Ronald Gallagher, age 11, of Sandston, Va., for his question;
Do alligators lay eggs?
Mrs. Alligator lays a clutch of two or three dozen eggs every year. She is a reptile and most of the reptiles are egg‑laying animals. A few of the snakes give birth to live babies. The turtles, the lizards, the rest of the snakes, the crocodiles and their cousins the alligators lay roundish eggs covered in plastic‑like shells. Though pliable, these shells are often very tough, Some, formed of layers of fiberous webbing, rate among the wonders of nature.
The eggs of the alligator are too tough for the teeth of small rodents. But many of them are broken open by the sharp teeth of the racoon. Mrs, Alligator, however, works hard to keep these furry bandits from her precious hoard. She mounts guard like a dragon before her nest until her scrappy youngsters are safely launched into the world,
Mama Alligator is no beauty. But she is one of the best mothers of the whole reptile family. Snakes and turtles lay their eggs and go off and leave them to the mercies of nature. Mrs. Alligator not only guards her eggs, she builds them a large and elaborate nest.
By nature, she is a water animal. She is ungainly on land but a graceful swimmer in and out of the water. In swimming, her legs are not used, even as oars. She glides through the water with graceful waving movements of her spine and tail. She is an air‑breathing animal, then she floats, which is often, her eyes and nostrils poke above the water in little bumps.
The eggs and babies are also air‑breathers and must therefore hatch out on the land. Mrs. Alligator selects a shady spot for the nest. For, though alligators like to sun bathe, they soon perish in the air above 100 degrees Fahrenheit. The nest is a pile of mud, decaying leaves and branches. The fermenting heat inside helps to develop and hatch the eggs. It may be a heap of debris six feet high. The eggs are buried deep inside and Mama leaves an escape hatch tunnel for the new‑born youngsters to find their way out into the world.
The baby sitting ends when the youngsters nose their way, head first, out of their shells. They are eight‑inch copies of grown alligators and scrappy enough to fend for themselves. Fighting as they go, the miniature dragons set out for the water. Some fall prey to coons and other bandits. A few are gobbled up by bad‑tempered bull alligators.
The lucky ones reach a shallow pond, often far from Mama’s haunts on the deep waters of the rivers and bayous. The little fellows stuff themselves on frogs, insects and fish. In a year they have doubled in length. In three years they are three feet long, grown‑up and ready to lay eggs of their own. Our alligators will add a foot of body length each year until they reach the age of ten. After that, they grow only a few inches with each passing year. Nowadays, hunters have reduced the number of alligators. Few live long enough to grow beyond three feet or so. In days gone by, there were alligators of eighteen feet in our southern streams and rivers.