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The Guardian - AU
The Guardian - AU
National
Helen Davidson in Berry Springs

The race that stops the territory: crocodiles, cane toads and a lightning strike

Northern Territorians celebrate Melbourne Cup day with crocodile and cane toad races
Northern Territorians celebrate Melbourne Cup day with crocodile and cane toad races: Mr Malcolm, Whinger, Tab, Mongrel, and Handbag race for the hay bale finish line in the crocodile race. Photograph: Helen Davidson for the Guardian

Not even a freak lightning strike and an escaped saltwater crocodile could dampen the spirits at Berry Springs Tavern, 60 kilometres out of Darwin, on Melbourne Cup day.

About 80 people people gathered at the outback pub on Tuesday, to celebrate a horse race 3,700 kilometres away by holding their own version, but with crocodiles and cane toads. The slated turtle race was cancelled after participants allegedly failed a drug test.

Now in its second year, the Berry Springs croc races attracted locals and visitors in variations of race day finery for the world’s only event of its kind. Numbers were down, which the pub owner, Ian Sloan, put down to tougher economic times for people.

But the races would go on, even if for a moment it seemed they shouldn’t, as the universe sent a thundering black storm over the pub and a lightning strike to knock out the power.

The blast came just minutes after one of the young saltwater crocodiles – jaws thankfully taped up – made a break for freedom, leaping from its plastic tub while the handler showed them off to a media pack. Reporters shrieked and jumped on tables as handler, Alex Williams, scrambled to retrieve the runaway.

A few keen gamblers wondered what colours it would be racing in.

Sloan had his own tips.

“I reckon with the cane toads you go with the smaller ones, they’re a bit nippier,” he said.

“But crocodiles – on the day it could be anybody’s race. They’re all athletes, they all have good days and bad days.”

The rains cleared and the generator fired up, and once the Melbourne race was over the crowds moved outside to the haybale track for the main event.

Belinda Harris had come up from Melbourne. I asked how the race compared to her home town.

“Absolutely loving it,” she said. “This is awesome. I put on Facebook today: I’m at Berry Springs Tavern doing Melbourne Cup NT-style.”

Newly named Mr Malcolm, Whinger, Tab, Mongrel, and Handbag took their places, held in a wriggling reptilian mass under Williams’ arms. At the starting gun he let them go, and they speed-waddled for the edges.

Mongrel and Mr Malcolm won the first two warm ups. Another, perhaps the same who had sensed freedom earlier, attempted a leap over the boundary to no avail.

Fashion In The Bush – shoes optional – provided halftime entertainment, before the grand final. First prize was a fishing trip for four.

Thunder rumbled overhead. The race began, and they were off. Mostly. One needed a hurry up, which a barefooted, fascinator-wearing punter was happy to give, climbing over the bales to give him a nudge.

But it was Tab who brought it home for his sponsor, Harris.

Belinda Harris with race-winning crocodile Tab.
Belinda Harris from Melbourne with race-winning crocodile Tab. Photograph: Helen Davidson for the Guardian

“I’ve done a lot of work with him over the years,” she joked afterwards, holding Tab high for a victory celebration.

“How old is he?” she asked the handler. About one and a half, he replied.

“OK, so for a year and a half I’ve been doing a lot of work with this crocodile,” she continued, giggling. “Getting up early, and I put a little harness on him and we go for little walks down the street.”

There was time for a quick round at the bar before the cane toad races began.

An objectively disgusting activity, sponsors held their own toad while a name tag was attached. Some gave them good luck kisses, likely setting them up for the kind of hangover one gets after a night on cigarettes, except worse.

Man holding cane toad
No mere spectators: sponsors hold their own toads before the Berry Springs race – some even go so far as to give them a kiss for luck. Photograph: Helen Davidson for the Guardian

The cane toads were placed under a bucket in the centre of the ring. The bucket lifted, and sponsors got down on all fours, blowing air through straws to hurry the toads along.

People fell over themselves, some diving for their toad, others trying to avoid them all together. Toads hopped to the hay bales, dodging knees and flailing arms.

The winner was triumphant and the toads went back in the bucket. While the crocs – on loan from Crocodylus Park – were going home, the toads were destined for a freezer.

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