I was watching the fishermen along the Gulf side of East Point, Florida arrive in oyster boats with their enormous net bags of fresh oysters. They immediately went to large sheds to unload. After a day on the water the oystermen are covered with mud from harvesting as though it‘s a protective layer. The long black aprons they wear seem an inadequate shield from the layers of Gulf of Mexico silt, sand and tiny broken shells
One oysterman caught my eye as he left one of the sheds. He wore a slouch hat at a rakish angle and work clothes with a long black apron. On his bare feet were thick leather clogs. Sparkling blue eyes looked up at me from behind wire rim glasses. I asked if I could take his picture and introduced myself as a photography teacher. He said his name was Tangle Foot. Looking at his feet I knew why. The many years of oystering have damaged his feet.
At 60 he is a veteran of a hard life on the Gulf. A happy smiling man, Tangle Foot lives in a town in the northwest panhandle of Florida with a population of 979 people. He is proud to be called an oysterman, but was quick to tell me about other parts of his life.
He continues to fish and practice his passion of making beautiful fishing lures out of found material and paint from K Mart. The lures are expertly crafted, looking just like the very expensive ones seen in tackle shops.
Tangle Foot is a talker. He tells me about his 6 year old granddaughter who calls him Poppy. She has a little pink rifle she thinks she can use to shoot alligators but of course very small alligators. He told me she had already gone ‘gator’ hunting with him. He quickly pulled from his red checkered shirt pocket some pictures of a pretty little girl with a head of blond curls with her 6 inch ‘gator’, a little pink toy rifle in one hand and her arm around her Poppy’s neck. Tangle Foot was of course holding the alligator.
As I left I said I would send him a copy of one of the photographs of him and he immediately gave me his address. I asked for his name and he said, "Just put Tangle Foot. The Post Office knows who I am."
