The Crocodile Hunter: The Incredible Life and Adventures of Steve and Terri Irwin by Steve Irwin, Terri Irwin

told by the National Parks powers-that-be that the notorious big male croc near the S-bend is back again and he’s popping up right alongside people in boats. He’s gotta come out before he gets too bold for his own good. That’s the fourth recent complaint about him so you better get onto him. Have you got any large traps available?” Dad asked with a sense of urgency.
    “Yep,” I replied, “I’ve got the big blue one and a black trap sitting at camp ready for action.”
    “Good. You’ll see a piece of silver duct tape in the mangroves where I spotted him last. It looks like the likeliest location for a trap—right on the shallow bend where the high tide goes up into the mangroves,” Dad explained.
    “Yeah, Dad, I know the spot well. I’m surprised that naughty croc is still alive—apparently he’s got a bad habit of sitting under the shade of the mangroves and staring at people fishing. He seems to have a territory over a mile long, and at least one eight-foot female occasionally suns herself with him. I reckon he’ll be an easy croc to trap as he’s got a pretty aggressive air about him.”
    “You be careful, son. I know for a fact this croc’s got a real attitude problem. When I surveyed his territory I could feel his presence the whole time. He’s really bold and isn’t scared to mix it up with bigger males. This is one croc I’d consider as a potential threat. Don’t take any risks or your mother will kill me. She’s right off the idea of you tossing it on your own.”
    “Yeah, Dad. It’s not a problem.”

    Agro territory.
    “Don’t get me wrong,” Dad added jokingly, “ I’m not the slightest bit worried about you. It’s your mother that’s got me shaking in me boots.”
    “I’ll be careful and I’ll give you a ring as soon as I’ve jumped the little fella or caught this agro croc,” I said confidently. “If I don’t have any luck I’ll give you a call in about two weeks. I should’ve run out of fuel about then and will have to come into town anyway.”
    “OK, mate! Take it steady. I’ll talk to you soon,” he replied with concern.
    “See ya, Dad!” I shouted as I hung up the phone.
    Once I’d filled my jerry cans with outboard fuel and diesel for my 4WD, I loaded up with some bare essential groceries and headed back to my camp. Along the way I was daydreaming, pondering the plight of the saltwater crocodile. Almost driving on automatic pilot, my mind was a million miles away, trying to picture what this land was like before mankind came along, and wondering if Australians and visitors to Australia will ever become proud of the largest reptile on the planet.
    Up until the early 1970s crocodile shooting was legal. Crocs were regarded as a pest and countless thousands of them were shot for their belly skins. Crocodiles were considered fair game and were also shot for sport and trophies.
    We should be proud of our crocodiles. Here in Australia we don’t have large predatory mammals such as lions, tigers, or bears; no, we’re in the land of the reptile. The crocodiles are ancient animals dating back sixty-five million years. Today, virtually unchanged, they are modern-day dinosaurs. They’re certainly the kings of Australian fauna.
    Before the arrival of modern man, crocodiles were common from Northern Australia up to Papua New Guinea and Indonesia, through the Malay Peninsula into Thailand and the Bay of Bengal. The wholesale slaughter of crocs since has pushed them to the brink of extinction throughout the majority of their range. It’s only in the Northern Australian region that their numbers can be considered stable.
    Once upon a time these large saurians ruled the waterways, with adult animals having no natural predators except larger, more dominant crocodiles. There was no such thing as an overpopulation of crocs; their intricate social structure and the availability of food kept their numbers in check. It is we humans who have introduced conflict and a breakdown