The Crocodile Hunter: The Incredible Life and Adventures of Steve and Terri Irwin (13 page)

The big day-we were married in Oregon.

Even as the staff were rushing to Steve’s aid, it was all over. Channel 10 rushed to Brisbane with the footage and Steve was rushed to hospital. Graham’s teeth had punctured holes completely through Steve’s hand. Steve carefully explained to me that night that he’d made a mistake but this wasn’t an easy situation for me to handle. It was a mistake that could have cost Steve his life. I felt a real sense of urgency to be with him again.

June was upon me almost before I realized it. Steve landed safely in Eugene, Oregon, with eight of his family and friends from Australia. We breezed through two days of rehearsals, dinners, and meeting with the minister. Then it was our wedding day.

The church was filled as nearly four hundred people came to wish us well. Even the minister seemed nervous as we stood ready to exchange our vows. When we were finally proclaimed man and wife, a great calm came over me and I knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I had made the right choice. I was joined with my soulmate for life.

The next day we prepared for our first adventure. After a whirlwind tour of Oregon, we headed back to Australia to begin filming our first wildlife documentary. A river system in North Queensland was the scene of an age-old conflict between humans and crocodiles. If we didn’t get there quickly the situation could become critical—and it was the crocodiles that stood to lose.

Our proud parents at the wedding: my mom, Judy; Steve’s dad, Bob; me and Steve; Steve’s mom, Lyn, and my dad, Clarence.

On the Road

S
teve had been teaching me about crocodile behavior at the Park, but now I was about to embark on my first real experience with crocodiles in the bush. I was excited, but also a little nervous as we headed out.

We arrived at Camp Chilli in time to set up camp. There were six of us on this film shoot: the director, cameraman, soundman, Wes Mannion (Steve’s best mate and one of our Park staff ), and of course myself and Steve. We were well prepared for the tropical evening with a good supply of mosquito repellent. I have to admit that the mossies were most impressive: they positively seemed to drink the stuff. Not only did they seem immune to bug spray, they were able to bite through anything. Even the lawn chairs! And there were millions of them.

Through the night I listened to the sounds of koalas courting, fruit bats fighting, and herds of pigs moving around close to camp. Being a bit nervous about leaving the tent, I was eager to grab the dunny roll and find a nice, private bush first thing in the morning. I did not, however, expect to have to share my spot. Much to my shock I nearly stood on a huge, shiny snake. I must have startled him as much as he scared me because he reared up, flattened his neck, and hissed. I lost all thoughts of having to relieve myself.

Steve came running when he heard me yelling for help and the cameraman was right on his heels. Having heard so many stories of Australia’s taipan, I was sure that this was the snake I had disturbed. Steve assured me that it actually was a red-bellied black snake. Still quite venomous, but not as deadly as the taipan. So, dunny roll still in hand, I watched as Steve moved the huge snake safely away from our camp. It wasn’t a terribly glamorous way to begin our filming, but it sure got my heart going! I also found it incredibly romantic to have my husband actually save my life on our honeymoon.

After recovering from that little heart starter, we got down to business. We had a job to do and that was locating and rescuing a large crocodile that was making local residents a bit nervous. We spent hours searching the river system for signs of the crocodile’s presence. I was amazed to learn that, in spite of the wealth of wildlife living on the river, we’d have to film for hours on end just to get enough footage to edit down to a one-hour program.

The turning point on this trip came when we discovered that someone had beaten us to the big crocodile and had shot him dead. That evening we even discussed going home. But with other large crocodiles in the area, most of them female, we knew that they, too, would be in jeopardy. It became a race against time. We would have to try to relocate the dead crocodile’s mate before the shooters got to her. Everyone’s spirits lifted a bit as we tried to focus on our new goal instead of the tragedy we’d just witnessed.

The reality of the situation was that it could take weeks or even months to catch her. She would know what had happened to her mate and would now be more elusive than ever.

I was tired at the end of our first day of trying to locate her. We’d searched the river system for signs of her until the tide went out. Just on dark, still several hundreds of feet from camp, we literally ran out of water. We got out of the boat and proceeded to drag and float it the rest of the distance. Steve told me to hang on tight to the edge of the boat. Sometimes we would walk right into a deep hole and abruptly sink in the chest-deep water. There was always a bit of a risk of landing on a crocodile!

Steve and Sui take a break from the outback heat.

By the time we made it back, I could barely climb the steep, muddy bank and weave my way through the mangroves to camp. The fireflies were just beginning to wink on and off as Steve and I joined the camera crew, falling in a heap around the fire. We looked a motley crew, thickly covered with mud from the knees down, but the lovely thing about the mud was that it helped to keep the swarms of mosquitos at bay.

It was now far too dark to risk going anywhere near the creek for a tub. As I was contemplating this, I noticed that things had gone quiet. I looked up at the crew and there were five pairs of eyes looking back at me. I knew I must look quite a sight, but I couldn’t figure out why these five men just kept staring. Suddenly, the light dawned. Dinner! It was dinnertime and they were all looking at me!

