'I Was Attacked By An Alligator—It Had My Head in Its Jaws'

For work, I often travel through treacherous areas across Florida and the Southeast to find ancient shark teeth. I turn the teeth I find into beautiful jewelry; necklaces, bracelets, earrings, and apparel and then donate to an amazing non-profit that supports shark welfare.

But the main focus has always been my hunt for massive megalodon shark teeth. That's what I was looking for in Florida's Myakka River on May 30, 2021. I had found plenty of teeth in this river before, but I'd always gone with someone who was much more experienced in river diving than me. This time, I decided to go alone, which was not smart.

I was relatively frustrated because the day before I hadn't been successful in finding anything. I just have this uncontrollable drive to find these beautiful treasures, and I think that got the best of me that day.

The Myakka River is very treacherous, but I had a lot of confidence diving there because I had spent so much time in it without any issues. But I went during alligator mating season, which is possibly the worst time to go and I was free-diving, so I didn't have some of the gear that can deter gators. I was too comfortable, I felt I was invincible.

I did look around for gators before I jumped in. But even if I had seen one, I think I was just too comfortable. I suspect I would have thought, "If I try not to splash around and cause commotion at the surface like their prey, they will leave me alone, similar to the sharks I have become comfortable diving with."

I had been in the water for about a minute when I felt like I had been hit by a boat propeller moving at 50 miles per hour. My first thought was, "Where did that boat come from?" There was just so much force.

My head got ripped down to the left very forcibly and I felt my hand being pulled too. I didn't feel any pain, but everything was hazy and I had lost hearing in my left ear.

I remember looking up and seeing a gator looking at me; a female that looked to be around seven feet long. I touched my head with my right hand and felt a flap of hair sticking out, which I now know was my scalp.

Alligator bites can cut through steel and I felt the wrath of that on my skull. I have never felt a mechanical force control my body like that before; it was very sobering and humbling. I was powerless and completely at the mercy of that wild animal.

I looked at my hand and saw there was blood all over it. Then the gator lunged at me and I backed up so that my fins were facing her, and my head was away from her. Then she lunged at me again, much more aggressively. She looked mad. I remember thinking: "I gotta get out of here."

I'm lucky that I was able to get away and that she let me go; that she didn't do the "death roll" which is to pull me under water and drown me. And that she didn't come back, or knock me out. I thought I was going to die any moment. I have no idea why the gator didn't come for me again.

As I climbed out of the river, I started getting really tired. I called over a couple of people who were close by—who I now know were Stephen and Rene Rosenberger—but I was definitely in shock.

Rene called 911 and gave me my phone so I could speak to my parents. Stephen is an ex-firefighter and he wrapped my head in a tourniquet. He was a complete stranger and helped me out when I needed him the most.

I had no idea how bad it was. I didn't know if I was about to leave this earth at any moment because I started getting really tired and woozy. That's where I thought I was going to die. I was telling Rene and Stephen that I was about to fall asleep and they were saying, "No, no, don't go to sleep!"

That to me felt like a near death experience. But it was relatively peaceful, there was no pain associated with it, everything would have just gone dark.

I was nervous because I didn't know what was going on in the back of my head. Stephen, with his firefighting experiences, was trying to reassure me, but I could tell in his voice that he didn't know exactly how bad it was.

During the ambulance ride, I was still coherent. I didn't pass out; I was still in shock. I called my mom and my then girlfriend and I made a quick video, that I thought could be my last, to all of my friends on Instagram, briefly explaining what was going on and what I was doing.

At the hospital, they started cleaning the wound, and gave me numbing shots in my head. I had to get 34 staples in my skull.

The doctors told me it might not be as bad as they first thought. They said they had to double check with a CT scan, but they thought I was going to live. I remember feeling this extreme emotion creeping up on me that I'd never felt in my life.

I started crying like I've never cried in my life, overwhelmed with the idea that I was most likely going to continue living and I was going to be able to see my girlfriend and my family and all my other friends.

I was told I had a mild skull fracture in my temple but that everything looked OK. They still had to do a CT scan the next day, which was where they would see any brain bleeds or internal damage. That was what I was most concerned about.

In the end, I had no lasting brain injury. But I was told that if the alligator teeth had penetrated my skull by one more half inch, I would have died. That's how close it was.

I was only in hospital—in an intensive care unit (ICU)—for two days. The following Monday I was back to work with staples in my head and a black eye. And I was even working out again within two weeks.

I respect alligators much more than I did before feeling the force of their bite and of their wrath. They are incredible creatures. This incredible animal let me go—that changed my life and has allowed me to spread what I'm here to do. I want to make sure alligators are always here, and that we continue protecting their ecosystems.

Surviving was a blessing and I've done the best I can to turn that negative trauma into something positive through my donations and support for sustainability across Florida and the world. It has allowed me to grow my platform and spread awareness about some of the environmental issues we have going on in Florida and across the world, specifically with sharks.

I'm 26 now and something I'm looking to do through my company, SHRKco, is to try and make a difference. I want to be the change I want to see in the world and I'm just getting started.

Jeffrey Heim is the owner of SHRKco.com and lives in Tampa, Florida. He donates proceeds from his jewelry to scientists from the non-profit 501c-3: Fins Attached. You can follow him on Instagram @shrkco.

All views expressed in this article are the author's own.

As told to Aristos Georgiou.