In which Moominmama visits one of the bayous of Louisiana and has a scare....

Moominmama had no intention of feeding the alligators and watched very carefully where she put her feet for fear of slipping into the giant alligator feeding dish of the bayou. I was in the Barataria Bay Preserve which is part of the Jean Lafitte National Historical Park south of New Orleans.

Moominmama was walking in the steps of the pirates! Jean Lafitte and his crew supposedly smuggled goods in and out of New Orleans using the bayous of Barataria Bay. Even the name of the bay has a crazy history. The name is taken from the novel "Don Quixote," where Quixote's trusty but gullible sidekick, Sancho Panza, is promised an island to govern. That imaginary island was called Barataria by author Miguel Cervantes. The name got applied to this bay off the Gulf of Mexico!

I wasn't literally walking in pirate footsteps, however, because the nice National Park Service has built an elevated walkway that allows you to safely traverse the swamps, flooded forests and marshland around Bayou Coquille. 

Sections did however get slippery in the rain, which we've had a lot of lately. I arrived between thunderstorms and since the trail was less than four miles total out and back, I figured I'd be back before the second wave of the storm. 

The dripping trees and the thunder rumbling in the distance created an eerie atmosphere. But there was so much to see that I got off to a pretty pokey start. 

The twisty roots of this giant oak to the right mark early evidence of a settlement, with a "midden" or mound made of clamshells, smaller but not unlike ones I'd seen in Florida. The oak grew over this midden and wrapped its roots around it, keeping the shape long after the shells were taken for road fill. 

There was so much plant life squeezed into each square foot. A few old and rare trees towered, like the bald cypress once  harvested in large numbers and transported down canals built into the bayou.

But there were also lovely little surprises like this native wild iris, below. And chickadee-sized birds with egg-yolk yellow heads. 

Irises and many of the other native species are threatened by rising seas that pump salt into freshwater ecosystems. According to the park service, the ocean is creeping in faster here than almost anywhere else in North America. The bayous are also being overrun by invasive plants and animals. 

I wondered how much longer these sights would be available to others. Bayou Coquille started to feel like something very precious.  Heading back to the Visitor Center, I tried to see all the separate textures and colors of green -- mosses, lichen, algae, ferns, Palmettos, trees and bushes. I recognized the red maple and poison ivy but not so much of the rest!

All of sudden, I heard splashing and the rustle of trees. I couldn't see anything except a bit of brown moving ahead of me. I couldn't even tell what direction it was moving in! I stopped, heart in my throat. I'd forgotten about the alligators! Slowing I peered around a stand of greenery to see if the alligator was coming in my direction or away. And..... it was a small deer. A doe with sweet brown eyes who looked briefly at me then continued walking through the water.

Moominmama had a good laugh at herself and got her heart back in her chest, continuing on, this time looking for the bald cypress I had learned to recognize. More younger trees appeared to be growing near the visitor center, which seemed like a promising sign.

And with my eyes in the treetops (see one of the few remaining towering bald cypress at right), I failed to notice a 3-foot alligator until I was right alongside it, about 6 feet away. Gah! I'd normally freeze but I was too close. Do I back up or proceed? In the end I made a quick decision to proceed with caution and when I looked back, the alligator was moving away, apparently no more excited to see me than I was to see him (or her).

So that's Moominmama's alligator story! I was walking back to my car when lightning cracked directly overhead, making me jump after all the tension over the alligator. I made a quick dash to the safety of my car, figuring I'd tested my luck enough that day!

One other visit worth mentioning during my Louisiana stay. I went to Whitney Plantation, which is devoted to telling the story of plantation life from the perspective of those who were enslaved. And the most moving part of that visit was the artwork: sculptures, paintings, memorials and statues, many of them focused on the children who lost their lives, and if not their lives, their families and their childhoods to slavery.

The sculptures around the plantation are haunting. Visitors -- African Americans, I'm sure -- have left little gifts: a pretty stone, a piece of fruit, jewelry, coins, even a Black Lives Matter bracelet. Mementoes that moved me deeply and elevated these memorials to shrines.