The End of the Beginning.

Rotten chicken heads smell better than rotten pig's heart. Flip flops and shorts, although comfortable and dry, are not ideal working attire. You can never use too much sunblock and going to church is always a good idea. These are a few things I've learned since I've been here. Some are simply trivia whereas others are lifelong lessons never to be forgotten.

I apologize for not posting more pictures. There have been some exciting times on and off the farm in the last couple of months. There have been several encounters with crocodiles recently, both large and small, a few more nest raids-including my second time personally collecting the eggs. The novelty of working with crocodiles isn't gone but I don't run for cameras anymore before a catch or take much time to recount the events in my journal at the end of the day. It's simply become what I do. I still love it, and the thought of my departure is difficult to swallow.

Life outside of the farm has become a lot of fun. I've been going to church every week and my church family here is great. I've really been blessed. Lunch invitations never get old and Ben and I get quite a few of them. The first person I met at church Mark, took us out on his boat to a nearby island to go fishing and relax. The silt and debris from the nearby river made visibility poor and spearfishing impossible. It was wonderful to be out on the water though and the beaches are beautiful around Keppel Island where we were.

Another weekend was spent camping in the national forest and lounging on the beach. Last week I went with one of the deacons Shane, pig hunting. Australia is full of feral, non-endemic animals and wild pigs are one of them. I had been interested in going ever since I heard about it. They hunt them with dogs and kill them by holding their tails and stabbing them through the lungs with a knife! I thought, 'This I gotta see!' Unfortunately, we didn't see any pigs that day but brought home a few rabbits, another introduced animal to Australia.

As I write this, less than two weeks remain before I leave Australia. Early next week I'm making my way up to Cairns to SCUBA dive on the Great Barrier Reef. After that I'll be flying to Bali, Indonesia where I'll meet up with my friend Adi whom I met working in Wamsutter last year. As excited as I am to see Asia and fill up my passport with stamps I am reluctant to leave Rockhampton. Recently, people have asked me when I'll be coming back to Australia and the earliest date I can think of doesn't seem soon enough. It's been such a great experience and I've fallen in love with the animals, the climate, the church and especially the people.

My visa expires at the end of March. If that wasn't the case, I probably wouldn't be leaving. That's the catch-22 I'm in. If you scroll up to the top of the page, it says Terry's World Tour, not Terry's Tour of Eastern Australia. Therefore, I'm trying to think of my expiring visa as a good thing. It's the boost needed to move on, when it would be so easy to stay. I'm comfortable here, I'm happy here. Why would I willingly throw myself into countries where I'll most likely be uncomfortable again, scared again and lonely again? I think this quote from Churchill given at my high school graduation sums up my situation well, "Now this is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. But it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning."

Good Morning Queensland!

I love my job. I hope you can say the same thing about your place of employment but I really do like this job. Not since my job working at a ski resort in Colorado have I been paid for doing something I would most likely do for free. Sure, I endured days when I thought my toes were literally frozen and the snow report called for icy conditions and wind, but there were also days when I got to work with my friend Will and we'd ski backwards all day and work on our 360's and I'd tell him as we got back on the chairlift, "Thank you so much for getting me this job!"

Similarly here at the farm I often have my hands around a broom handle or elbow deep in rotting chicken heads more often that I do handling crocodiles, but that's just it... I do get to handle crocodiles! Every once in awhile back at my apartment, I reflect on the day and I have to laugh at the day's events. Earlier this week I willingly tried to get a fifteen foot long crocodile to chase me and I never thought twice about it. Yesterday I helped a baby dinosaur hatch from it's egg. I understand that's not normal!

I've arrived in the middle of nesting season when the females are laying their eggs. Over the period of a few weeks the female will build a nest of sand, dirt and vegetation to lay her eggs in. Once the eggs are laid she covers them up and guards the nest until they hatch. Once we think a female has laid, we go in and collect the eggs from the nest and put them into an incubator.

Raiding nests can get exciting as the females are very protective and usually need to be caught and tied up so we can check the nest in relative safety. Sometimes the female will be in the water in which we can't see her or maybe the male will come over to chase us off his territory. In any circumstance there is potential for danger and excitement.

My usual duties have varied from simply spectating, holding the rope which is tied to the female while she's tied up or distracting the male crocodile while people are in the pen. In nearly every circumstance I'm always on the outside of the fence. This week was my big debut. While we were raiding a particular nest the female retreated into the water unable to be caught. We estimated we had close to ten minutes before she would come back out. While Simmo distracted the male, Grabs stood between the nest and the water so I could collect the eggs!

