After much discussion, heated at times, the posse saddled up, and headed off to our
final destination, Darwin. On the way, after gazing, with deep respect, upon the mounds of
the world-renowned magnetic termites. We spotted a sign that read "This way to Humpty
Doo - Home of the Famous Jumping Crocodiles." We pulled into the Hamlet of Humpty
Doo, situated about thirty kilometers off of the main highway, on the Adelaide River. The
large boat pulled up to the dock or jetty, as the Aussies call it; we clamored aboard and
waited for the fun to begin. Somewhat pessimistic, as our recent maritime activities had
proved to be less then climactic, we settled in for an hour and a half of river cruising
and tree watching. Not ten minutes into the trip, the skippers inane, yet comical,
monologue was interrupted by his, whispered in awe, warning "There's one now, keep
your hands in the boat!"
On a piece of twine, dangling from a ten-foot pole, Judy, the "Giligan" of
the tour, hung a large chunk of pig head over the water. The crocodile slithered from the
shore, where he had been baking in the midday sun, working on his own version of "the
tan", and into the murky river; making his way, towards what was left of good ole'
Wilburs snout and face. After a bit of coaxing and teasing the beast lunged out of
the river, closed a huge set of choppers down on the raw porky treat, and descended to the
depths for a little mid-afternoon snack.
This, feeding process, went on for an hour, with crocs of all sizes and deformities
(apparently a crocodile can lose a limb or three in a cannibalistic battle and not bleed
to death). After watching this, our sadistic cravings to watch one animal feast on the
remains of another were satiated (temporarily of course). When the tour was
"finis," we, all together now, piled into the van and drove off to Darwin, for a
little animal flesh browned, and mixed with the juice of a tomato, spread carefully over a
delicate plate of pasta. Or as some call it- spaghetti with meat sauce.