"We've got to catch it" came out of someone's mouth, and realizing that we left equipped to fasten a plastic gator to a log, we quickly composed ourselves, or at least tried, and made a quick trip back to our home base to regroup, and reequip for a real live gator hunt.

Discussing what we needed to catch a gator, we quickly ran around grabbing "tools" - fishing gear, hunting gear, more cameras, and then looking for bait.

What could we use to lure a gator into our boat.

I grabbed a package of hot dogs and my other cohorts came up with a can of vienna sausage and a package of marinated chicken breasts from Clinton County's very own Cagles - Keystone Foods processing plant.

Surely one of those would work to lure the creature into our net.

Wait - we didn't have a net. It was one of the first things I thought of and on several occasions I continued saying that one of more important tools, would be a large dip net.

No net anywhere on the place. A quick trip to a neighbor was in order, and without telling him where we were off to, we asked if we could possibly borrow his dip net for awhile.

No net on his boat either.

So off we go, with our gator catching paraphernalia, bait, hooks, racing hearts - but no net, other than two small pieces of a rotten net that Smith had used as a decoration.

Back to the end of the cove, and all of us asking the question -"wonder if he's still there?"

As we pulled back in, this time considerably quieter, the three of began looking toward the log, not knowing exactly what to expect.

Back in the same place, atop the downed tree, surrounded by brush and muddy water - there he lay - the Dale Hollow Gator.

We planned briefly, and after realizing that none of us had actually been on a gator hunt before, we admitted that this was going to have to be a trial and error - hit and miss thing.

As we watched our target, which didn't seem near as excited to see us as we were to see him, the first plan began to come together. We'd see just how close we could get without using any of our tools except the largest piece of rotten net we had.

This would be a piece of cake - float up to the gator, throw some vienna sausage at him, then catch him in the net.

Usually, the first plan isn't the best, and that proved to be the case in this first attempt.

The critter simply slithered off the log and swam a few feet away in the opposite direction, seeking refuge in a heavily weeded area in about three feet of water.

As I manned the camera, my two accomplices began their luring technique, which consisted of hunkering down and throwing vienna sausages into the water, with Smith breaking the rhythm from time to time to take a bite of the bait himself.

Bad plan. Vienna sausages, especially those that have been bitten in half before being thrown, don't float for any length of time at all before sinking to the bottom of the already muddy, mucky area - never to be seen again until they show up in the stomach of a large catfish.

Next plan - not one of my smartest moves ever

As we mulled over what went wrong with our first attempt, we continued to look at the small gator, resting now with what appeared to be a smile across his foot long mouth, in the weeds.

"Okay boys, here's the deal," I said as I put the camera down and stood up. "Look at him - he's a baby gator - even if he bites down on one of us, how bad can it hurt, at least we've caught him."

"Are you going to get in the water with him," Freddie asked - semi-making a joke out of the situation.

It was then, when I peeled off my shirt and reached for a life jacket that the pair got really quiet.

"Get the net out," I began explaining, "and I'll ease up behind him with this paddle, warp him in the tail and shoo him right back toward you and into the net."

A look of disbelief went across both of their faces as I finished explaining my plan and reached down for the short paddle.

Easing into the shallow water, with my "gator shooing paddle" in hand, I soon realized that below the three feet or so of water below us, was about another foot or more of mud, which made my maneuvering the twenty feet or so around a couple of downed trees and into the brush even slower and more labored that I had anticipated.

Approaching the area where the small creature was situated, I paused briefly until I once again had my eyes locked onto his eyes and back, and began making my way toward his tail.

With just a few feet separating us, I used the paddle to push up toward into his direction, and caused a small stick to brush up against his tail, and with that - he began moving away through the brush and out of my sight. I love it when a plan comes together.

"Where'd he go - is he coming your way?" I quickly asked as I began slowly easing back through the mud so I could get a better view of the gator going into the net.

"He's gone. I don't know. Hey Al - I can't see him at all now," was the reply I heard, and the return trip back to the boat - through the mud and water became a much quicker one than it had been getting out there.

As I reached the back of the boat, my instincts took over, and after a quick glance back over my shoulder just to make sure that "jaws" wasn't about to hit me in the tail with something, I returned to my water-skiing days of some three decades ago when we used the outboard motor to regain entry into the boat.

One quick step, one bear-hug of the motor and I jumped back into the boat, noting that I hadn't made that move in at least 25 years.

"You're pretty nimble for an old guy," Freddie said as he marveled at my boat entering expertise.

It was about then that I explained that someone else could get in the water with the gator next time, if we were planning on sticking with that same plan.