Residents of Cikiwul, a semi-rural area on the outskirts of Bekasi City in West Java, Indonesia, were shocked recently when a large crocodile appeared in a rice field, forcing farmers to flee and prompting an emergency rescue by the local fire and rescue service. The incident, which ended without injuries, has reignited concern over human–crocodile encounters in Indonesia, the country that now records the highest number of crocodile attacks on humans in the world.
According to local accounts, farmers in Cikiwul village were tending to their paddy fields when they noticed unusual movement in an irrigation channel bordering the rice plots. Moments later, a sizeable crocodile — estimated by residents to be more than two meters long — was seen crawling out of the muddy water onto the bund between fields. Startled workers raised the alarm and contacted neighborhood officials, who in turn called the Bekasi fire and rescue service (Damkar).
A rescue team arrived with basic capture gear: ropes, nets, and wooden poles typically used for handling stray snakes or monitor lizards. After cordoning off the area and clearing onlookers from the field edges, the team managed to lasso the reptile around its jaw and front limbs. The crocodile’s mouth was then restrained with rope before it was lifted onto a makeshift stretcher and transported to a secure holding facility, pending handover to conservation authorities.
Bekasi, now one of Indonesia’s largest and fastest-growing cities, sits directly east of Jakarta and forms part of the vast Greater Jakarta metropolitan area. Bekasi’s population has been officially estimated at more than 2.6 million people in 2024, making it the third most populous city in Indonesia after Jakarta and Surabaya. Yet despite rapid urbanization, the city and its surrounding districts still include rivers, fish ponds, wetlands, and agricultural land — the kind of watery environments that can attract crocodiles moving along connected waterways.
West Java, the province that includes Bekasi, is Indonesia’s most populous province, home to more than 50 million people as of mid-2024 according to official estimates by Statistics Indonesia (BPS). As residential and industrial zones expand outward from Jakarta, remaining green spaces, irrigation canals, and rivers are increasingly squeezed between concrete and asphalt — conditions that can heighten human–wildlife encounters when animals follow watercourses into urban fringes.
While a crocodile basking beside a rice field in Bekasi is unusual enough to go viral on Indonesian social media, it is not an isolated sign of a broader problem. Over the last decade, Indonesia has recorded more crocodile attacks on humans than any other country. A global database of crocodile incidents, CrocAttack, has logged more than 1,000 attacks in Indonesia in the 10 years to 2023, leading to 486 deaths according to reporting that draws on the database and expert analysis.
More recent figures point to an ongoing upward trend. In 2024 alone, Indonesia registered 179 crocodile attacks — the highest number of attacks recorded in any country that year — resulting in 92 fatalities, according to data compiled by CrocAttack and reported by international media. Conservation experts and researchers say many of these incidents occur in rivers, estuaries, and artificial ponds in coastal or low-lying areas where people rely on the same waters for fishing, bathing, and transportation.
In published research and field reports, scientists have linked the rise in attacks to habitat disturbance and land-use change, including the expansion of palm oil plantations and mining in sensitive coastal and riverine ecosystems. One study cited by Indonesian and international outlets found that provinces such as Bangka-Belitung, East Nusa Tenggara, and East Kalimantan have become particular hotspots for dangerous encounters, as crocodiles are displaced from natural waterways and come into closer contact with human settlements (a pattern summarised in recent coverage of Indonesia’s crocodile conflict hotspots).
Indonesia is home to several crocodile species, including the powerful saltwater crocodile (Crocodylus porosus), the world’s largest living reptile and one of the most aggressive crocodilians. These reptiles can exceed six meters in length and are capable of traveling long distances along coastlines and rivers, occasionally venturing inland via interconnected waterways and canals. While it is not yet clear what species the Bekasi rice field crocodile belongs to, the presence of a large individual so close to homes underlines a recurring challenge for local authorities.
Crocodiles in Indonesia are protected under national conservation laws, meaning they cannot be killed except under very limited circumstances. Instead, dangerous animals must usually be captured and relocated. Conservation officers and local fire or disaster response agencies often work together to trap crocodiles using baited cages or manual restraints before moving them to crocodile farms, rescue centers, or less populated habitats. But the country’s growing number of conflicts is stretching these systems.
Field data from coastal regions illustrate how intense the conflict has become. In one protected area in India’s Bhitarkanika National Park — a site often studied for comparison — estuarine crocodile numbers rose from fewer than 100 animals in the 1970s to more than 1,800 by 2025, alongside dozens of attacks and deaths in surrounding villages according to figures released by local forest and wildlife officials and reported by regional media. Although this example is outside Indonesia, it mirrors the pressures seen in many Indonesian provinces where both crocodile populations and human density are climbing.
For Cikiwul’s farmers, the sudden arrival of a large predator in the middle of their workplace has left a lingering unease. Local accounts describe parents rushing to bring children indoors and farmers refusing to enter certain fields until authorities confirmed the animal had been fully removed. Word of the appearance spread quickly via messaging apps and local news clips, with short videos of the restrained crocodile shared widely on social media — part of a broader trend in Indonesia, where dramatic footage of crocodiles in villages or riverbanks now circulates with unsettling regularity.
Experts say that such incidents highlight the need for stronger public education and emergency protocols in fast-urbanizing districts like Bekasi. Conservation organizations and researchers have repeatedly called for better signage, community awareness campaigns, and early-warning systems in areas known to be part of crocodile ranges. National and international reports emphasize that Indonesia is grappling with around 150 crocodile attacks and roughly 85 deaths each year on average, according to analyses of incident data and expert testimony. Although most of those incidents occur far from Bekasi’s suburbs, the Cikiwul encounter is a reminder that the problem is not confined to remote coastlines or forest fringes.
From the perspective of local government, incidents like the Bekasi rice field crocodile are as much about land-use planning as wildlife management. The city and its neighbouring regencies are continuing to expand housing estates, industrial parks, and roads, while still retaining pockets of rice cultivation and aquaculture. Without careful mapping of wildlife corridors and water networks, officials warn, people and crocodiles are likely to cross paths more often in unexpected places.
Policy discussions in Indonesia have increasingly focused on how to protect rural livelihoods, ensure public safety, and maintain viable crocodile populations, all at the same time. Conservationists argue that crocodiles play an important ecological role at the top of the food chain, helping regulate fish and other animal populations in rivers and wetlands. At the same time, communities who have lost family members or livestock to crocodile attacks are demanding more decisive action, from stricter access controls around rivers to expanded capture-and-relocation programs.
In Cikiwul, the rapid response by the Bekasi fire and rescue service ensured that a frightening scene in a rice field ended without bloodshed. Farmers have since returned to their paddies, albeit more cautiously, and local authorities say they will continue monitoring irrigation canals and rivers for signs of other large reptiles.
But the episode is more than a one-off curiosity. It encapsulates a broader environmental story sweeping across Indonesia: as cities like Bekasi grow outward and natural habitats are altered, encounters between humans and apex predators are becoming more frequent and more dangerous. The spectacle of a crocodile being carried out of a West Java rice field by firefighters may be dramatic enough to capture social media attention for a day. For policymakers, conservationists, and villagers alike, it is also a clear warning that the front line of human–wildlife conflict is moving ever closer to the urban fringe.
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