On our kayak trip down the Katherine River last year, we naturally asked about crocs, and were assured that the habitat wasn't suitable for salties to nest in, so there would be no females and hence no big males. "You mean there might still be smaller ones though?" we persisted. "Pft! Teenagers!" was the reply, so scathingly uttered that we felt only true wusses would pursue the matter further. "Um, just don't swim in the deep water, though," Mick added, kind of grudgingly.
Lying there in the night, with the stars bright overhead, I did give a passing thought to cold yellow eyes watching from the dark, and dismissed it as foolishness. "Mick said" was all the reassurance I needed.
And besides, I'd put James between me and the water.
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