Hunter’s Journal: September 2016

By Daniel Carreker

Sunset on Friday, Aug. 14, 2015 found me and my good friend, Nathan Mason, patrolling a Houston County body of water in search of a big alligator we had seen a few days earlier. I had drawn a coveted Georgia alligator tag, and the gator we had scouted was one well worth using my tag on.  

We looked for this gator well into the early hours, but he was nowhere to be found. This was the only night Nathan could hunt during the opening weekend, but he let me use his 16-foot jonboat to give it another try the following night.

Sunset on Saturday, Aug. 15 once again found me looking for a Georgia alligator, but this time I was in the boat with my 13-year-old son, Gabe, on a different body of water. We decided to head south to a section of the Flint River north of Lake Blackshear. We had scouted this area in the past, so we knew it was home to some big boys.

After getting the boat launched, we saw several small gators right after dark, but it wasn’t until about an hour after dark that we found one that we wanted to pursue. It was an 8-footer that I would have been happy to harvest. However, this one gave us the slip, so we were off to find another one. We started back down the river, and it wasn’t long until we spotted a nice 9-footer. Once again, however, this big lizard gave us the slip, leaving us a little frustrated. We both knew that having this happen was just all part of the hunt, so we weren’t about to give up anytime soon.

We had only gone a few hundred yards when I spotted another set of big red eyes. We slowly made our way closer to size him up, but when Gabe put the spotlight on him, we both knew immediately that this thing was grown, and I let the arrow fly. An explosion of water, followed by line flying out of the Muzzy Gator Getter bottle let us know that the arrow had flown true.

Knowing that the river was full of all kinds of things that he could wrap around, I decided not to let him swim freely. I kept tension on the buoy attached to the line, which forced him to tow the boat around and hopefully tire him out quickly.

Within a few minutes, he surfaced, and we got our first good look at the beast. We knew he was big, but we had no idea he was as big as he was. I immediately grabbed my pistol and took a shot at his head. He responded by thrashing and diving to the bottom of the river.

I slowly pulled him back to the surface and shot him in the head once again with my .380 (they use .22’s on Swamp People right), resulting with more thrashing and diving back to the bottom. Once again I started pulling him back up, hoping that the third time would be the charm, when the unthinkable happened. The arrow had come out of my gator of a lifetime. To say I was devastated would be an understatement.

Even though it was after midnight, I had to tell someone what had happened and get suggestions on what to do. I called Nathan, and we decided I should drag a treble hook across the bottom in hopes of hooking him.

After dragging the 10/0 hook all over the area with no luck, we heard a sound similar to a growl coming from the water’s edge. We trolled over to where the noise had come from, and to our surprise, it was him, right next to the bank. I grabbed my bow and took a quick shot, hoping to capitalize on this second chance, only to see my arrow fly over him, causing the beast to sink back into the murky waters of the Flint.  I was once again heartbroken that I had missed my second chance but still hopeful that he would surface again.

After waiting less than five minutes, he was up again. This time I knew I had to connect, so I calmed my nerves, drew my bow, took aim and released the arrow. This time it hit his back and ricocheted off, sending him under yet again. The wait this time for him to resurface was less than a minute. I knew now that the only place I was going to get good penetration was in his neck, and that’s where just a few seconds later my arrow found its mark.  I pulled him up close to the boat for a third shot to the head with once again the same result—more thrashing and swimming down.

When he surfaced again, I put another arrow in his neck to avoid another pull off. I pulled him up for a fourth shot, and that one finally finished him off.

After many high-fives and hugs, it was now time for us to get the monster in the boat. We knew immediately we were going to need some help loading him in the boat, but where would we find help at 1 a.m. on the Flint River? We no sooner let our gator sink back to the bottom when a boat rounded the bend. We flagged down the boat, which was driven by my new friend, Phillip Nichols, and his wife “Boots.” I found out later that Phillip is the owner of Turkey Creek Taxidermy in Vienna.

Phillip told us that he lived only a few hundred yards from where we were and offered to tow the giant back to his place since it was closer than the boat ramp. We finally got it in the boat when another group of hunters stopped and helped us out. The big male was taped at 12-feet, 6-inches and weighed 516 pounds.

Within a few hours, we were headed north toward Lizella. Before I left Phillip’s place, however, I asked him if he would be interested in mounting my trophy. He said that he would love to, and he did not disappoint. Not only did I kill the gator of a lifetime but was able to have it mounted by a resident of the area that this beast called home.

I couldn’t have been happier with the mount and the hospitality that Phillip showed to me and my son, reminding me that despite what the news wants us to believe, there still are good people in the world, and Georgia is full of them.