1962. When I was a boy growing up in Darwin, N.T. there was no real danger from freshwater crocodiles and almost no saltwater crocodiles. We camped where we wanted to camp, we walked in swamps and we slept on the beaches. We did so without fear. With the exception of a few places, we went into the water as and when we pleased, without any concern for our safety. It was a wonderful life.

My real experiences began when I met Harold Harmer, who was born and bred in Darwin. Harold’s family had the first taxi in Darwin. My first sighting of Harold and his brother Norman was at Buffalo Creek. I saw them swimming in the creek at the same time my eyes took in the dead 3 metre saltwater crocodile on the bank. I thought, “Crazy bastards!” Little did I know that Harold would become one of my best friends.  We had some great times and by today’s standards we were a bit extreme, I guess. But that’s the way it was.

With Harold’s encouragement I hunted barefoot in ancient swamps and dark steamy jungles. I remember that in 1963 we hunted in Black Jungle Swamp where the thick green water was so deep that it reached my chest. It was ominous. Snakes slithered through the canopy and huge spiders dropped from above. When wading through the deep water we had to place our bare feet carefully in the thick mud because there were spiky leaves ,fallen from pandanus trees, but there was no thought of monsters.

No, the idea that a huge saltwater crocodile would suddenly lunge from nowhere and kill us did not even enter our heads.