Quotes of the Day

When Saltwater crocodiles killed a human on Australia's northeast coast in the old days, a posse of gun-toting locals would converge on the area, blast all crocs to death, slit open their bellies to establish guilt, and release the unfortunate victim's remains for a decent burial. But in these environmentally enlightened times, authorities are taking a very different approach — and not everybody is happy about it.

Inhabiting the tidal estuaries around Australia's northern coast, the crocs, or salties, as they're known locally, grow to more than 17 feet and can weigh more than a ton. They lurk near river crossings, where they lie motionless, half-submerged in muddy shallows, then explode out of the water to seize an animal as large as a horse or cow, drag it underwater, and roll with it until it drowns.

Such behavior was little tolerated by the region's early settlers, who would cheerfully shoot the reptiles on sight — all the more eagerly once the market for their skins began to grow. But in 1971, amid fears for the species' survival, hunting crocodiles was outlawed. Croc numbers have since recovered, but whenever a human dies in an attack — about once a year in Australia — a row erupts over whether protecting such a deadly predator is justified.

Last month the debate was reopened when Arthur Booker, 62, wandered down to retrieve his crab pots on the mangrove-lined banks of the Endeavour River, near Cooktown, in the northeastern state of Queensland. Lying in wait was a large crocodile, which is thought to have dragged the Scottish-born camper into the water and eaten him, leaving only his sandals, watch and video camera beside a huge belly-slide mark.

The state government quickly dispatched two dozen wildlife rangers to collect any aggressive crocodiles in the area and search for Booker's remains. Within days, traps anchored to the banks of the river snared three potential man-eaters. But instead of executing and disemboweling the reptiles, the rangers gently loaded them into trailers and transported them to Cairns, 160 miles to the south, where they were X-rayed. Two were also given an endoscopy, with a tiny camera passed into their stomach to probe for Booker's remains.

Queensland's chief wildlife manager, Mike Devery, defended the costly operation, saying the animals were listed as vulnerable under the state's Nature Conservation Act, which labels crocodiles over 13 feet long as "iconic." But the kid-glove treatment outraged many locals, including Federal Parliamentarian Bob Katter, a cowboy-hatted, blunt-spoken cattle rancher whose 218,000 square-mile electoral district is home to thousands of wild crocodiles.

Katter accused the government of making human sacrifices to a crocodile god, saying, "The only time I'd like to see that croc is through the sights of my rifle." Once, if a crocodile ate a human, all crocodiles in the area would be shot immediately, he says. "Now they are getting X rays. You've got patients who can't get X rays or endoscopies in Queensland's hospitals, but a crocodile can get one."

Arguing that crocodile numbers are booming, Katter has called for a cull. "They're wandering into people's backyards," he says. State Environment Minister Andrew McNamara says numbers have increased only slightly since the ban on hunting was imposed, and that for safety's sake, animals over six-foot-six long are relocated out of urban areas. Queensland crocodile expert Gordon Grigg says culling is futile: "You can never be sure you've got them all, and it risks giving people a false sense of security."

Forensic scientists are testing suspected human remains found in one of the thee crocodiles captured after Booker's disappearance, a three-legged, 14-foot brute. Culprit or not, its life will be spared. To the dismay of Katter and other nostalgic northerners, its next role will be as a stud on a crocodile farm rather than a range of handbags and shoes.

(Click here for TIME's pictures of the week).

• Rory Callinan