In a way, my theory was wrong. I went to Australia Zoo with the ever-awesome Martha because I was worried we wouldn’t have enough time on our later class field trip. No, we certainly had time; we just chose to spend it with one animal and one man.
Professor Craig Franklin (who’s name I always desperately pray I don’t say as Larry Craig – its just a reflex) has become a very famous man as of late. If you’re as obsessive about the Crocodile Hunter as my friend John is, you’ve probably seen the episode “Search For A Super Croc” at least once. I think I can claim 3 times. In it, they try to find and trap the largest crocs in the York Peninsula they can find to attach satellite trackers.
Now I’ll need to go back a 4th time to try and spot Craig. Little did I know our guest lecturer was also the man responsible for this groundbreaking research. As he chatted with us, sharing his dangerous and breathtaking close calls, astounding raw data, and intimately personal campfire stories of Steve before the very end, we knew we had to get to know this man better, just as he’d acquainted us with Bananahead, Nesbit, Supercroc, and Steve Irwin.
In short, me and John cornered him in class and talked his ear off, stalking him all the way across campus to the bus stop. The man was brilliant, fascinating, humble, and apparently quite patient with his two-person bratty fanclub. I think John was trying to suck up in case he wanted to come back work under him for a PhD. Cant say I wasn’t doing the same. But eventually we had to part, with promise he’d lead our later trip to Australia Zoo.
Larry Craig… err, I mean Daniel Craig… err, Craig Franklin was a no-show. We were assigned a cute and perky young tour guide, but we doubted she’d have the heft to get us back stage like Craig. Nor could we pick his vast brain or suck up more. Very disappointing. That’s why this blog post isn’t about him. Psych!
The beginning of the day was pretty average, and despite the trivia-spewing of our tour guide, very much the same as last time. The cassowaries were still threatening, the koalas were still high (Though, we saw a rare sight of one actually moving! Walking on the ground, no less! Fancy that), and the kangaroos still had deep psyche complexes from being hassled by children day in and day out. Considering we didn’t pay a cent, it wasn’t a bad way to spend a morning.
When our group was taken to the requisite Crocoseum show, I knew I’d need to spice it up somehow. So, when the time was right, I got out of my seat, slipped out the back, and made my way to the croc enclosures. Looking over them all, lined in a row, was a young man. Judging from the khaki, I guessed he was a zoo volunteer, just curious like me. Turns out he’s actually younger than me, single, a Scorpio, and an experienced crocodile keeper. The newest member of the Croc Men. They fascinated me, catching and keeping some of the biggest and most dangerous wildlife on earth, and here this one isn’t even 20.
As they prepared to release Norman into the canal, John came running. Once again, we had the same idea. A real Shinichi-Heiji dynamic the two of us have going, despite the fact I make sour cream look like coffee ice cream.
It was all a bit anticlimactic, but we learned Graham was up this afternoon. Graham, for those not in the know, is a very infamous crocodile. He is the only captive to have ever bit Steve, and on one dark and scary evening, it nearly killed Wes, settling on just stealing a large piece of ass flesh. We couldn’t wait to meet him.
First though, our class was given talks by some of the keepers. A parrot and his human stopped by. Followed by two eye candy keepers and their respective cuddling koalas, as well as a cheeky possum. The two Croc Men from the show came around with their pettable alligator, but the highlight had to be the reptile keeper and his two snakes.
While everyone was still a little scared, I broke the dam by asking to hold the endangered Woma Python. It rested its head on my palm as a sign of comfort, and let me pick it up and hold it to everyone. It responded by licking my face. After that, everyone was antsy to hold it and the Carpet Python. Considering I’ve had a number of encounters with that pleasant serpent, I let everyone else enjoy it, watching with amusement as the python crowd surfed along the laps of everyone sitting at the bench. I think even the most snake-hating among us learned to like these friendly slithering beauties.
