Radio tracking is a great way to keep tabs on an animal. The tags aren’t very big, so they don’t bother the crocodile, but they emit a powerful signal that allows us to see where they go. For animals like crocodiles, the best place to put the small transmitter is on their back, right where their head ends and their body begins.
I quickly undid the top of the glue and grabbed a brush.
“Remember, Adrianna, just enough to make it stick—too much or too little, and it could fall off,” my mom said before hopping out of the boat to go consult with Mr. Savage.
“I know, I know,” I muttered to myself. Carefully, I applied a layer of glue at the bottom of the tracking device. The last thing I wanted was for this tag to come loose! It was a prime opportunity for us to find other crocodiles—maybe even the Mega Croc we’d heard so much about! I decided to put some glue on the sides of the tracking device, too, just in case.
I heard a squelching noise and saw Feye make his way through the mud toward the side of the boat.
“They’re ready for the tag, Adrianna,” he said, holding out his hand.
I couldn’t believe how lucky Feye was, getting to place the first tracker of our adventure! Behind him, our family and some of the crew were busy taking measurements and some blood and tissue samples from the crocodile. I saw them try to angle the crocodile into perfect release position. As soon as the tracker was on the croc, they’d want to get it back into the water and on its way. I quickly put a tiny bit more glue on the sides and bottom of the tag and gently handed it over to Feye.
He grabbed the tag and walked back to our parents. My dad stood at the croc’s massive shoulder, so he could help direct Feye. I sealed up the glue and hopped over the boat’s side to join my family. I didn’t want to miss seeing the huge animal swim back into the water.
The mouth of the big croc was held shut by rope and its eyes were covered with a damp cloth to help keep it calm. Crew members gripped the croc all along its scaly body to hold it still so Feye could safely put the tag on its back.
He leaned forward carefully, placed the tracker, and then started to stand. But suddenly, Feye let out a yelp. “Dad, I’m stuck!” he cried in a slightly panicked voice.
My stomach dropped. He had just put all his body weight on top of the tag to make sure it really stuck to the crocodile—and now his hand was also attached!
Feye tugged at his hand, cursing under his breath.
Dad signaled for another crew member to come take over his position at the crocodile’s shoulder. “Now, don’t panic, Feye,” Dad said. “Keep breathing. It’s important to stay calm. I’m going to take a look now. Just keep breathing and listening to the sound of my voice.”
I realized then that I had also stopped breathing. I gulped in a big lungful of air and watched as my dad changed positions with the crew member who was coming to take over at the shoulder. But as the new crew member swapped in, he moved too quickly, and the damp towel that had been covering the crocodile’s eyes suddenly slipped off.
Now able to see, the croc began to jerk from side to side, trying to get free.
The crew members hadn’t been expecting that, and some lost their grips on the big animal. With a crack of its tail, the crocodile was able to inch closer toward the water—with my brother’s hand still stuck to it.
“Dad!” Feye yelled, any brief calmness now completely erased.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Connor and the rest of the sound crew throw their boom microphones down and run over to jump on top of the massive crocodile. Someone tried to readjust the towel back over the croc’s eyes, but in the confusion I couldn’t tell who it was.
“We can’t hold him much longer!” a voice called as the crocodile once more squirmed closer to the water. This can’t be happening … this can’t be happening … I hadn’t realized I had taken a few steps back until my head hit the side of the boat.
“Feye, this is going to hurt, sorry!” I heard my dad say, as he tugged at Feye’s hand.
Both of them jerked backward. Feye’s hand was finally free. Feye cried out and my mom swooped in to drag him away from the crocodile.
“He’s loose! Let the big croc go! NOW!” Mr. Savage yelled. The team leapt off the crocodile and the enormous animal lurched forward and disappeared into the murky water.
I couldn’t move. What had just happened?!
I looked at my brother, who was in our mother’s arms, holding his hand close to his chest as she kissed his forehead. Our set medic, Miguel, rushed past me with his kit.
“Let’s all give them some room,” Mr. Savage called, motioning people away from where they had started to congregate around Feye and my mom.
