One alligator is enough for John Call, but he probably could never top the one he got.
Call, of Cabot, has applied for an alligator hunting tag since 2007, when the Arkansas Game and Fish Commission opened alligator season. He had become resigned to the annual rejection, so he had to process the good news email he got from the Arkansas Game and Fish Commission.
He finally drew an alligator hunting permit for Lester Sitzes Bois d'Arc Wildlife Management Area near Hope. The greentree reservoir is full of gators, and it's as close to a sure thing as a hunter could want.
"Now what do I do?" Call said, recalling his initial response.
He never hunted gators before. He didn't have the necessary equipment nor basic tactical knowledge.
Enter Call's sons-in-law, David Covington of Ward and Jeff Newman of Ward. They are avid hunters who committed enthusiastically to the adventure.
Call's crew attended a mandatory meeting where they learned what equipment they needed and how to use it.
"The Game and Fish can be exasperating to deal with sometimes, but they put on a great meeting," Call said. "They were very helpful and very encouraging. They really wanted everybody to get an alligator."
Next, Call and his crew had to familiarize themselves with a reservoir they had never seen before. He and Covington visited in late August, mainly to find the launch ramp and identify key landmarks.
Call quickly realized that his 14-foot johnboat was too small. Covington and Newman are big guys. Add snares, ropes, lights, a gun and other gear, and you've got a hazardous operating environment.
They upgraded to Covington's 15½-foot boat, which is also 48 inches wide at the beam. Covington also affixed a snare to a 15-foot dowel, and he borrowed a harpoon set.
The hunt began at sunset Saturday, Sept. 16. Only one other hunter was on the lake, and there was plenty of distance between them.
Alligators are easy to spot at night. Reflective eye membranes glow ruby red when hit by white light. With Covington running the outboard and Newman on the prow with a sculling paddle, the group saw about 30 alligators, but none was big enough.
"Their eyes were like driveway markers," Call said. "We got over two of them, a 5-footer and a 6. I said, 'Nah, we're not going to do that on the first night.' "
To avoid fouling in brush, Call wanted to snare a gator in open water, which proved futile.
"We'd get 20 feet from them and they'd go under and come back up 20 yards away," Call said. "You can't scull faster than a gator can swim. It plum wore Jeff out."
They abandoned the open water and stalked the bank. They got close to a big gator, Call said. As he was about to apply the snare, a 6-inch bream launched out of the water, and the gator tried to catch it.
"Jeff's feet were hanging over the side of the boat, which was not a good idea," Call said. "The gator's mouth came wide open. Jeff said some things that you can't repeat, but man, that's the one we wanted."
Call went down swinging in the first inning. He tried unsuccessfully to snare several gators. The frustration of the misses coupled with the fatigue of handling a 15-foot pole for hours wore him down. He got slower and sloppier as the night went on, and the sons-in-law gave him a hard time.
They returned on Sunday, having replaced the sculling paddle with an electric trolling motor. A fisherman said there were a lot of gators along the levee that made it impossible to run yo-yos. Gators are conditioned to the sound of a yo-yo springing, and they eat the fish before fishermen can reach them.
There was a big one on the levee, the fisherman said.
They didn't take long to find it. When Call's crew reached the levee, a big gator made a huge commotion in the shallow water, but it resurfaced 20 yards away. They played hide-and-seek for a while, but with every dive, the gator came up a little closer until it finally resurfaced within reach of Call's snare. He eased the snare over the gator's head, worked it down the neck and jerked as hard as he could.
The rope was slack. Call's shoulders sagged in defeat.
"I was looking at my sons-in-law, and about that time the gator took off and nearly jerked me out of the boat," Call said.
With everybody pulling, the gator tangled in the rope and winched itself closer and closer to the boat as it rolled. There was almost no slack to work with, and the gator's jaws snapped only 18 inches from Call's face.
"He was snapping like crazy," Call said. "Water was flying everywhere. I yelled at my son-in-law to get the gun, but it wasn't loaded."
With the boat listing precariously under the weight of a huge gator and three combatants, a desperate search for ammo commenced. One shot ended it.
The limp carcass didn't convince Newman, who pleaded for Call to shoot again. There was no need. This hunt was over.
The gator was 11 feet, 10 inches long. Call said he intends to convert the hide to a floor mount, but he said he's gotten many requests from friends for boots and belts. The back hide, with its ridges, makes the most attractive boots, but the soft belly hide is the most comfortable.
"It looks like that's all going to be pretty expensive," said Call, who retired from the Kroger Corp. "It costs $30 a foot just to process him."
For Call, the gator is the third rung of the Arkansas Big Five.
"I've got my deer and turkey, and now I've got a gator," Call said. "All I need is an elk and a bear. It's just amazing in a state like Arkansas you can get all five on public land."
Sports on 09/24/2017