We are deep in a forest crowded by Australian paperback trees, the air thick with humidity but eerily silent save for the screeching of tropical birds, when Marcus shouts: "Look, crocodiles!"

As a Reuters photojournalist, I'm a trained observer, but I can't see any crocs. I can't see anything beyond mud and what little water is left in the small billabong.

Aboriginal hunters Marcus and Roy, a father-and-son team, take off running past a herd of water buffalo and by the time I catch up Roy is standing ankle-deep in murky water, his shotgun pointed at the surface.