Shoes full of sludge and sweat dripping down his brow, Matt Brien pushes aside thick reeds, taller than himself, using two long oars. In just a few metres, he will lead the way into the murky moat of swamp water surrounding an active crocodile nest.

This moment is the most anticipated in the crocodile egg collector's job; the moment Matt describes as comparable to entering a dragon's lair, or stepping onto a mine field yet to be swept.

Often described as one of the world's most dangerous jobs, crocodile egg collecting is not for the faint-hearted.

With only a wooden oar for self-defence, Matt and a fellow egg collector carrying an esky are dropped by helicopter into the middle of Malacca Swamp, just south of Darwin, for the mission.

The task demands fitness, focus and seriously fast thinking for any hairy - or scaly - situations that may arise.

But perhaps above all crocodile egg collectors need to be team players. They depend on each other for any chance of survival if something goes wrong.

While he waits for the chopper to arrive on the outskirts of Malacca swamp, Matt wraps duct tape around his shoelaces and the ankles of his trousers to avoid attack by leeches - one of the less threatening but more definite encounters of the day.

"It's a pretty unique experience - crocodiles are one of those things that are so primitive and pre-historic that it instils fear and excitement," Matt says.

"It doesn't get any more extreme than getting dropped into a crocodile's nest in the swamp to take their eggs of all things."

While chatting with colleagues at the base camp in Malacca swamp, Matt and the other egg collectors compare stories of accidentally stepping on unsuspecting crocodiles or battling nasty cases of leptospirosis, a waterborne disease common in these swampy areas.

But as soon as the helicopter drops him into the middle of the swamp, his light-hearted banter is gone, replaced with a determined yet cautious expression, eyes always scanning the surroundings.

"You have to be on your game; you're always thinking 'cos there's always a possibility of something happening," he says.

The slow and inelegant trudge through thigh-deep swamp waters is laced with suspense. Each hard lump in the water ahead is prodded and tested before the next step is taken, until Matt finally reaches a clearing of deeper water around a large bundle of sticks the crocodile nest.

"Now we have to be a bit more careful because the nest is straight in here," Matt says between panting breaths, already puffed from the hard slog of wading up towards the nest.

"This is the edge of her wallow, where she stirs up the water around her nest, so anytime you see the water is a bit more murky like this you do have to be a bit more careful. There are some deep bits."

Lunging forwards and up onto the edge of the nest, Matt stops to inspect a depression on top of the mound.

"That's a tail drag," he says. "You can see it's an active nest and the mother's just been here."

Matt prepares to test the water where the tail drag leads, warning if she is in there, 'she'll explode'.

"It's the only way I can describe how they come out of the water, just literally explode out of the water with such power. When you're the king or queen out here you don't expect anyone to be touching you."

Several strong slaps of the oar over the water confirm mama croc is not present, so Matt begins peeling back layers of sticks on top of the nest, quickly revealing a glowing pot of around 50 freshly-laid eggs.

Each egg is carefully marked to ensure it remains upright, securing the embryo in its place inside, and then placed in neat lines inside the esky.

The future handbags and belts are worth around $40 per egg, so precision and care is paramount in order to give the animals the greatest chance of survival back at the crocodile farm.

Matt is very focussed on the survival factors for crocodiles. While he works as an egg collector at Crocodylus Park in Darwin, he is also working on his PhD, exploring why the survival rate of hatchling crocodiles is lower in captivity.

The survival rate for hatchlings in captivity ranges between 10 and 15 per cent, whereas in the wild it is as high as 50 per cent.

The most obvious risks are in handling the eggs at the collection stage and during incubation, where eggs may be rolled, dropped or disrupted by changes in temperature.

At the end of a long and successful day under the sun in Malacca swamp, Matt then returns to Crocodylus Park to spend more hours washing and storing the eggs in shipping container incubators, according to their age.

"This is probably one of the more important stages, cleaning and processing the eggs. Even though it's the last thing you want to do at the end of a long day, it's really important," he says.

Eggs from an older nest collected at Malacca swamp the same day are already beginning to hatch; small scaly noses poking through the soft shells.

Matt and other egg collectors gently squeeze the eggs until a wriggling, blinking hatchling crocodile bursts forth.

"I've worked with crocodiles for many years now in Australia and around the world. Crocodiles are something that get under your skin. They're quite amazing creatures."

Listen to the above audio-photo slideshow for a full journey through Malacca swamp crocodile egg collecting, or, watch the video under the 'Video' tab, to see crocodile eggs hatching.