‘But you did it?’
‘In my younger day, sure.Not now, I wouldn’t.Crocodiles are a thousand times more cunning.They’re not shy like they were, back in the day when I hunted them.’Chook nodded at the bask of crocodiles occupying the opposite bank.
‘What is the best way to hunt for eggs?Stone walked us in through his swamp to find a nest, but I keep hearing about a sling.’
‘First, you start by finding a chopper and a crazy pilot.But you’d want a pilot smart enough to take calculated risks.One who is skilled enough to get into some of these places, and use them chopper blades in a croc fight if they have to.’
‘Like Stone?’Her chest squeezed at the thought of Stone in a crocodile fight.
Chook nodded.‘Then you get a crazier daredevil to play passenger princess.They’re the ones who live off the adrenaline, wearing a harness like one of them rock climbers do.They then get clipped to the sling line that runs under the helicopter, where they’ll swing free in the air, holding a rod, stick or a spear in one hand, and a plastic crate, bucket or an esky in the other.And then the fun and games begin…’
He paused, gazing over the river that flowed past them.‘First, they get lowered, right over the nest, in places that are the furthest thing from paradise.Filled with mud, leeches, and mozzies, most of those places have no shade.So, you’ve got the outback sun beating down on you—and this is in the summer, mind you, where the humidity is nothing less than a hundred per cent, so thick it’s like swampy soup.Not forgetting you’ve got the ever-present danger of the croc comin’ at you.It’s no picnic.’
‘They do it with the crocodiles there?’That squeeze got tighter around her ribs, making her breathing shallower.
‘They’ll use that stick like a blunt sword and the crate they’re carrying as a shield to fend off the monsters.’
‘Like knights and dragons?’If only she could write all this down.‘What is the helicopter doing?’
‘Watching all from above to drag them out of there as quickly as they can.But sometimes you get the odd cowboy who’ll unclip themselves, saying they need to listen for the mother.While some reckon the helicopter attracts the attention of the mother and will tell the chopper to leave so they can dig out the nest for them eggs.But you get a good pilot, he won’t leave them, he’ll be ready with a trigger finger to drag his partner out of there.’
‘Sounds terrifying.’Romy exhaled deeply to ease the tightness in her chest.
‘It’s one of the most frightening things a man could ever do.’Chook patted over his heart as he said, ‘your adrenaline pumps so hard, you lose a coupla kilos from one outing, compared to months in a gym.’
‘Why do they do it?Besides the adrenaline rush.’
‘It helps keep the croc numbers down.’
‘Stone says most of those babies struggle to survive in the wild.’
‘They’ve got their challenges.There’s the gas plant, the mines, the fishing nets… wild buffalo, pigs, goannas—and humans, building houses where nests used to be.And I’ve lived here long enough to see the saltwater creeping further up the river, pushing into places it never used to.’
‘What does that mean for the crocodiles?’
‘It’s bloody well dangerous, is what it is.’His sun-hardened wrinkles deepened as he scowled at the river.‘Coz now the salties are adapting.Them river rats are turning up in places they’ve got no business being…’ Again, he nodded at the bask across the river, sunbaking in the sun.‘It only takes the blink of an eye before a wild croc will strike.They’re a creature of opportunity and will take it fast.Now, just imagine that ten times worse when they’ve got that motherly instinct kicking in.It’s what makes them one of Australia’s deadliest creatures, who aren’t afraid of anything.’
‘So why risk it by taking those eggs?’
‘Ever heard the story about the goose that laid golden eggs?
‘Sure.’
‘Well, in the Territory, it’s croc eggs.One day’s decent haul of egg collecting and you can walk away with thousands lining your pockets.’
Well, that explained how Stone could afford the luxurious home and toys.
‘You’ve just gotta be full of courage, and smart enough to do it, or you’ll end up being croc bait.’
‘I’ve been told that the government is banning the slings.Why is that?’
‘One of ‘em croc-hunters got chewed.’Chook ran a hand over his plaited silver beard, like he was wiping away his smile.‘Over a year back.Good fella, too.’
‘Do you know what happened?’
‘He unclipped himself.Only cowboys unclip themselves.’Chook sighed, the wrinkles shifting downward as his voice lost all its humour.Only to wipe his nose and stare across the river.‘Ever seen a muster chopper dance with cattle during a muster?It’s a dance on the air.And watching a croc wrangler dancing with a feisty croc—it’s the stuff of legends.’
‘I’m hoping I might get the chance one day.’And being able to keep that film footage would help, too.
