Tourists, crocodiles mingle on Jamaica's Black River. By mid-morning, it seems, every creature in this sleepy seaside town is stirring. Women gut fish in the market, dogs and goats forage through piles of garbage - and crocodiles float casually in the Black River, warming their blood in the soothing sun. It's showtime for Michael Griffiths. With his boatload of tourists watching agape, he stands on the bow and splashes a chicken breast in the murky waters.
Cameras start clicking.
But in a flash the beast is gone, spooked by the engine of another boat. I give them a little bit of food and they don't eat me. Sometimes I pet them on the head, you know, to let them know I care. Not always were Jamaica's saltwater crocodiles so coddled. They were once so plentiful along the island's south coast that their image crowns the country's coat of arms and is stenciled onto bumpers of Jamaica Defense Force vehicles.