Canning or culling? Life in the crocodile capital of Australia

It’s dawn in Darwin Harbor and government ranger Kelly Ewin, whose job it is to catch and remove crocodiles, is balancing precariously on a floating trap.

Heavy rain clouds from a recently passed storm overhead. The boat’s engine has been turned off, so it’s mostly silent now – that is, except for the occasional splash that comes from inside the trap.

“You’ve got pretty much zero chance with these guys,” Yuin says as he tries to wind the noose around the agitated reptile’s jaw.

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

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

And as you will soon learn here in the New Testament, where there is water, there are usually trees.

Sea crocs – or salties as they are known locally – were nearly wiped out 50 years ago.

After World War II, the uncontrolled trade in their skins skyrocketed and their numbers dwindled to about 3,000.

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

They are still under protection, but no longer a threat.

The recovery of the saltwater crocodile has been so dramatic that Australia now faces another dilemma: manage their numbers to ensure the safety of people and the population.

“The worst thing that could happen is if people turn (against crocodiles),” explains crocodile expert Professor Graham Webb.

“And then the politician will invariably come in with some kind of knee-jerk reaction (that) they’re going to ‘solve’ the crocodile problem.”

The NT’s hot temperatures and rich coastal environment create an ideal habitat for cold-blooded crocodilians, who need warmth to keep their body temperature constant.

There are also large populations of salt marshes in North Queensland and Western Australia, as well as in parts of Southeast Asia.

While most crocodile species are harmless, the Salty is territorial and aggressive.

Fatal incidents in Australia are rare but do happen.

A 12-year-old child was taken last year – the first crocodile death in the North West since 2018.

This is the busiest time of the year for Yuin and his colleagues.

The breeding season has just begun, which means that the herons are on the move.

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

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

Most of the time, crocodiles taken out of the harbor are killed because if they are released elsewhere, they are more likely to return to the harbor.

“Our job is to try to keep people as safe as possible,” says Yuin, who has been doing his “dream job” for two years. Before that, he was a policeman.

“Obviously, we’re not going to catch every crocodile, but the more we take out of the harbor, the lower the risk of encounters between crocodiles and people.”

Another tool that helps maintain civil security is education.

The Northern Kingdom government is getting into schools with its ‘Be Crocwise’ programme, which teaches people how to behave responsibly in the croc habitat.

It was such a success that Florida and the Philippines are now looking to borrow it to better understand how the world’s most dangerous predators can live alongside humans with minimal interactions.

“We live in crocodile country, so it’s about how do we (keep ourselves) safe around the waterways — how do we respond?” says Natasha Hoffman, a ranger who manages the program in the NT.

“When you’re out on the boat, when you’re fishing, you have to know they’re there. They are ambush hunters, they sit, watch and wait. If they have a chance to grab food, that’s what they’re going to do.”

In the NT, mass culling is not currently considered given the protected status of the species.

However, last year the government approved a new 10-year crocodile management plan to help control crocodile numbers, which increased the quota of crocodiles that can be killed each year from 300 to 1,200.

This is in addition to the work Yuin’s team is doing to remove all crocodiles that pose a direct threat to humans.

Every time a death occurs, it reignites the debate about crocodiles living alongside humans.

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 overtake the North West’s human population.

It currently stands at 250,000, far outnumbering wild crocodiles.

This is a conversation that goes beyond the NT.

Queensland is home to about a quarter of the number of crocsies in the Upper North Kingdom, but there are far more tourists and more deaths, meaning talk of culls sometimes features in election debates.

Top predators may be controversial, but they are also a big draw for the NT – for tourists as well as for fashion brands looking to buy their skin.

Visitors can head to the Adelaide River to watch the croc jumps – where salties are fed chunks of meat on the end of a stick as they leap out of the water for their audience.

“I have to tell you to put on (the life jackets),” jokes Spectacular Jumping Croc Cruises head captain Alex “Wookie” Williams as he explains the boat’s house rules.

“I don’t have to tell you that life jackets are completely useless here.”

Obsessed with the Crocs since childhood, Williams has plenty of opportunities to work alongside them.

“It’s boomed in the last 10 years or so,” he says of the number of tourists coming to the region.

Agriculture, which was introduced during the hunting ban, also became an economic engine.

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

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

“Commercial incentives have effectively been put in place to help people tolerate crocodiles because we need a social license to be able to use wildlife,” says Mick Burns, one of the NT’s most prominent farmers who works with luxury brands.

His office is in central Darwin. A huge crocodile skin is spread out on the floor. Attached to the wall of the conference hall is another skin at least four meters long.

Burns is also involved in a ranch in remote Arnhem Land, about 500 km (310 miles) east of Darwin. There he works with Aboriginal rangers to harvest and hatch crocodile eggs to sell their hides to the luxury goods industry.

One of the area’s traditional owners, Otto Bulmania Campion, who works alongside Burns, says more partnerships like theirs are critical to ensuring Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people can share in the industry’s financial benefits.

For tens of thousands of years, steps have played a significant role in indigenous cultures, shaping their sacred histories, lives, and livelihoods.

“My father, all the elders went to harpoon crocodiles, get the skin, go and exchange it for tea, flour and sugar. (However) there was no money at the time,” says the Balngarra man.

“Now we want to see our own reptilian people.”

But not everyone embraces farming as a practice – even though participants say it helps preserve nature.

Animal rights activists are concerned about how crocs are kept in captivity.

Although they are social animals, they are usually kept in separate pens to ensure their hides are immaculate – as a scrap between two territorial crocs is almost certain to damage the prized commodity.

Everyone in Darwin has a story about these formidable creatures, whether they wish they were hunted in greater numbers or more strictly preserved.

But the threat they continue to pose is not apparent.

“If you go (swimming in) the Adelaide River near Darwin, there’s a 100% chance you’ll get killed,” Professor Webb says bluntly.

“The only question is whether it takes five minutes or 10 minutes. I don’t think you’ll ever make it to 15 – you’re going to get ripped,” he adds, lifting his trouser leg to reveal a huge scar. on a calf – evidence of a close encounter with one angry female almost forty years ago when he was collecting eggs.

He does not condone what he calls the pragmatism of the authorities to rule the numbers and make money from Croxals – a way of life that, at least for the foreseeable future, will continue.

“We’ve done something that very few people can do, which is to take a very serious predator … and then manage it in a way that the public is willing to (tolerate) them.

“You’re trying to get people in Sydney, London or New York to put up with a serious predator – they’re not going to do that.”