Now that the tense moment was over, the crew began to clean up. Everyone was covered in mud from struggling with the crocodile. My stomach did flip-flops. Shakily, I made my way across the bank toward my brother. I was the one who had prepared the tracker. Had I messed something up? Or had Feye put it on the wrong way?
“Adrianna!” Suddenly, my dad loomed in front of me, his mouth pressed into a hard line. “Just how much glue did you put on that tracking device?” His tone was measured, but I could tell from the pulsing vein in his forehead that he was trying very hard not to yell.
Oh no. “Not that much,” I said in a small voice. But I couldn’t lie. “Just some on the bottom … and a tiny bit on the sides,” I finished, looking down at my mud-caked boots. “Oh, Adrianna!” My dad took a deep breath. “What were you thinking? That’s not how we taught you to prepare them.”
“I’m sorry,” I squeaked. “I just really didn’t want it to fall off. I didn’t think—”
“You didn’t think! That’s exactly the problem. Your brother could have been really hurt, Adrianna. When we’re out here filming, you have to follow our instructions at all times. I know this is all new and exciting, but you can’t get caught up and forget the basics.” My dad gestured around at the filming crew packing up their equipment.
My cheeks burned. I couldn’t believe my dad thought I was so distracted by a couple of extra cameras that I couldn’t handle a simple gluing task.
Before I could respond, Mom and Feye made their way to us. Feye clutched his hand, two fingers swathed in gauze.
“Feye, I’m so, so sorry,” I said. But he didn’t say anything. He just walked past me and went to sit on the boat, cradling his injured hand in his lap.
“What happened?” Mom asked, her full attention now on me and my dad.
Tears started to sting the back of my eyes. “I put too much glue on the tracking device. I know you always say not to do too much, but I thought adding some to the sides would make sure it stayed on …” I trailed off as I saw the disappointment on my mom’s face. “Lo siento mucho.”
“I know that you’re sorry,” my dad said. “But we can’t ignore the fact that this was a big mistake.” He and my mom shared a long look before he continued. “We wanted to give you a chance to be on camera with us. But it’s clear you’re not quite ready.”
I gasped. “No! I am ready! I just—”
My mom raised her hand to cut me off. “This isn’t a forever ban. We’ll just have to see how it goes. But you’re grounded for now.”
I opened my mouth to say something, but my throat felt drier than a desert. I closed it back up and felt tears start to slide down my cheeks.
The ride back to the floating boat hotel was quieter than usual. The only noise came from the boat engine, the bugs chirping as the sun set behind the mangrove forest, and my occasional sniffle.
It was a mistake! One I certainly wouldn’t be making again. And what made it worse was that Feye didn’t even want to hear my apology. Once we docked back at the boat hotel that was serving as our base camp, he pushed past me without a word and stomped inside.
My mom shrugged. “He needs a little time, Adrianna,” she said softly. I nodded but still hurried after Feye to try to explain. I caught up to him just as he was heading into his bunk room.
&
nbsp; “I’m so sorry, Feye,” I said. “I can’t say it enough. I didn’t mean to put you in danger.”
“But you did.” He said it flatly, his nostrils flaring.
“Not on purpose! You know that!” I said.
“Look, my hand hurts, and I’m tired. I’m heading to bed.” He turned away from me.
“I love you, bro,” I said, tears blurring my vision.
Feye paused. I saw his shoulders relax just a little bit. “I know, Adrianna. I love you, too.”
With that he walked away, disappearing into his room. I sniffed one last time and rubbed my eyes clear of any remaining tears. I felt terrible, but what I needed now was a way to prove to everyone that I did know what I was doing. That I could be trusted. If I could do that, maybe Feye would forgive me. And my parents would let me back on the show. I made my way toward the boat hotel bathrooms but stopped when I heard voices coming from my parents’ room.
“Listen, I understand, but the network wants the whole family in the show. Adrianna is part of the big-picture vision for the series,” I heard Mr. Savage say to my parents.
I peeked around the doorframe for a second to see my dad’s frowning face. I ducked back before anyone could spot me.