Armed with an hour of free time, most of the class chose to visit the previously-neglected tigers. John and I debated, but decided we’d much rather watch Graham in action. We returned in time to see the gate rolled up, and the angry dinosaur lumber out of its cage. Even from our safe perch 20 feet up, I felt a little intimidated. Our young Croc Man was back, still smiling, while a grumpy looking old fellow in khaki watched silently.
Graham’s performance was, to be honest, lazy. Even the crowd could sense it. The crocodile, instead of bursting out of the water like Norman or Mossman, strolled out of the water with no apparent hurry or aggression, and opened its mouth to have a piece of meat thrown in. Was this the same beast who nearly claimed Wes’ life?
After the show, we went to take a closer look. For some reason, they weren’t letting Graham back out. The old man stood at the gate, calling on his walkie-talkie, while the croc just stared up at him. Air bubbles slowly leaked out of its face from an unhealed bite injury decades before. Graham stared up at the old man with an intense hate, opened its mouth to reveal dozens of sharp teeth, and gently head bashed the gate, revealing just how much potential he had if he wanted. We suddenly realized what Graham really was. The lazy act was simply because he knew he wouldn’t have to put any effort in to getting the food. The younger crocs hadn’t learned that yet. Graham was old, immensely powerful, and most frightening of all, experienced and highly cunning. He wanted to kill his captors, and nearly succeeded twice.
Curious about the man at whom the crocodile carried so much contempt, we went down and struck up a conversation. His name was Fred.
Fred is the zoo’s main groundskeeper, and has been for almost 12 years. If that doesn’t seem like a big deal, his side job is being the oldest and most experienced of the Croc Men. In reality, being a crocodile keeper is mainly just being a glorified gardener, mowing their enclosures and occasionally feeding them for the public. The only big difference is that angry crocs would occasionally lash our and destroy their lawn mowers.
But Fred was more than a landscaper; he was vital to the zoo. If Wes was Steve’s right hand man, and Terri was his left hand mate, Fred was behind him, covering his ass. For almost half an hour, he entertained us with stories of Steve and Wes’ hijinx, and the role he played that nobody in the public knew about. I think he preferred being a no-name. But, whether he was being a gardener, a croc catcher, a security guard, a wildlife rescuer and rehabilitator, a celebrity ambassador, or helping Steve turn a large tract of weeds into a beautiful new koala hospital or tiger breeding center, he was always in the center of things. Hell, the zoo curator is his daughter!
He certainly didn’t pull any punches just because we were visitors. He cursed like a sailor, and told us he shares this trait with Prince Harry. He called Justin Timberlake out on being a total wuss with snakes, and rightfully declared Christina Aguilera a “total bitch”. He’d hobnobbed with Presidents and Prime Ministers, celebrities of all shades, and even the Dali Lama, and still retained his gruff but personable style fitting to a real bushman. We soaked up his stories until the minute we had to leave. But, we were left with a little surprise.
The reason Graham was being held in the Crocoseum was so they could replace his enclosure gate with a shiny new door. The Croc Men (who are apparently also construction workers and interior decorators) worked fever pitch while we sat around with Fred and got real close and intimate with Graham. When they were all done, they called out to Fred, who relayed the message on his walkie-talkie. A woman’s voice answered, a voice that seemed eerily familiar. As they conversed back and forth about day-to-day zoo matters, I wasn’t paying the closest attention; I was hypnotized, locking eye contact with our prehistoric friend. But I was snapped back to reality as Fred signed off, “Thanks, see ya Terri.” Like a brick to the head, I realized why the voice sounded so familiar; John and I were eavesdropping on a conversation with the boss of Australia Zoo, Terri Irwin.
Gloating all the way back to the bus, we found out the group on the tram to the tigers passed by Terri and Bindi, who gave a requisite wave as they passed. They too were understandably excited. However, despite never seeing her face in person, I still feel we got the better deal. Instead of the public smile, we listened in on the real zoo, and we experienced Steve Irwin through Craig and Fred in a way that’s the closest we’ll get now that he’s dead. But to them and through them, he’s still alive, leading the charge to save the world.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment