Save or delete? Life in Australia’s crocodile capital

It’s sunrise over Darwin Harbor and government ranger Kelly Evan – whose job it is to catch and remove crocodiles – is balancing precariously on a floating net.

Heavy rain clouds are overhead from a recent storm. The boat’s engine has been cut so it’s now mostly silent – ​​that is, apart from the occasional splash coming from inside the trap.

“You’ve got zero chance with these guys,” Evan says as he tries to put a noose around the enraged reptile’s jaws.

We are in Australia’s Northern Territory (NT), which is home to an estimated 100,000 wild saltwater crocodiles, more than anywhere else in the world.

The capital, Darwin, is a small coastal city surrounded by beaches and wetlands.

And, as you quickly learn here in the NT, where there is water, there are usually crocs.

Saltwater crocs – or salties, as they are known by locals – were hunted to extinction about 50 years ago.

After World War II, their uncontrolled fur trade increased and numbers dropped to around 3,000.

But when hunting was banned in 1971, the population began to grow again – and quickly.

They are still a protected species, but no longer threatened.

The recovery of saltwater crocodiles has been so dramatic that Australia now faces a different dilemma: managing their numbers to keep people safe and the population together.

“The worst thing that can happen is when people turn away. [against crocodiles]” explains Crook expert Professor Graham Webb.

“And then a politician will always come up with some knee-jerk reaction. [that] They are going to ‘solve’ the crocodile problem.”

The NT’s warm temperatures and abundant coastal environment make it the perfect habitat for cold-blooded crocs, which need warmth to maintain their body temperature.

Northern Queensland and Western Australia, as well as parts of Southeast Asia, also have large saltwater populations.

Although most crocodile species are harmless, the salami is territorial and aggressive.

Fatalities are rare in Australia, but they do happen.

Last year, a 12-year-old boy was taken – the first crocodile death in the NT since 2018.

It’s the busiest time of the year for Evan and his colleagues.

Breeding season has just begun, which means the salties are on the rise.

His team is out on the water several times a week, checking 24 crocodile traps around the city of Darwin.

The area is popular for fishing as well as some adventurous swimmers.

Crocodiles removed from the harbor are often killed, because if they are released elsewhere, they are likely to return to the harbor.

“It’s our job to try and keep people as safe as possible,” says Evan, who has been doing his “dream job” for two years. Before that he was a police officer.

“Obviously, we’re not going to catch every crocodile, but the more we get out of the harbor, the less the risk of collisions with crocodiles and people.”

Another tool to help keep the public safe is education.

The NT Government goes into schools with its “Be Crocwise” program – which teaches people how to behave responsibly around croc habitats.

It’s been such a success that Florida and the Philippines are now trying to borrow it, to better understand how the world’s most dangerous predators can live with minimal human interaction.

“We’re living in crocodile country, so it’s about how we are. [keep ourselves] Safe around waterways – how should we respond?” says Natasha Hoffman, a ranger who runs the program in the NT.

“If you’re on a boat while fishing, you need to be aware that they’re there. They’re ambush predators, they sit, watch and wait. If For them to have something to eat, that’s what they’re going to do.”

In the NT, large-scale harvesting is not currently on the table given the species’ protected status.

Last year, however, the government approved a new 10-year crocodile management plan to help control crocodile numbers, increasing the quota of crocodiles that can be killed from 300 to 1,200 a year.

Avon’s team is working to remove crocodiles that pose a direct threat to humans.

Every time a death occurs, it reignites the debate about crocodiles living near people.

In the days after the 12-year-old girl was taken last year, then-territory leader Eva Lawler made it clear she would not allow the reptiles to outnumber the NT’s human population.

Currently it is 250,000, which is significantly higher than the number of wild crocs.

This is a conversation that goes beyond the NT.

Queensland has about a quarter of the number of crocs in the NT’s Top End, but far more tourists, and more deaths, which means totals sometimes feature in election debates.

Top poachers may court controversy, but they are also a big drawcard for the NT – for tourists but also for fashion brands keen to buy their leather.

Visitors can head to the Adelaide River to watch “croc jumping” – in which saltwater fish are fed chunks of meat on the end of a stick if they can jump out of the water for an audience.

“I want to tell you that you are mine [life-jackets] On,” quips head captain of the Spectacular Jumping Croc Cruise, Alex ‘Wookie’ Williams, as he explains the boat’s house rules.

“I don’t need to tell you… [is that] Life jackets are absolutely useless here.”

For Williams, who has been obsessed with Crocs since childhood, there are plenty of opportunities to work with them.

“It’s grown a lot in the last 10 years,” he says of the number of tourists coming to the area.

Farming, brought in when hunting was banned, has also become an economic driver.

It is estimated that there are now about 150,000 crocodiles in captivity in the NT.

Fashion labels such as Louis Vuitton and Hermès – which sell a Birkin 35 Croc handbag for as much as A$800,000 ($500,000; £398,000) – have all invested in the industry.

“Commercial incentives were effectively implemented to help people sustain fish, because we need a social license to use wildlife,” says Mick Burns, one of the NT’s most prominent farmers. Says those who work with luxury brands.

Its office is in the city of Darwin. There is a large croc skin spread on the floor. Attached to the wall of the conference room, is another skin that stretches for at least four meters.

Burns is also involved with a farm in remote Arnhem Land, about 500 km (310 mi) east of Darwin. There, he works with local rangers to harvest and hatch croc eggs to sell their skins to the luxury goods industry.

One of the area’s traditional owners, Otto Balmania Campion, who works with Burns, says more partnerships like his are important to ensure the industry’s financial benefits to Torres Strait and Torres Islander communities. I am involved.

For tens of thousands of years, crocuses have played an important role in local cultures, shaping their sacred stories, lives and livelihoods.

“My father, all elders, used to go and harpoon crocodiles, get skins, and trade for tea, flour and sugar. [However] There was no money back then,” says the Balingara man.

“Now, we want to see our people handling reptiles.”

But not everyone is on board with farming as a practice — even if those involved say it helps with conservation.

Animal activists are concerned that crocs are kept in captivity.

Despite being social animals, they are usually confined to individual pens to ensure their skins are immaculate – as a scuffle between two territorial crocs will almost certainly result in damage to a valuable item. .

Everyone in Darwin has a story about these mighty creatures, regardless of whether they want to see them hunted in greater numbers or more tightly guarded.

But the danger they pose is not even imagined.

“If you go [swimming in] The Adelaide River next to Darwin, there’s a 100 per cent chance you’ll get killed,” Professor Webb said matter-of-factly.

“The only question is whether it will take five minutes or 10. I don’t think you’ll ever get to 15 – you’ll explode,” he said, pulling up his trouser leg to reveal a huge scar. What did On his calf—evidence of a close encounter with an angry woman nearly forty years ago while he was collecting eggs.

He is unapologetic about what he calls the pragmatism of the authorities to manage the numbers and make money off the crocs along the way – a way of life that, for the foreseeable future, at least, here. is to stay.

“We’ve done what very few people can do, which is a very serious predator… and then manage them in a way that the public is ready for. [tolerate] them

“You try and get people in Sydney or London or New York to confront a serious predator – they won’t do it.”