Clunk clunk clunk — I've hit a hollow sounding spot in the ground. The group huddles round and we use sticks to dig haphazardly in the mud. Could this finally be dinner? Alas ... it's just another rock, so with grumbling stomachs we resume prodding the damp earth in search of turtles that have buried themselves for the hot season.

Thankfully, our leader is more adept at her work. Patsy Raglar's agile form streaks ahead, gliding through the swamp in bare feet … quiet and observant, tapping attentively at the ground. After half-an-hour of fruitless tapping the rest of us give up and return to the truck, resigned to just a tiny ration of white apple for the evening. Minutes later, Pasty calls out triumphantly and we rush to 'ooh' and 'ahh' in admiration as she holds up her bounty — two fat, long-necked turtles.

No, this isn't an episode of Survivor but an Animal Tracks tour in World Heritage listed Kakadu National Park. Patsy is one of the local Bininj (Kakadu's Aboriginal people) who knows this land like the back of her hand. Her father was a famous local medicine man who taught his family the traditional skills for bush survival. Just seven hours on the Animal Tracks tour with Pasty and her offsider, Sean Arnold opens up an entirely new world to whitefellas like me.

Animal Tracks operates on a buffalo farm in the middle of Kakadu. Buffalos were introduced to the Top End from Timor as beasts of burden in the 1800s but quickly ran amuck when European settlements were abandoned, devastating top-soil and wetlands in what is now Kakadu National Park.

Culling reduced the park's buffalo population to small numbers and the environment recovered enough to flourish today but the Bininj had come to value buffalo as a food source so Patsy and her husband run this small farm to provide meat for local Aboriginal people.

This is an area rarely visited by the average tourist, but then Animal Tracks is not an average tour. If your idea of experiencing Aboriginal culture is an afternoon in an air-conditioned museum followed by a latte, then tracking with Patsy is probably not for you. Some people may find parts of the experience confronting — there's blood and guts and being cute isn't criteria for not ending up on a plate. Sean points out that squirming has been a typical whitefella response to much of traditional Aboriginal culture over the last two hundred odd years and one the rest of us must overcome in order to truly respect their unique ability as hunter/gatherers.

Despite having grown up on a farm and priding myself on a penchant for steak cooked 'blue', I've never so much as caught a fish, let alone watched a turtle turned into dinner in front of my eyes. Nevertheless, by the end of a day's tracking, I'm helping pluck magpie geese feathers and watching Patsy deftly gut and cut the birds in awe.

While the type of bush tucker available depends on the season, Patsy passes on some perennial knowledge. She rolls a bundle of green ants in her hand and declares it an excellent flu remedy — indeed, the tangy ants taste amazingly like vitamin C tablets. She strips a wattle tree's bark and ties it around our heads — the cool, sappy underside acts as a compress and is a good headache cure (a group member nursing a slight hangover later attests to the validity of its healing powers). Paperbark has a number of diverse uses — it's flammable enough to get a fire roaring in seconds yet tough enough to make plates and waterproof roofing.

Patsy's makeshift ovens are another revelation — she wraps the magpie geese first in green leaves for extra flavour and then in paperbark (yet another use, it makes great bush 'foil') before burying the birds in coals and hot rocks from the fire to roast slowly.

While Patsy puts the finishing touches to her bush tucker, Sean prepares a delicious damper in the coals that we drizzle with maple syrup and wash down with billy tea.

Then the moment of truth … and I'm pleasantly surprised. Cuts of the turtle taste like char-grilled squid and the magpie goose has a 'gamey' roast beef flavour. Served with a comfit of raspberries and a side dish of mashed potato, we speculate it could be the piece-de-resistance on one of Neil Perry's most extravagant menus. I go back for seconds and thirds.

Driving back to our accommodation at the small settlement of Cooinda, Patsy tells us tales from her childhood and Sean teaches us how to say 'goodbye' in her native Gune language. We drop Patsy at her home, wishing her "Bobo", then return to our hotel, tired but satisfied after one of the most memorable dining experiences of our lives.

Australia offers a myriad of unusual dining experiences for the adventurous foodie.

YOUR SAY: Have you ever have an outback tucker experience? What did you think of it? Tell us below!