Seventy-four beautiful white ovals that sounded like glass when they touched each other, and seemed just as fragile as I took them from the nest, marked the tops with a pencil where the embryo will have attached and placed them into the bucket. The guys had told me before about the adrenaline rush you get while you're in the pen, making you oblivious to the mozzies biting you, but I didn't experience that. I wasn't scared or nervous, I didn't feel a rush of adrenaline. I was just plain giddy with excitement. I couldn't believe I was finally in there doing what I'd been longing to do from the other side of the fence. It was great!

The fun didn't stop there. As we were moving crocodiles from one pen to another, my roomate Ben was bitten on the leg by a three footer. It let us all realize just how potentially dangerous even some of the smallest crocodiles on the farm can be. Twelve stitches later he was back at work and just to make sure he didn't forget the severity of the experience we had him clean and prepare teeth for the next two days. It has been raining heavily for the last two weeks which has stirred up the crocodiles. We had a few escapees which had to be caught and put back in their pens. After a few days all the crocodiles had been accounted for. I'm ready for the sun to come back out after all this flooding, mud and overcast skies.

It seems like you can't go too long here without some sort of animal encounter outside of the farm. On more than one occasion there have been pillowcases laying in the break room with pythons inside that people have brought to work to share with everyone. Unidentified geckos go home in sandwich containers to be identified and then released. Simmo stopped by our house late one night with a brown bag in his hand and a scaly tail sticking out the top. It was a frilled lizard that had been run over. I didn't know they had them in this area but I was very happy he brought it out for me to see. On the way home we passed an echidna crossing the road. Cute little creatures resembling an overgrown hedgehog, they are one of the only mammals that lay eggs besides the platypus.

Each day is different and each day is the same. There's always something to learn and adventure is never far away.

... and on his farm he had some Crocodiles!

I could tell you about Brisbane and how it's a nice city with a great river walk through it. Or I could tell you of Australia Zoo, the home of the late crocodile hunter Steve Irwin and how clean it is and what a great tribute it is to his life and passion for conservation. I could even tell you of the scary night I had in Bundaberg at a hostel full of fruit-picking backpackers. I could retell the events and conversations I had during a fabulous dinner with Brooke and Olivia, two Americans I met during my first night in Rockhampton... But I'd rather tell you what you've all been waiting for, the crocodile farm! Koorana Crocodile Farm is tucked away off a back road, aptly named Savages Road. Large crocs lay motionless just beneath the water's surface in pens lining the road up to the restaurant. I arrived on a Sunday so there wasn't much action. My adventure would start on Monday.

A lot of people want to know what I do at the farm. I'll spare you the day-to-day details of farm life and say that I've fed them, eaten them, held them, killed them, cleaned them, caught them, moved them, raided their nests and salted their skins. And that's all within the first week. It feels good to be a crocodile farmer! The farm raises Saltwater Crocodiles for their meat and skin. There are about 3000 crocodiles here. Within 3-5 years they are near 6 feet long and the perfect age for culling. Any older and the meat gets tougher. A couple people work in the abattoir skinning and processing the meat. My main duty is feeding the younger crocodiles. They eat chicken heads every Monday, Wednesday and Friday while the adults get food less frequently.

Croc farmers, like crocodiles themselves are quite opportunistic, so when a lady called up saying she had just shot a cow and was willing to give it to us we all jumped in the truck to go get it. Before long we had it cut up and were feeding it to the big crocodiles. For any Animal Planet watching regular, it's common knowledge that crocodiles bite down with a force of nearly two thousand pounds per square inch. There is absolutely no way you can grasp that amount of power without feeding one yourself and hearing their jaws popping like gunfire and the bones crunching under the force of their bite. I went through a weird emotion at that time. I wasn't in any immediate danger. We would get the animals to come to the fence and then throw them a piece of beef. However there is an element of danger. Hang a little too far over the fence or hold on to the meat a little too long and you could lose an arm real quick! The closest thing I can equate what I felt was as if a friend had handed you a gun and said it wasn't loaded. Then you pull the trigger and the gun goes off. It's a combination of elation that you weren't killed, fear that you were so close to being killed and giddy that you get to do it all over again. Any thoughts of me being young and bulletproof were quickly grounded!

I'm learning something new everyday. If it's not about crocodiles it's about the surrounding towns or definitions to new Aussie lingo. Before I leave I hope to decipher the mystery of cricket! (It's a sport people, google it!)