The zoo used to be a crocodile farm, until it got flattened by a hurricane. After the hurricane abated, it was re-built … as a zoo.
There’s always a sort of laid back vibe to the place coupled with a definite feel that health and safety is something for other people. With 200 crocodiles hanging around, this is something to think about.
The last time we visited, we naively followed a man armed only with plastic shoes, into the main croc-pen. After we got home, we considered this, and the fact that only a piece of string had seperated us from a large nest, guarded by a fearsome mummy croc. The conclusion? We must have been suffering from sunstroke that day.
Spin on to this morning. As we marched down to the croc-zone with another inappropriate person (a little student, with a huge crocodile mouth shaped scar on her arm), a number of thoughts crossed my mind:
– This time, I’m temporarily crippled by dystonia. I’ve no chance of being able to pull off the Roger Moore stunt from Live and Let Die, by running across the crocodiles’ backs to escape.
– I’m at the back of our tiny group. If this were a film, I would be a dead cert for crocodile lunch.
Sit. Rep? Not good.
The crocodiles, however, seemed completely unconcerned by our presence. Probably, because they can go from asleep to high speed sprint, in the blink of an eye.
Time to look for the exit.
[Editor’s Note. I’ve just re-read this and I think I’ve made our “zoo experience” sound a bit negative. This was not the intention, as we enjoyed our visit.]