... 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!)