Crocodile Handling Gone Wrong

The humid air hung thick and heavy, smelling faintly of mildew and riverbed. Jax, sweat plastering his bandana to his forehead, adjusted his grip on the long, forked pole. Today was supposed to be a routine croc relocation. Just a grumpy Nile crocodile, probably displaced by the unusually high rains, bothering some villagers downstream. Easy money.

Jax had been doing this for years. He knew the drill: a swift capture, a gentle hoist, a secure transport to a designated release area further upriver. He’d even given the croc a nickname: “Snappy Sue,” even though he had no idea if it was a female. It was just a habit, a way to humanize the beasts he so often had to wrangle.

He spotted her basking on a muddy bank, an ancient-looking creature with eyes like chips of obsidian. Snappy Sue, or whatever her real name was, looked unimpressed.

“Alright, Sue,” Jax muttered, approaching cautiously. “No need for drama. Just a quick trip, and then you’re back to your happy place.”

He extended the forked pole, aiming for just behind her head. Usually, the gentle pressure was enough to disorient them momentarily, giving him the chance to immobilize the jaws. This time, however, Snappy Sue had other plans.

With a speed that belied her prehistoric appearance, she whirled, snapping her jaws with a sound like a tree cracking in a storm. The fork glanced harmlessly off her thick hide. Jax swore under his breath. This was already off-script.

He tried again, more forcefully this time. The pole connected, but Snappy Sue was enraged. She lunged forward, her powerful tail lashing, scattering mud and small rocks. Jax stumbled back, losing his footing on the slick embankment.

He landed hard, the forked pole clattering away. He scrambled to his feet, adrenaline surging. Snappy Sue was closer now, her eyes fixed on him, her body coiled and ready to spring. He knew he had to regain control, and fast.

He reached for his tranquilizer gun, fumbling with the safety catch. His hands were slick with sweat, and the small lever refused to budge. He glanced up. Snappy Sue was closing the distance.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. He’d imagined a smooth operation, a quick paycheck, maybe a cold beer on the porch later that evening. He hadn’t envisioned becoming lunch.

Suddenly, a loud yelp pierced the air. A small, wiry dog, a mangy mutt he’d seen scavenging around the village, darted towards Snappy Sue. The croc, momentarily distracted, whirled around to face the new threat.

Jax saw his chance. He lunged for the tranquilizer gun, finally managing to flip the safety. He aimed carefully, taking a deep breath. The dart hissed out, striking Snappy Sue in the flank.

The croc roared, thrashing wildly. The dog, surprisingly brave, nipped at her heels, adding to the chaos. Slowly, the tranquilizer began to take effect. Snappy Sue’s movements became sluggish, her roars fading into groans.

Jax watched, heart pounding, as the magnificent creature finally slumped onto the mud bank, unconscious. He let out a shaky breath, relief washing over him.

He looked down at the dog, panting and still nipping tentatively at the croc’s tail. “Well, thanks, fella,” Jax said, scratching the dog behind its ears. “You just saved my bacon.”

The dog wagged its tail, oblivious to its heroism. Jax knew he’d have to buy it a feast from the village market later.

As he secured Snappy Sue for transport, Jax knew he’d never look at crocodile relocation quite the same way again. He’d learned a valuable lesson that day: even routine jobs can go horribly wrong, and sometimes, the most unexpected heroes come in the smallest packages. And maybe, just maybe, he’d stick to simpler nicknames in the future. “Snappy Sue” had almost been the death of him.