait line with one hand as he aimed and shot with rifle with the other. It was hard work, and he was rewarded with nineteen of the heavily armored creatures ranging in size from six feet to twelve in a pile in his boat. He smiled with the miracle that had been bestowed upon him and aimed the boat for the last of the baited traps, thinking of all the bills that he could pay once he unloaded his catch. I am thankful for what I have been given here today, Lord. He thought. Just let me know what I can do in return for your bounty.

The last trap, the creature surfaced without a fuss, unlike its scaly brethren. And when its head hit the surface of the water, Gene gasped at its beauty. Most of the reptiles he had pulled up out of the water this day had been dark, with mottled hides. Some chewed up with clashes with others of their kind or been scarred from run ins with the blades of fishing boats. But this creature was truly exceptional in Gene’s opinion, for the green of its hide was highlighted by a crisscross of a gold patterning like sunlight shining down through the branches of the swamp trees. The creature held still, studying him as much as he studied it. His first thought was of just how much the thing’s hide would fetch at market. But he felt a chill up his spine, and knew what he should do. He had been blessed with nineteen other beasts whose death would more than pay the expenses he owed. He should let this beauty free.

Quickly, before he lost his nerve, he pulled his knife free from his belt and cut the creature loose, remembering too late that the thing still had a hook in its gut. He could not remember form his father’s teaching whether such a thing was fatal or if it could pass the hook through its digestive tract. By the time he made it to the edge of the swamp and unloaded his catch into the back of his truck, his mood had gone from elated to somber, now convinced that the creature would die because of his foolishness. He received high prices for his day’s work and drove home to hand the money to his wife. Upon seeing his mood, she asked him what had happened and she chastised him for letting the beast go free.

“It could have brought us more money than all the other hides you caught today.”

“Yes, but it was too beautiful kill.” He said.

“Be careful, husband.” she warned. “Isn’t nature filled with beautiful things that use beauty to their advantage?”

He nodded, and excused himself to sit out on the back porch. And while it was not the same solitude of the swamp, it let him reflect on the day’s events and on the words of his beloved wife. He sipped a cold beer and could not get his mind off of the golden scaled alligator. His thoughts seemed to make the memory so real it was like the creature was sitting in the water in front of him. But then the vision changed, and before him was a lovely woman, heavy of bosom, slim of waist and with dark hair displaying highlights of gold. She beckoned to him with open arms from the water even as her reptile eyes froze him in place. He felt an unnatural calm come over him and was drawn to her like a magnet. About to jump into the water after her, the vision was shattered by a gunshot. His wife, standing from the back porch had fired upon the creature, which now reverted to its alligator form.

He helped her drag the beast out of the water, where he took it to the back shed and quickly skinned it. She took the meat into the kitchen as he went to work, salting the hide until it could be properly tanned.

At the end of the night, as he sat down to the table with his wife and two sons, he took a bite of his dinner: deep fried alligator. He chewed slowly, savoring the taste as he thought about what she had looked like in the water. And he marveled at how such a creature that had survived millions of years, several mass extinctions and had more magic in its hide than he could ever imagine in a lifetime, succumbed to something as simple as a bullet before being rolled in flour and cooked for two and a half minutes in boiling vegetable oil.