“Today was not a good start to things, Rick,” my dad said. “Adrianna’s just not ready. Family comes first.”
“Of course, of course. Well, if I can’t change your mind …” Mr. Savage trailed off hopefully.
“Thanks for understanding, Rick,” my mom said.
I heard rustling noises as the grown-ups stood. I darted back down the hall to my room. The last thing I needed was to get caught eavesdropping!
So that was it … I was off the show.
Well, not if I had anything to say about it.
As I sat down at the table for breakfast, Connor gave me a small, reassuring smile. At least one person wasn’t mad at me. I was slathering my toast in butter when Mr. Savage walked in with a stack of papers.
“We are changing tactics today after yesterday’s accident!” he said. “We want the whole family involved, so we’re moving our visit to the nearby crocodile breeding farm up a few days. I’d like us all to learn more about these Cuban crocodiles.” Mr. Savage looked at my parents. “Is it okay if we bring Adrianna along? No filming of the kids; this is all educational.”
My parents, food in both their mouths, looked at each other. Dad was the first to swallow and speak. “So long as she gets no camera time, yes. We are firm on no filming.”
Mr. Savage clapped his hands. “Perfect! Wheels up in thirty minutes, so read these as you eat!” he said, tossing some pamphlets on the breakfast table. As quickly as he came in, he left.
I bit into my now-buttered toast, crinkling my nose as Connor spread the Vegemite he always brought with him onto his own. I was fully engrossed in the pamphlet when I felt a stern hand on my shoulder. I looked up to see my dad, asking if I was ready to go.
“This is a field trip, so you can come, but no camera time,” he reiterated. I nodded, keeping my head down, and we all headed to the boat.
I climbed in and sat toward the front of the boat. I closed my eyes as the boat picked up speed, happy to focus on the wind and the occasional wave splashing me. It wasn’t long before the boat captain slowly made his way to the port. I spotted two big vans and a small group of people waving at us. I smiled and waved back.
“¡Hola familia Villalobos!” the man in front of the group called. Our boat hit the dock with a gentle thud, and my dad tossed one of the lines to secure the boat up to the leader, who took it and expertly knotted us in place. My dad reached up to clasp the man’s hand in a handshake and brought him into a hug.
“Soriano, it’s been a while! How are you, mi amigo?” Dad said, a big smile on his face.
“Good, especially now that you are all here! Will these be enough to take you to the farm?” Soriano said, pointing to the vans waiting for us.
“They will do just fine,” Mr. Savage said. “Rick Savage, nice to meet you, Soriano. Thank you for hosting us.”
“Ah, anything for Julio here. And this must be your familia!”
We all climbed out and shook Soriano’s hand. I made sure to give him a big smile and a firm handshake. I wanted to make a good impression and prove to my parents that I could be mature and responsible. I had to get back on the show!
* * *
As the vans pulled into the crocodile farm, we passed a big wooden sign that said BIENVENIDOS. A few baby crocodiles lounged near a lake behind the fence. They paid no attention to us as the vans drove by and parked near the entrance of a plain brick building.
We piled out of the vans, and Soriano led us back to an open-air pen. It held what looked to be hundreds of black-and-yellow Cuban crocodiles, napping under the hot Caribbean sun.
“Welcome to one of the oldest Cuban crocodile breeding farms here in Zapata. Here we breed the critically endangered Cuban crocodile in Zapata Swamp, Cuba’s largest wetland. We have over two thousand individual crocodiles, but it’s estimated that there are very few left in the wild,” Soriano explained.
I couldn’t help but get lost in the eyes of the nearest crocodile. It was not much bigger than my two hands put together. Its pale snout was covered in dark spots, and its yellow-green eyes looked as if they were sizing me up.
“Adrianna! Keep up!” Dad called out to me, breaking the spell.
We all walked around the pen and into the building itself. Lining the walls of the hallway were WANTED posters with different mug shots.
I was surprised to see the sea of faces with grim headlines underneath each one:
WANTED FOR POACHING
WANTED FOR ILLEGAL WILDLIFE TRAFFICKING
WANTED FOR ILLEGAL WILDLIFE TRADING
The list went on and on. All the people looked mean. I saw Feye out of the corner of my eye taking photos with his phone. More content for his Instagram when we finally get service again. I rolled my eyes.
