IT WAS dawn and cold on the billabong and as thin sunlight began to penetrate the density of the freshwater mangrove trees, a silent drama played out on the water's edge.

A young, brown-flecked night heron poked around in the mud seemingly unaware that, just metres away, it was in the cross hairs of the motionless mistress of Big Arse.

Big Arse is an elderly 5m salty who, together with his smaller nameless girlfriend, inhabits the Mary River Wetlands in the Northern Territory, reputedly the largest concentration of saltwater crocodiles in the southern hemisphere. Nameless girlfriend remained motionless, the night heron ignored her and the small punt carrying half a dozen guests of the Wildman Wilderness Lodge continued its sunrise tour of Home Billabong.

Australia's newest nature-based tourism venture opened last April about halfway between Darwin and Kakadu after a fleet of 18 triple road trains introduced a touch of bush luxury to one of the Northern Territory's most magnificent wetlands.

About 80 per cent of Wildman Wilderness Lodge began life in Queensland as the 5-star Wrotham Park Lodge on a cattle station 350km west of Cairns before the global financial crisis burst its bubble.

Instead of pulling the plug, the owners dismantled the buildings, loaded them on to the road trains, transported them 2800km to their new home on the edge of the Mary River Wetlands and reassembled them with only a few additions.

The result is a stylish eco-lodge with the 10 transplanted, airconditioned cabins and 15 new African-style tented cabins all large, luxurious, with private decks and uninterrupted views across to the wetlands.

Neddy Tambling is the lodge's indigenous ranger and was our guide on the billabong tour, armed with a rollicking sense of humour and unquenchable enthusiasm.

A member of the local Uwiynmil clan group, Neddy pointed out a regal sea eagle, crocodile slides in the mud, how file snakes live in the water under pandanus trees and the iridescent beauty of kingfishers flitting through black wattle trees.

We saw a wild pig tilling mud like a demented farmer, Burdekin ducks, a heron as rigidly erect as a Coldstream Guard and, on the distant wetland, a cantankerous-looking wild buffalo returning our gaze.

Punting on the billabongs was one way to see the wetlands; another option was to see the bigger picture by helicopter. Flying low above the blue and green wetscape, pilot Phil O'Driscoll swooped across the open woodland, paperbark forests, pandanus swamps, floodplains and more billabongs.

Beneath us were flocks of magpie geese and cockatoos, wild pigs, horses, fishermen in dinghies on the twisting Mary River and the unseen but ever-present crocodiles.

General manager Cameron Harms managed Wrotham Park and oversaw its transplant to the Top End. Now he extols the obvious virtues of the property he has inherited, its green credentials and all the best-practice technology down to its sewage treatment plant.

Wildman Lodge has a large central complex with reception, restaurant, a spacious lounge bar and conference room and, outside overlooking the wetlands, an outdoor lounge deck with a fire pit, sumptuous sofas and an infinity-edge pool.

"We don't want to be as commercial as Kakadu," he said. "We're a more intimate setting and a 5-star lodge all the way."

We joined Neddy again for a sunset walk around a sea of termite towers to the edge of the wetlands where he described the intricacies of catching, dispatching and cooking goannas, file snakes and turtles, all of which made    me inexplicably hungry.

Along with most of Wrotham Park, Harms also transplanted its executive chef, amiable Aaron Lee, who turned up for a cooking demonstration using the fire pit on the outside deck. He showed how to cook ocean trout and scallops in a camp oven over coals using rosemary, lime and lemon myrtle. Wonderful tucker, but not a patch on the pan-fried barramundi he dished up for dinner.

The writer was a guest of Wildman Wilderness Lodge.