'Look, crocodiles!' Hunting with shotguns in the wild rivers of the Northern Territory's Arnhem Land

Updated

We were deep in a forest crowded by paperbark trees, the air thick with humidity but eerily silent save for the screeching of tropical birds, when Marcus shouted: "Look, crocodiles!".

Crocodile attacks in NT this year January: A 12-year-old boy attacked and killed at a billabong at Cooinda in Kakadu

June: Fisherman Bill Scott, 62, taken from a boat in Kakadu

August: Biological remains found in a crocodile after a man goes missing on Melville Island in a suspected attack

August: Man fishing on Adelaide River taken in front of wife

As a Reuters photojournalist, I was a trained observer, but I could not see any crocs.

I could not see anything beyond mud and what little water was left in the small billabong.

Aboriginal hunters Marcus and Roy - a father and son team - took off running past a herd of water buffalo and by the time I caught up Roy was standing ankle-deep in murky water, his shotgun pointed at the surface.

"Hang on a minute: wasn't your son pointing at crocodiles in that water 10 seconds ago? Is this safe?" I said.

Roy treaded carefully as the water rose to his knees, seeming for a moment to lose sight of his prey.

Then in one swift action he stepped back, took aim and shattered the outback calm, and a crocodile, with a single booming shotgun blast.

I was definitely not in Sydney anymore.

Being a 'White Fella' in Arnhem means 'changing gears'

For more than 10 years I had dreamed of photographing the daily lives of Aboriginal Australians in the northern-most tip of the Northern Territory - Australia's rugged Top End.

Their Arnhem Land reserve - closer to Bali than Sydney - covers an area of around 97,000 square kilometres, has a population of around 16,000 and access for non-Aboriginals is by invitation only.

Last year, while on patrol with the Indigenous Australian Army unit known as NORFORCE, I met Sergeant Norman Daymirringu, a Yolngu Aborigine, who invited me to go hunting with him near Ramingining, an Indigenous community located a bumpy and dusty 600-kilometre drive east of Darwin.

Norman is allowed by tradition to share his ancient culture with those he deems worthy, and I was honoured to have been told the Yolngu people's creation stories and shown their sacred sites.

But entering Arnhem Land as a "White Fella" means changing gears and seeing the world through a completely different set of eyes; a great challenge for a photographer.

For example, an outsider might struggle to understand a site such as "Dog's Tongue", an orange rock amid a barren salt pan, but for Norman it is an integral part of the creation of the universe.

The rock has tipped over from its normal position and Norman, as custodian of the land, affords me the rare honour of watching as he puts it back in place, where it has stood for countless millennia.

The art of filleting a crocodile; intestines wrapped in leaves

At Yathalamarra, a community consisting of about a dozen houses, we picked up some relatives for the hunt and head on foot to an isolated billabong.

With the sun blazing and temperatures reaching 40 degrees Celsius, I was getting pessimistic, when suddenly Roy fired his shotgun.

At his feet lay a dead crocodile. Roy pulled the beast from the water while Marcus kept lookout.

Not far from the shoreline the water started moving.

Suddenly Marcus pounced and, from just beneath the surface, he pulled out another crocodile, this one a baby.

Roy was nervous about crossing the billabong carrying a heavy dead crocodile. He wandered downstream and grabbed a boat hidden in the bushes.

Using a stick as a paddle he navigated towards us, throwing the two crocs onto the muddy shore.

It's over, I think, we can head off with a great catch and potential feast.

Roy had other ideas: "It's easier to carry them without all that skin," he told me.

Any butcher would have been extremely impressed with the skill he showed at filleting this massive beast.

The baby was carried out alive.

As we were leaving Roy wrapped the intestines in leaves, as nothing that could be eaten would be wasted, and he and his sons walked the few kilometres back to the car with crocodile meat and a goanna lizard slung over their shoulders.

As for me, I walked away with a unique insight into their culture and some photographs that not many others have had the privilege of taking.

Map: Yathalamarra & Ramingining in Arnhem Land are more than 400km from Darwin, the capital of the Northern Territory.

Reuters

Topics: crocodile, animals, photography, aboriginal, travel-and-tourism, ramingining-0822

First posted