The Crocodile Hunter: The Incredible Life and Adventures of Steve and Terri Irwin (11 page)

The following morning Steve arrived late to pick me up. Although he had just been getting some work done at the park and letting me sleep in, I was sure that he was losing interest in me. But, later, as Steve drove me back to Brisbane for my last night in Australia, I had to admit this was something much more than a chance meeting. It felt like fate.

As the plane left the ground departing for the U.S., I reflected on the past week and wondered what would happen next. And, yes, I got my kiss!

It was a cold autumn night not long after I returned to Oregon that I got a call from that familiar Aussie voice. Steve and I talked a bit, catching up with how all of our animals were doing, as well as how much we missed each other. Then he totally surprised me by announcing that he would be coming over for a ten-day visit in a month’s time. I couldn’t believe it! I immediately made arrangements to take time off work and started counting the days until he arrived.

The day before Steve’s arrival I finalized my welcoming plans. I bought a new dress and rented a limousine to pick him up from the airport. A dear friend of mine, Cathy, even helped me get my house together so everything was perfect for Steve’s arrival. Everything was perfect, all right, except Steve. He wasn’t feeling well, poor guy. While I was excited to show him the town, he just wanted a rest!

Steve’s trip to Oregon allowed him to enjoy a variety of wildlife very different to his beloved Australian creatures.

The next day Steve was feeling his old self again and we loaded the car to take off and see Oregon. Now it was my turn to show Steve around. As we headed east through the Cascade Mountains, Steve was thrilled to get to stop and explore a beaver dam. Squirrels and raccoons were a new thrill, too. The wildlife in the Pacific Northwest is radically different from the wildlife Down Under.

We spent a magical ten days together and, once again, it was painful to part. I promised Steve that I would come over for another visit as soon as I had the money. Meanwhile, Telecom profited highly, as we spoke by phone nearly every day.

Steve’s visit had been in November. Now it was January 1992 and I was landing in Brisbane again.

Raccoons were a new thrill for Steve.

I stayed with Steve’s family at the park for four weeks. Most of the time I was there we worked together. Since I wanted to help clean enclosures Steve said that I would have to be properly introduced to a baby crocodile! Steve gently picked up a neonate croc, held it out to me, and with a smile told me to let it bite me. At first I thought I must have misunderstood. I mean, sure, this croc was only about seven inches long, but wouldn’t it hurt? Steve patiently explained that I needed to learn not to jerk my hand away if I was bitten because I could severely damage the little croc. I could see his point. I didn’t want to fling one halfway across the room if it latched hold of me! I gritted my teeth and held out my hand. I felt a little pinch, but this tiny croc could barely even break the skin.

A neonate crocodile.

After spending time acquainting myself with the park’s inhabitants (both staff and animals), Steve announced that we would be going bush. I was terribly excited and a little bit nervous at the thought. Steve packed the truck and we headed north. Steve wanted to survey the crocodiles in a river system that represented their southernmost stronghold. Of course, we took along little Sui. It was her job to sit in the truck and jealously glare at me!

Upon reaching the river, we had about an hour and a half of four-wheel driving to reach Steve’s favorite campsite. With the road washed out into gullies in some places and the boat making us extremely top-heavy, the drive was treacherous at times.

We arrived in time to set up camp before the sun went down. Beautiful boulders spread out into the river before me, worn smooth over the years during times of flood. Steve selected this spot years ago when he first came here to catch problem crocs. Since then he’d been coming here regularly. He knew this river like the back of his hand.

When it got dark, Steve got the boat ready to go out and spot crocodiles. Since crocs are primarily nocturnal, nighttime on the water is both the best time and most dangerous time to spot them. Steve packed two spotlights and batteries along with our other gear. He showed me how best to see the crocodiles’ eyeshine by holding the spotlight right under my nose. The night was very dark and the overhanging trees looked eerie as we dimmed our spotlights to scan for the glowing red eyes of the crocodiles. As we traveled upriver, the insects were attracted to the spotlights by the thousands. I felt them in my hair, down my shirt, and fluttering all over my face, yet I barely noticed them for the splashing by our boat. Every now and then something would splash like it was up having a look at us and then would make a hasty retreat. Steve seemed to sense that I was uneasy. He explained that the river was full of tortoises, fish, and frogs and that we weren’t close to any crocodiles yet.

