McIlhenny's World-Record Alligator?

When humans ponder alligators, size matters; consider the newsworthiness of the discovery of a giant alligator, even in areas where the reptile is common. Throughout the recorded history of American alligators, accounts of colossal alligators are abundant and often accepted as truthful in spite of a lack of hard data or evidence to affirm such reports. Make no mistake, within the biological potential of the species, very large alligators have been scientifically documented; the widespread, well-monitored harvests in recent years have yielded extraordinary individuals. Suspiciously, none of these documented cases remotely approach century-old claims. A closer look at circumstances surrounding the report of what is usually considered the largest alligator on record is interesting and revealing.

Edward Avery McIlhenny was called Ned by his family and friends. He grew up on his father’s plantation, which encompassed the ancient salt dome known as Avery Island on the Louisiana coast about twenty-five miles south of Lafayette. The family business included the production of Tabasco-brand pepper sauce on this rare mound of elevated ground surrounded by thousands of acres of pristine wetlands. Natural productivity of virgin marshes in a near-tropical climate is tremendous and was reflected in the abundance and diversity of wildlife that included a cornucopia of seafood and clouds of wintering waterfowl. Alligators were likely as abundant here as anywhere on earth.

According to Ned, he and two assistants departed Avery Island on January 2, 1890, in a lugger and proceeded south through a maze of bayous to Vermilion Bay to hunt geese. Sailing southwest across the bay, they were becalmed at dusk near the mouth of a bayou that had been filled with silt by a hurricane a few years before. The shallow bayou, now cut off from the bay, led to Lake Cock several hundred yards inland. Ned, seeking game for supper, decided to walk the bank of the old stream with his shotgun. He shot two mallards just before dark and, when wading into the marsh to retrieve them, saw what he first thought was a partially submerged log. Approaching it, he discovered that it was a very large alligator that seemed to be addled in the cold air and water. He shot the alligator in the head, presumably with birdshot, and killed it; it was the largest alligator he had ever seen. After spending the night on the boat, Ned and his companions went back the following morning to retrieve the carcass. Using a rope, the three of them tried to pull the alligator through the marsh to the bank in order to skin it.

The alligator was so large and the bottom of the marsh so boggy that they could only manage to move the animal a short distance. Ned then decided to abandon this effort and measure the alligator where it was. Using the barrel of his shotgun, which he knew to be thirty inches long, he measured the alligator three times. He then declared the total length to be nineteen feet, two inches.

It is a bit surprising to me that this record is still apparently accepted by many in the scientific community. If a similar claim were to occur today without corroborating evidence, it would almost certainly not pass muster. The fact that the record is based solely on Ned’s word is problematic even though he became a well-regarded naturalist and wrote a ground-breaking book entitled The Alligator’s Life History, in 1935. Material in his book is obviously based on long-term observations, experiments, measurements, and extensive notes. Ned was likely the most knowledgeable alligator expert in the country at one time. This, and especially the fact that he became a prominent, wealthy businessman, probably discouraged criticism of a record that otherwise might be questioned.

Issues pertinent to the record include Ned’s possible youthful bravado; he was seventeen when he killed the large alligator. Even though he was unable to retrieve the specimen, it would not have been impractical to procure the head, a common tactic of contemporary naturalists. If one assumes that Ned’s shotgun barrel was exactly thirty inches long, a standard length for such guns, the alligator would have been exactly 7.66 barrel lengths long—a dimension that in my experience of measuring large alligators in the marsh with steel tapes would be difficult to determine.   

A look back into Ned’s writings reveals some proven discrepancies. At one time he boasted of first introducing nutria to Louisiana after acquiring the original stock in Argentina. The McIlhenny Company website now states that this claim is untrue. The company historian has said of Ned that, “He was well-known on the island for his gift for spinning yarns…I think he saw himself as an entertainer when relating his personal history. He took liberties in a good-natured way.” Ned wrote the account of his record in his book published thirty-three years after the incident. With so little evidence, we will never know the truth of Ned’s youthful encounter with the giant alligator.

Of course, there are other questionable claims of extremely large alligators. None, though, have been accepted to the degree that McIlhenny’s has. Researchers in Florida have investigated many such reports in that state. To verify historical claims, they devised a mathematical model based on a control group of alligators that had been carefully measured. The model demonstrated that the total length of an alligator could be accurately predicted by the known length of its head. The researchers evaluated several old skulls and compared the declared length with the length predicted by the model. The skull of one “record” specimen was measured, and the total length of the entire alligator was estimated to be fourteen feet, ten inches. The early naturalist had claimed the animal was just over sixteen feet long. Researchers found this tendency to exaggerate to be the norm when investigating the old skulls.

Detailed information has been gathered on hundreds of thousands of alligators harvested since intensive management of the species began in the early 1970s. In terms of total length, the contemporary record seems to be a giant that was killed in Alabama in 2014. Biologists there measured him at an even fifteen feet (although greater lengths of this individual were reported by the media).

No doubt, the practice of verification won’t tame tall tales. It is as if there is a primal need to believe in the existence of potential human predators on a scale that exaggerates reality. Such ideas lurking around the edges of our domestic imaginations and roaring from the swamps of our psyche seem too much to give up.

Adapted from American Alligator – Ancient Predator in the Modern World (University Press of Florida, 2013) by Kelby Ouchley.