I’m a wildlife man through and through.
Some of my earliest memories are of me snatching the TV remote from my sister and flicking over to National Geographic and Animal Planet.
I devoured everything from sea shepherds protecting whales to cheetahs chasing down zig-zagging gazelles, yet through it all, one animal stood out:
CROCODILES.
Namely, Nile crocodiles and their much larger cousins, the Saltwater crocodiles.
There’s a horrifying awe in watching these prehistoric reptiles take down migrating zebra and wildebeest as they race across croc-infested rivers. Admittedly, I have to look away when more than one of these predators grabs hold of their quarry, as things can quickly get grisly — even for someone like me who can stomach a lot.
Where this “draw” comes from is a mystery to me.
If I had to guess, all those years of watching the legendary and late Steve Irwin may have something to do with it.
What’s more:
This ‘urge’ was strong enough to lure me out of the glorious 5-star hotel resort we were staying at in Morocco a few years back to visit a famous crocodile park, which was filled to the brim with Niles.
There must have been at least 200-300 of them in this park, perhaps more, ranging from juveniles to the monster croc bosses who would take apart giants like Shaquille O’Neal with ease.
It’s funny. I was so fearful of falling into these pits that I’d glance over my shoulder to make sure nobody was behind me. Just one nut was all it took, and I would’ve been pulled to pieces before Lady Laura could check to see if our life insurance covers death by animal.
Even my dad – a massive Steve Irwin fan – doesn’t understand my fascination for these beasts.
He always saw them as cold-blooded killing machines, and, for the most part…
HE’S RIGHT.
The only way I can describe this unhealthy obsession of mine is that — like an adrenaline junkie who enjoys bungee jumping several hundred feet down a canyon (no, thank you) — there is something about being within a few metres of the strongest jaws on the planet.
Like this:
I suppose I should be grateful, however.
If it wasn’t for this rather quirky fascination of mine, the crocozil in The Divided Region would not exist.
Unlike the Niles I visited in Morocco, this fictional reptile makes real-world crocs look like tadpoles. Their scales are not just grey and perfect for the stagnant lakes they prowl, but their teeth are as long as a man’s arms, and they can live for hundreds of years.
Plenty of time to claim the lives of many unsuspecting wanderers who stray too close to the water’s edge.
At least if you find yourself in the jaws of a Nile crocodile, there’s a 1% chance of survival.
BUT A CROCOZIL?
You’d be dead on arrival.
It’s a beast you’ll ‘meat’ in Forbidden Forest in a rather grim encounter. I can’t promise you’ll have an unhealthy obsession with crocodiles after the fact, but I reckon you will have a whole lot of respect for them after Chapter 14.
To read more about the resident crocozil (and the other ‘inhabitants’) of this ancient forest, go here:
https://djjwatsonstore.com/products/Forbidden-Forest
DJJW