The Bluffton Sun - Published 1/22/25
I live on a golf course because Bluffton and Hilton Head has eleventy-five thousand miles of them. But I never take advantage of it. One late afternoon my husband and I decided to dust off my starter set of teenage golf clubs for a quick round. With my high end tools and mad skills, I’m almost positive the club will try to recruit me to be one of their pros. Thankfully the course wasn't busy - so we could play just the two of us.
We used to play occasionally at a club we belonged to when we lived in California. And by “play” I mostly donated golf balls to Mother Nature because there were the following warnings posted about the potential to have a wild animal or two join your twosome
Wild boar trying to lower their handicap - I'm not here for it. Golf should be about looking cute in your golf attire and wearing fabulous shoes. Boars DO NOT look cute in collared shirts and can you imagine them trying to fit their hooves into a pair of black and white saddle Calloways? Not so much.
Anyway, my husband and I headed out to the course. Despite the many years between my last golf game and today, my game is consistent. And, by "consistent," I mean bad. But it's ok to be bad at golf while looking cute in the golf outfit, right? Hence the reason boars will never be sponsored by Titleist.
All went well for the first few holes. I’m blind as a bat and can never see where my ball goes, I mean, the times it goes farther than a worm burner. But, no one flipped me a personal birdie for hitting their house - so I consider that a resounding success. We were about to tee off on hole 3 when we had someone try to join our twosome: a venomous cottonmouth.
I specifically play with only my husband at odd times because I don't want strangers to join us. I am trying to have fun and not stress about how bad I am. Which is really, super duper, extra McBad. How am I ever going to improve my game if I'm all nervous about looking like a complete fool while playing? And, of course, there's that small concern about DYING FROM A VENOMOUS SNAKE BITE. Plus, they never pay for drinks after. They're all "I can't carry money because I don't have any hands.” Which is rude because they basically are a wallet.
I have lived in South Carolina for five years, and am very familiar with the different wildlife that lives among us. And, I have a healthy respect for them. When I first moved here I was a bit nervous about alligators, as they would be new neighbors for me. I am fascinated by them, but view them from afar, knowing how dangerous they are and how quickly they can move short distances. We have lived harmoniously for years now. I even have one that lives in the water near the entrance of our gate that I have named Cupcake because that is how super zen I am about them being in my backyard.
Well, we rounded the corner on the cart path and almost ran directly into an alligator the size of Egypt. And, being as cool as I am about these bad boys, I acted very calmly and screamed “OH MY GOD WE’RE ALL GOING TO DIE!!!” Which is always super helpful behavior in a crisis.
My husband stopped the cart a few feet in front of the giant pile of dinosaur offspring impeding our way to the next hole. This alligator was literally over 13’ long. He could have used me for floss after he enjoyed an appetizer of my husband and the golf cart.
I kept hearing some crazy lady screaming like a banshee “WHY ARE YOU NOT DRIVING AWAY? BACK THE CART UP! IT’S GOING TO EAT US! I AM NOT IN A CUTE ENOUGH OUTFIT FOR IT TO BE WHAT I WEAR AS A GHOST!” Someone should spike her White Claw with a Xanax or three.
The alligator couldn’t have cared less about the woman standing on the roof of the golf cart screeching so loudly that dogs in Jasper County were howling. It glanced our way like, “Oh hey, just out for a little stroll this afternoon. I saw that Swamp Moccasin you wouldn’t let join your twosome. Good call. He’s got alligator arms. Haha, get it?” Then lumbered off.
Crisis averted. Good thing I handled it so calmly. Now, how close are we to the 19th hole?
Tagline: Tracy Winslow is the owner of Low Country Shrimp and Knits, the premier yarn store in the Low Country. Tracy really should give meditation classes because she is clearly so chill that doctors often comment that she may actually be dead inside. To hear this and other stories in person, take one of the many classes offered at Shrimp and Knits. It’s like a two hour stand up comedy show where you do fun things with yarn. Check out the Classes and Events Calendar at shrimpandknits.com to join in on her humor.