CLUB WEST
Terrebonne Parish, in the heart of South Louisiana’s Cajun Country, is a land of swamps and bayous
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Story by Dave Houser • Photographs by Dave Houser & Jan Butchofsky-Houser
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hostly cypress trees draped with Spanish moss cluster while Annie repeats the enticement, dangling a morsel of chicken
grassy banks, their knobby knees poking up through dark over the water.
green water. Deceptive carpets of water hyacinth, appearing Soon an armoured snout backed by a set of steely round eyes
solid enough to walk on, undulate with the passing wake of Bayou bubbles up from beneath the boat. To a chorus of squeals, a six-
Annie’s boat. foot-long gator catapults a distance easily half its length out of the
A pair of egrets alight from a marshy blanket of duckweed. They water to make a toothy snatch of the handout.
fly with grace but land awkwardly in a nearby wax myrtle, tottering Two more eyes emerge from the hyacinth, and then two more.
on long, thin legs more adept at wading than roosting. “Hungry babies? Come on sweeties” she says, holding out another
“Okay, cut it, Jimmy,” she whispers; the outboard engine sputters tidbit. The eyes register not the least magnanimity, and as “Pete” and
and dies. Even before the broad-beamed bass boat glides to a halt, “Sam” take turns savaging the proffered hunks of meat, one could
Annie Miller is standing in the bow, spearing a chunk of raw chicken hardly be fooled into believing the beasts are friends of Annie’s.
on the end of a stick. “Tame?” she chuckles with disbelief at the question put forward
“Baaaabies! Come on baaaabies! Peeeete! Saaaam! Come on, by a woman from New Jersey, “der’s no such ting as a tame alliga-
sweeties… Mamma will feed you,” she croons as if calling in soggy tor,” she assures us in a hardy Cajun accent, “so keep yo hands
spaniels. All eyes are turned to the placid, tannin-tinted surface inside da boat, madame, s’il vous plait.”
30 WELLINGTON LIFESTYLES
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