". . . The alligators themselves—with the exception of a 14-foot-9-inch male named Gulliver—frolicked uncaged among the property's ponds. Footpaths tied the terrain in bow-knots. Zelta conducted tours along these trails—taking the lead on the way in and bringing up the rear on exit to insure hungry mouths followed no one home. Once, while leading a tour, Zelta took an alligator nip to her leg. On another occasion, she nearly became a tidbit for big Betty.

"Betty took me to the water one day, but it was my fault," Zelta insists. "I was feeding the alligators chicken. They love chicken, and it makes your hands nice and soft.

"When they see a bucket, they know you've got food. And you learn not to feed all of them until you just about finish your trail 'cause they're right behind you, following like a bunch of ducks. Betty had eaten well that day. She had gone down to the water and was lying there with her head up. To my surprise, she decided she wanted another bite to eat. She lunged after the chicken, and she got my hand . . . ."