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How to make a crocodile smile

Life is not bad for a crocodile named Pui Pui. Hong Kong's favourite reptile currently lives in 600 sq ft purpose-built quarters at Kadoorie Farm. Home comes complete with a sizeable filtered swimming pool and a discrete retreat where she can retire, should the press of curious humans become too intrusive. Nothing is too good for the scaly reptile from the putrid waters of the Yuen Long nullah.

In 2003, voters chose Pui Pui as Hong Kong's Personality of the Year after the crafty juvenile saltwater crocodile eluded professional and amateur hunters for seven months.

She became a folk hero, and is probably the only reptile in history to have her own website (www.yuenlongcroc.com) and a children's book about her adventures. At Kadoorie Farm, she attracts up to 1,000 visitors daily.

I can see why. I feel a bond with the wily reptile. She's a classic Hongkonger: self-sufficient, intolerant of interfering bureaucracy, tough and a mite cranky. She just wants to be left alone to get on with business, which, in her case, is eating rats, birds, fish, frogs and anything else that comes within snapping distance of her formidable jaws.

When the 1.5-metre crocodile arrived at the farm two years ago, she weighed about 14kg. A steady diet has now bulked out her frame.

Hong Kong took the elusive reptile to its heart in the autumn of 2003, soon after someone noticed a stranger-than-usual creature sliding through the rancid waters around the Yuen Long nullah. Within days, the crocodile - thought to have originated in Australia and freed here by an irresponsible owner - was the focus of worldwide television cameras.

Reptile farmer and crocodile-catcher John Lever was flown from Australia to catch the creature, joining scores of ambitious Yuen Long farmers and fishermen, who suddenly became ardent Crocodile Dun-Lees. When Pui Pui was finally noosed, there was a widespread feeling of regret that a free spirit had been caged.

Now, she is moving quarters. She will have a permanent abode at Mai Po's new wetland park. The crocodile, which could live for 80 years and grow up to five metres long, is certain to be a star attraction at the 61-hectare park.

The naturalist haven under the shadow of the soaring tower blocks of Tin Shui Wai is a water wonderland of mangroves, marshes, swamps, ponds and mudflats. Scientists have tracked 190 species of birds, 39 different dragonflies, 100 varieties of butterflies, plus amphibians, reptiles, mammals and fish. And one Australian saltwater crocodile.

But Pui Pui has a looming personal problem. In a few years, she will be ready to mate. Do we intend to keep her captive her entire life? Will the hunt be on for a partner, or will she be set free, maybe somewhere on the swampy coast of Northern Australia?

As far as anyone knows, there are no plans for Pui Pui but to spend her life in lonely splendour in her glamorous wetlands cage. That seems a sad fate for an animal that grabbed the imagination of Hong Kong as an elusive symbol of freedom.

I would like to see Pui Pui set free. If naturalists think she is unable to survive and thrive in the wilds of her native Australia, I am sure Mr Lever would provide a haven at his crocodile farm in Queensland. It saddens me to imagine her growing and ageing in captivity.

If they thought about her fate, I believe Hongkongers would unite in a call to set Pui Pui free.

Kevin Sinclair is a Hong Kong reporter who lives in the New Territories

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