biological shock (n) – the realization that most every living thing around you is not the like the living things you are used to having around you
Editor’s note: This post dates back to the end of our first week on board. It languished for over two months before I stopped ignoring it and finished it up.
One of the biggest changes for Maizey and Crew is that they must now walk over the length of a football field before reaching grass. Only once so far have we needed to borrow a hose for an impromptu dock washdown. This is also after steeling themselves to jump onto the dock. But in the mornings, we walk them along the roads and parking lot at Kennedy Point Park next door. Sorry, no walks in the shaded grassy area; this park is reserved for humans and service animals only. 😔 Alas, we play along and restrict ourselves to the asphalt.
These twice-daily forays, along with just moving between the boat, clubhouse, parking lot and wherever else we may roam have been an ecological eyeopener.
Of course, I haven’t really mentioned the proverbial elephant in the room. The alligators. We’ve only seen a handful in the marina so far; I think about 4-5 individuals and the larger ones are relocated to the boot factory when they start hanging around too much. But any moderately-sized body of water is pretty much guaranteed to have several. Cindy and I have interacted with a few at the end of the airboat ride or in front of the Florida Key Lime Pie Factory in Cocoa Beach (’cause, “It’s Florida”).
Those sterile, highly controlled encounters are pretty tame. You’re more likely to hurt them; between the bands keeping them from smiling back at you and the horrible thought of chipping their bright green nail polish.
It’s a totally different story when you walk up to a river and an 8-10 foot gator just cruises by eyeing you the whole time. It gets the fight-or-flight response queued up in your primitive monkey brain. It’s their world and you know it.