As we continued upriver, Steve started spotting crocodiles. Over the next two or three hours, Steve pointed out several. Most were small—six to eight feet in length—and quite shy. But the last one we saw, the furthest up the river, was enormous. It would definitely have been over ten feet in length and, try as we might, we could only pick up the eyeshine of one of its eyes. After pursuing it for several minutes, we decided it must have been injured—possibly shot. It was marvelously elusive, though, so it could have been an old injury.

Me and Sui looking for crocs.

As Steve turned the boat to return to camp he had his hands full. He was trying to maneuver the boat, spotlight the crocodile, and answer my millionth whispered question. As a result, the boat became lodged in a huge patch of weeds. Steve instructed me to conserve our battery power. In a blink we were left with no moonlight, no spotlight—only complete darkness. While Steve negotiated the boat, I looked up at the billions of winking stars until my eyes adjusted. My senses seemed to sharpen. The river was alive with movement and I became aware of every little action around me, even as the hairs stood up on the back of my neck! As the fruit bats flapped noisily above, I don’t think I’d ever felt so alive.

Steve and me rafting.

Steve soon dislodged the boat and we were on our way again. I put aside my fantasies of monstrous crocodiles stalking us from every side and concentrated on the beauty of this nighttime world. We floated along in total darkness for a while until Steve needed the spotlight again to light the way. For the first time I noticed the tiny bats flitting right in front of my nose catching the insects attracted to the light. As we approached camp I wished this night would never end. And I felt I understood the passion that drove Steve to protect such river systems and the crocodiles that lived in them. I’d endured too much adrenaline for one day. I tried to stay awake and watch the stars, but obviously didn’t manage to because the next thing I knew, it was morning.

Steve cooked a beautiful breakfast over the fire and we discussed our plans for the day. Sui loved nothing more than helping Steve search for pigs to check out their growing numbers in the area, and also survey the damage they were doing to the environment. As it was getting late in the morning, the day was really warming up. Steve said that it was far too hot for pigs to be out and about, but Sui should be able to flush them out of the rubber vine. This vine, like the pigs, has taken over in some areas of the country. It’s extremely dangerous for a dog to enter it with a pig as the vine is far too dense for a dog to maneuver through. However, it’s perfect for the pigs. They move through these chokingly thick bushes with apparent ease. In a large patch of rubber vine, humans are at risk as well.

We took the boat across the river and began our search for pigs on the other side. There was plenty of evidence from the multitude of tracks that we were in an area that had been frequented by pigs only days ago. It was Sui that picked up the fresh tracks. She began yelping in earnest, as if telling Steve to hurry up. Steve disappeared ahead of me and I could hear him crashing through the bush, catching up with his dog. I ran as fast as I could through the pressing heat.

I started to feel as if my chest was being constricted; it was hard to get air and I wasn’t sure how much farther I could go on when I heard Steve yell something from up ahead. I couldn’t hear what he said, so I ran a little further and stopped to call out to him. Steve was yelling at me to continue to call out my location. He and Sui were right on the pigs now and he didn’t want me to get caught by them running back my way. This made me run all the harder. I figured it would be a really good idea if Steve could see me as well as hear me!

All at once I broke into a small clearing and the thick vine around me was alive with motion. Pigs started bursting out of the vine and charged right past me. I yelled out to Steve. He was close, just on the other side of a large section of vine, and he told me to look for a sturdy tree. I heard the urgency in his voice and looked around to see nothing but vine. I started to run, but more pigs came rushing out of the vine so I stood perfectly still, frozen like a statue. As suddenly as the frenzy started, it stopped. Not a sound could be heard, just my own breathing. I called out to Steve, but he was already on his way over to me. After a brief discussion to check that we were both OK, it suddenly occurred to both of us at the same time that Sui’s barking had stopped. We had a quick look around and called out to her, but still there was nothing.