But probably not. These stories are big news in the Top End, the northern most part of the Northern Territory (as the song goes, “You'll never never know, if you never never go”).
Our tour truck-bus was rolling along the old Kakadu track – a wide, well-graded dirt road – on Day 2 of our 3-day tour of Kakadu and Lichfield National Parks, when we were passed first by a police car, then a television crew vehicle. Few other vehicles joined us on this very remote stretch, so we knew something was up.
Our first inkling came from one of our two guides, Flick, who found out somehow of a crocodile attack that happened the day before on the South Alligator River (mis-named by some European – alligators are of the Americas), a river we had crossed a while back. Then, when we had a cell signal again, one of our group found a story on Yahoo: a 62 year old man had been “taken.”
Over the next day or two, we learned more in bits and pieces (no pun intended): that the local man was bending over the back of his fishing boat, dumping a bucket into the river. His family, nearby, heard splashing. The vehicles that passed us were involved in the follow-up investigation, which entailed hunting down and shooting two crocs, one of which had human remains in its stomach, presumably of the most recent victim.
Needless to say, we heard a number of stories of recent “takings” – interesting term, not that someone was killed or eaten, but taken, like some horrible fairy tale – of complacent locals, bravado youth, foolish tourists. Gruesome stuff.
What's ironic, is that our guides were keen on us seeing a Estuarine or saltwater crocodile – the behemoths of the reptile family, reaching lengths of 17 feet plus. (Fresh water crocs also get very big, up to 8 or 9 feet, but are not aggressive and so “less” of a threat to humans – but their teeth are like knife blades!) Not only did we take a sunset cruise on a billabong (a bend in a river that had been cut off from the river itself as waters of the rainy season receded) that was supposed to be prime croc habitat (no crocs, but beautiful herons, storks, and kingfishers), but we stopped a numerous narrow creeks, river crossings, and boat ramps in hopes of sighting these extremely dangerous beings.
When we finally saw two on our last afternoon, it was a bit of a relief, both that the quest was over and that we did so at safe distances!
Our tour truck-bus was rolling along the old Kakadu track – a wide, well-graded dirt road – on Day 2 of our 3-day tour of Kakadu and Lichfield National Parks, when we were passed first by a police car, then a television crew vehicle. Few other vehicles joined us on this very remote stretch, so we knew something was up.
Our first inkling came from one of our two guides, Flick, who found out somehow of a crocodile attack that happened the day before on the South Alligator River (mis-named by some European – alligators are of the Americas), a river we had crossed a while back. Then, when we had a cell signal again, one of our group found a story on Yahoo: a 62 year old man had been “taken.”
Over the next day or two, we learned more in bits and pieces (no pun intended): that the local man was bending over the back of his fishing boat, dumping a bucket into the river. His family, nearby, heard splashing. The vehicles that passed us were involved in the follow-up investigation, which entailed hunting down and shooting two crocs, one of which had human remains in its stomach, presumably of the most recent victim.
Needless to say, we heard a number of stories of recent “takings” – interesting term, not that someone was killed or eaten, but taken, like some horrible fairy tale – of complacent locals, bravado youth, foolish tourists. Gruesome stuff.
What's ironic, is that our guides were keen on us seeing a Estuarine or saltwater crocodile – the behemoths of the reptile family, reaching lengths of 17 feet plus. (Fresh water crocs also get very big, up to 8 or 9 feet, but are not aggressive and so “less” of a threat to humans – but their teeth are like knife blades!) Not only did we take a sunset cruise on a billabong (a bend in a river that had been cut off from the river itself as waters of the rainy season receded) that was supposed to be prime croc habitat (no crocs, but beautiful herons, storks, and kingfishers), but we stopped a numerous narrow creeks, river crossings, and boat ramps in hopes of sighting these extremely dangerous beings.
When we finally saw two on our last afternoon, it was a bit of a relief, both that the quest was over and that we did so at safe distances!
"Taken". What a great euphemism. Sounds kind of like the Rapture, only messier.
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