“What are all of these?” I asked Soriano, gesturing at the posters.
“One of the biggest problems facing our crocodiles these days is overhunting,” Soriano explained. “A lot of the poachers here are a big problem for the conservation work we do.”
“What are the crocs hunted for?” Mr. Savage asked, looking closely at some of the WANTED posters.
“Well, their skin is used for a variety of things such as purses, belts, boots, wallets, and briefcases. Some people want crocodile heads to mount on their walls; some want their teeth for necklaces. Their meat is sold as a delicacy—and their eggs fetch a pretty penny, too,” Soriano explained.
We passed a big green door that had a WANTED poster with a man and a woman snarling in their pictures. I quickly tore my eyes from their gaze and hurried to catch up with our group.
It was then that I noticed that Mr. Savage had also seen the poster and stopped, staring hard at the image of the man and woman on the door.
Soriano saw this and made his way back to Mr. Savage and the posters, the rest of us following him. He pointed to the words under their pictures. ARMED AND EXTREMELY DANGEROUS was written in bold red letters.
“Aren’t all poachers armed and extremely dangerous?” Feye asked.
Soriano shook his head. “Not like these two. They’re clever and are okay with hurting people to get the animal they’re after. The local authorities have been tracking them for the past few weeks with no good leads. Watch out for them, okay?” he warned. With one more glare at the poster, he led our group down the hallway. Mr. Savage kept looking back at the poster.
“Do you think the Mega Croc might have been hunted for its hide?” I wondered out loud.
Before Mr. Savage could say anything, I heard Soriano laugh. “Mega Croc? Are you guys looking for that legend as well?” He shook his head.
“Well, we’re looking for a big, injured crocodile,” Dad clarified.
“You’ve heard of the Mega Croc?” Feye asked.
“It’s just a story,” Soriano
said. “People think there is this giant crocodile that has gone around terrorizing coastal communities and lives somewhere in Zapata. Some want to kill it out of fear, some want to kill it for its hide. A big croc hide sells for a lot of money if you know the right buyers.”
“Have you seen any big crocodiles lately?” Mr. Savage asked Soriano.
“A few, but nothing like the legendary Mega Croc. You guys aren’t the only ones looking for big crocs; poachers are around, too, especially those two who I just showed you. They’ve already hurt a lot of crocodiles and people in their quest to find this Mega Croc. So be careful,” Soriano warned again. We all nodded, understanding the caution in his voice.
I turned to Feye and whispered, “Do you think the injured crocodile crossed paths with the poachers and that’s why it got hurt?”
He just shrugged his shoulders. He still wasn’t talking to me.
“But enough about urban legends. Let me show you some cool real crocs!” Soriano said, motioning us to follow him outside.
“Thank you for a wonderful tour of the farm, Soriano! We really appreciate it and got some great up-close footage of the crocs,” Mr. Savage said enthusiastically, pumping Soriano’s hand up and down in a handshake.
“You’re welcome. Thank you for coming!” Soriano waved at us as we climbed into the vans.
“All right, guys, we are going to stick around Zapata for the rest of the day to see if we can spot some more of these Cuban crocodiles. We won’t film the kids, we just want some good nature shots,” said Mr. Savage.
Mom and Dad nodded in agreement.
“I reserved us a spot in a nearby site close to the water where we can set up for lunch, and then we’ll divide and conquer to find some crocs! Raoul, rev up this van and get us out of here,” Mr. Savage said.
Soon we were bumping down the dirt roads toward the new site. The first thing I noticed when we arrived was that it had netting around its entire perimeter.
“What is this net for?” I asked as we climbed out.
“It’s to keep the Cuban crocs out. It’s not always successful, though,” Feye answered. He speaks! I cheered internally. It was the first time he had spoken to me the whole day. I handed him a sandwich from our backpack. He reached out with his bandaged hand and took it gently.
Crocodile Rescue! Page 3