I tried to quell the panic that was welling up inside. No one had mentioned that I’d be cooking, too. It would have been awkward enough if I had been in a fully stocked kitchen—to this day I am not exactly hailed for my cooking ability—but cooking for six of us over an open fire was beyond my comprehension. This was definitely a tough moment, but after admitting my lack of experience, everyone pitched in and dinner was served. We ended up taking turns to wash up.

Later that night, after a luxurious bath in a bucket of cold salt water, Steve noticed a beautiful little ringtail possum. We decided to film the charming fellow and discovered that he had brought his family along, too. The mother possum was high up a nearby tree with her joey on her back. We set up lights to film them and got about three hours of them happily munching leaves. Steve was so impressed with how calm they were that he decided to climb the tree to try and get the camera a bit closer. This was our only option as the tree was very difficult to climb and Steve was the only one of us, besides the possums, who could do it.

My introduction to the bush,—Aussie-style.

When Steve got as close as he thought he should to the mother possum, he settled in on a larger branch and prepared to film. That’s when I noticed something moving on him. I grabbed the binoculars for a better look and was horrified to see Steve teeming with ants. These ants weren’t black, they were a light green color. And there were literally hundreds of them all over Steve’s body. When I pointed out the obvious to Steve, he suggested that I examine some that were close to me on a tree limb. I scooped up a few which immediately decided that they didn’t like being disturbed, and they began to bite my hands. It was a most incredible sensation. Almost like being stabbed with a hot needle! I began to do the green ant dance until I successfully shook every one off me. My entire green ant experience took only a few seconds, and yet Steve had been up in that tree with them for nearly an hour!

Steve captures a juvenile saltwater crocodile in the mangroves.

Steve had decided to show me a bit of bush tucker for breakfast, so you can imagine my dismay when he strolled into camp cradling a very large nest of green ants. Not again! But I must admit, I was most impressed when he stirred a few around in a glass of water. It tasted like lemonade. All I had to do was ignore the few hanging off my lips!

After a quick bite of breakfast, we prepared to head out on the river to continue searching for our female crocodile. The sun was barely up but we could all feel the heat. The flies began to buzz around in earnest now and I couldn’t wait to escape them by zipping downstream in the boat. No sooner had we loaded the camera gear than we turned to find an unexpected visitor in camp. A lace monitor, attracted by our rubbish bin, had wandered in to look for food scraps. He was a delightful little fellow and looked so sweet as he flicked his forked tongue in and out, trying to pick up some scent particles that would lead him to a meal.

We decided to postpone our boat trip and film this little rascal instead. I was thrilled to get to pick him up and do a piece to the camera, explaining how special this lizard was. After all, none of Australia’s lizards are venomous, so I felt quite safe. It was only after the “lacey” had finished exploring our camp and had wandered off that Steve bothered to mention that the lace monitor has teeth like a tiger shark. If even this small one had bitten me, it would have meant stitches.

Several days of searching passed before we finally found positive signs of our female crocodile. High up on the bank Steve spotted a mound of leaves. This was the nest site of our girl. She would have to be close, perhaps even watching us now. Near this location, at a likely sunning bank, Steve decided to set the trap.

The trap is made of sixteen-ton trawler mesh. It is designed to allow the crocodile easy access to a food item which, when grabbed, sets off a weight bag that falls from a tree, drawing the mouth of the trap shut. The trap is secured to a tree so that the crocodile can’t walk off with it, and there they sit, caught in a giant sock, until we retrieve them. It sounds rather simple, but it took Steve and me the entire day to set it up.

Steve had told me there was no way our crocodile was just going to walk right in. We’d have to make her comfortable with this strange new thing in her environment. To do that, Steve would utilize a lead-in bait. The plan was to secure a fist-sized piece of meat on the end of a string and dangle it over the water. Gradually, the crocodile would become accustomed to these free handouts and would lose her fear of the presence of the trap.

First thing the next morning we headed out to bait up our crocodile trap. When we arrived at the site, there was very little sign of crocodile. The croc was still in the vicinity, but was probably being a bit cautious. Steve tied the piece of pork to a string. The string was then attached to a stick and the stick shoved in the mud, right in front of the trap. Now our lovely crocodile girl would get a free snack and maybe she would begin to lose her fear of the trap.

With the bait set, there was nothing to do but wait. Crocodiles are nocturnal so we wouldn’t return to check on the lead-in bait until the following morning. Instead, we went with the film crew to explore more wildlife along the river.

Big Sky country: where to next?

As the day warmed up we began to keep an eye out for reptiles. Most people believe that reptiles are only seen on warm days because they are “cold blooded.” Actually, their blood is not cold, but reptiles simply can’t regulate their own body temperature as mammals can. In order to warm up, a reptile must get into the sun. If a reptile is too hot, it cannot sweat to cool down—it must get out of the sun or into the water. This makes it a very efficient animal. Some reptiles can go long periods without food because they do not rely on the energy from food to warm their bodies, as we mammals do.