Creature Chronicles

So I’m scanning the national news wires Friday to see what’s new in the world, when I come across a story that begins: “A jumbo alligator lunged out of a Louisiana lake . . . “

Best not to tell you the rest.

Suffice it to say, any story that begins with “a jumbo alligator” is not going to be wholesome fun for the whole family.

Not unless the story goes on to report that a jumbo alligator has been trained to catch a Frisbee, or to count to three with its tail, or to dial 911.

Yet after months of George Bush saying this and Al Gore saying that, some people probably don’t mind being interrupted by an occasional jumbo alligator story.

This one (literally) came out of Bossier City, La., a suburb of Shreveport. It is an area known mainly for its oil refineries and, as of now, I guess, its jumbo alligators.

In a nutshell, what happened Friday was that a “Jaws”-sized gator jumped up just when it was least expected, disturbing a Bossier City gentleman’s previously jumbo-reptile-free day at the lake.

A city councilman named David Jones--a cousin of the gentleman in question-- reportedly reacted to the attack in a curious way. Did he say “Oh, no!” or “Look out! Jumbo alligator!” or something suitably panic-stricken?

Nope.

What he said was:

“I’m by no means shocked that it happened. We don’t live in Kansas.”

In other words, Louisiana is wet. Louisiana has lakes and swamps. And lakes and swamps have alligators.

What do you expect to lunge out of Louisiana lakes--jumbo shrimp?

So if you’re planning a trip any time soon to Bossier City, be prepared.

Don’t go near the water. Or at least don’t go swimming without a rifle.

Because never forget, sticks and stones may break your bones, but creatures that come out of nowhere can really hurt you.

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A couple of weeks ago, we reported here about an incident at the Los Angeles Zoo that captured the city’s attention.

A 24-year-old western lowland (but not necessarily jumbo) gorilla named Evelyn got loose on a Wednesday afternoon, sending zoo visitors scurrying toward the exits.

They scurried because of a general fear among human beings that an escaped gorilla might mistake them for a banana.

Well, everything turned out OK that day.

Evelyn took a stroll around the zoo for an hour or so, got shot with a tranquilizer dart, stumbled into a men’s room and went nighty-night. Zookeepers took care of the gorilla, and that ended the whole megillah.

I considered this an interesting story because I couldn’t begin to imagine what it’s like to be at a zoo and learn that a gorilla just got loose.

That was before Cheryl and Valerie Williams told me exactly what it’s like.

Because they were at the zoo on Oct. 11 when a gorilla got loose?

No, because they were there on Nov. 19, 1986, when a gorilla got loose.

“When she was a toddler,” Cheryl says of her daughter, who is going on 16 now, “and my son was an infant, we visited the L.A. Zoo with another friend who also had two children. As we were eating lunch in the pavilion by the giraffes, my friend suddenly had a horrified look on her face.

“Then my daughter and I found ourselves on the ground.”

Valerie was too young then to remember much now, but she remembers this: “While we were eating lunch, something knocked me off the bench. I remember looking and seeing the gorilla, but I don’t believe I was afraid because I didn’t understand the threat that she might have been.”

It was nonetheless a scary experience for the Williamses, who live in Northridge, a relatively gorilla-free community.

“Two zoo officials quickly took care of the situation,” Cheryl recalls, so nobody got hurt.

But it isn’t every day when one minute you are eating lunch and the next minute you almost are lunch.

*

Much earlier, in the late 1940s, Barbara Joan Grubman’s father took her to Madison Square Garden in New York.

The circus was in town. And her dad wrangled passes to a Ringling Bros. dress rehearsal.

“While they were bringing out the cages with the lions,” says Grubman, a speech specialist for the L.A. school district, “photographers began shooting off flashbulbs. One lion escaped and ran into the lobby of the Garden.”

Trust me, this is a little different than seeing “The Lion King” in person. This was an actual jumbo king of the jungle.

Grubman says a reporter ran to a phone, called his editor and said: “There’s a lion looking at me through the glass of a phone booth.”

Luckily, it got captured.

“But a lion seems much more menacing to me than a mere gorilla,” Grubman believes.

Me, I’m not sure. Alligator, gorilla, lion . . . all I know is, it’s a jungle out there.

*

Mike Downey’s column appears Sundays, Wednesdays and Fridays. Write to: Los Angeles Times, 202 W. 1st St., Los Angeles, CA 90012. E-mail: mike.downey@latimes.com