And suddenly, I am awake. Before me, the smiling faces of family. Anticipation of our Swamp Fox Adventure written across happy faces.
But I know the swamp … I know what lurks beneath its black waters. I remember. "Dad, will there be snakes?" "Do we need insect repellent?" "Whew, I am already hot!""What about alligators?"
I know the swamp. I know how quickly the steaming heat can melt plastic faces … plastic smiles.
And reveal what lies just below the surface. Waiting for me.
Single file, we head into the swamp … its darkness enfolds us … wraps its arms around us … starts to unravel us. The smiles were the first to go. Silence embraced us, but for the sounds of hands fanning the still air and shooing away mosquitoes with a thirst for blood. Eyes once shining, now reflecting thoughts of malaria and murder.
I am overcome with with foreboding, darker than the swamp itself. Messages written in the history of the swamp speak to me.
However, for a brief moment … the sun shines once more … thanks to an overturned tree. All aboard! And for the briefest of moments, thought of torture and suffering melt away. It was like finding an albino fawn. We snapped a photo. Rare moments must be preserved for future generations.
And in the snap of a camera lens, things were back to abnormal as usual.
Denizens of swamp again made their presence known.
Where there should be water … mud holes and innumerable tracks of ferocious, herds of feral hogs.
Peeking from behind cypress knees … strange creatures, too hideous to describe.
And then, without warning … gaters … eleven of them to be exact. Little ones to be sure, but mom could not be far away. We scurried away only to see the trail disappear in a dense tangle of tall grasses briars and sweet gums … the perfect scenario for an attack by mama gater.
Pandemonium ensued followed by severe character assassination aligned solely at me.
"Stop it" I screamed. Perhaps I may have slapped a few faces … I can't be sure. One thing for sure though …
I took control.I whipped my trusty (perhaps rusty) machete from my pack. Without thought one for my personal safety, I plunged into the thick of it. No thought about cotton mouth moccasins … no care for gaters … poo on feral hogs. The lives of 5 whining, sniveling, crying, complaining, bleeding fellow hikers were in my hands. Their mouths said, "We hate you", but their eyes said, "Save us Bruce, you can do it".
Under my breath, I began to hum, "Swamp Fox Swamp Fox tail on his hat …"
And that is exactly what I did. Save them.
My thanks. The smiles on their faces would be more than enough reward for me.
