Snakes, a new and constant threat

Day: 278-288 Stage Three expedition days total 668-679

Sunrise:
05:45-05:52

Sunset:
18-35-18:29

Total kilometers:
6980 km

Temperature - Day (maximum):
22°-31 degrees, sun 40°-50°

Temperature - Night:
20°-25°

Latitude:
23°22'32.9"

Longitude:
150°24'01.3"

Paradise Lgoons-Camp – 17.02.2003 – 28.02.2003

While Tanja has been sewing a saddle for hours, I’m working on our Ford. Two doors no longer open, the headlights are as dim as flickering candles in the wind and the speedometer has given up the ghost.

“Ooooaaahhh!” Tanja’s strange call from the driver’s door startles me. “What’s wrong?” I ask her. Tanja points without comment to the saddle she has been sewing. “A snake?” I call out. “Yes, a big snake,” she replies. I take the 1 ½ meter long plastic tube leaning against a post and go to the saddle. “It’s under the saddlebag. I’ve just finished my work and put the saddlebag up when I discovered her underneath. Her head has been just a few centimeters away from my hand for the last few hours,” she explains. I carefully push the end of the plastic tube under the saddlebag and lift it up a little. Her snake head immediately shoots up and looks at us. “Huuuaaahh! That’s a big King Brown. You’ve been incredibly lucky. How many hours did you sew on it?” I ask. “Probably two or three.” “Wow, you must have been under the protection of several angels. If they had bitten you? Unthinkable,” I say in a respectful voice, feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand up and drop the saddlebag again. “How are we supposed to get them out?” Tanja asks. “We’d best wait until one of the wrestlers comes back. Together we’ll get them there first,” I reply.

A little later, Tanja looks for another saddle to repair this one too. Before she starts her work, she takes the plastic pipe and beats on it until she is sure that none of the dangerous creepy-crawlies live in it. Then she sits down at the Afghan pack saddle just two meters away from the deadly threat and begins her sewing work.

When Hamish comes home from work, I tell him the snake story. “That must be the same King Brown that Mike almost stepped on a few days ago. We have to get rid of it, otherwise one of us will get bitten,” he says. To protect myself from a possible bite, I put leather leggings over my shoes. Then I grab the plastic pipe and I’m ready for the snake hunt. Hamish is armed with a shovel and is now standing with me in front of the packsaddle. Tanja has her camera ready to photograph the scene. She stands at a safe distance diagonally behind us. “Is she still under there?” Hamish asks. “I think so. She seems to like it there,” I reply, touching the saddlebag with the plastic pipe. “Nothing. Nothing’s moving,” says Hamish. “I’m sure she’s still there. I can really feel her presence,’ I reply intently. I carefully push the tube under the saddlebag to lift it up. As soon as I’ve taken the bag off the saddle, the head of the deadly poisonous snake shoots up and looks at us. “Now! Come on, take the photo!” I shout excitedly. The flash hits the reptile, causing its head to whiz backwards as if hit by a bullet. “Did you see that? It reacted to the flash! I thought snakes were blind?” I say in amazement. After Tanja has taken the picture, I touch the King Brown with the pipe. She immediately hisses into the saddlebag. “It’s in the bag!” I shout. I’m just thinking about whether it would be a good idea to jump on the bag when Hamish shouts: “There she is!” Startled, I whirl around and see her fleeing behind me onto the open grass. “My God, I didn’t even notice how she left the bag. She’s incredibly fast!” Hamish and I rush after her. Then his shovel hurtles down and misses her. Once again the shovel whizzes at the poisonous animal and again it manages to get away at the last second. “Quick, she’s fleeing into the tall grass!” Hamish shouts, but before we reach the fence she disappears into the reeds. “And now?” I want to know. “We’ll build a fire at the edge of the reeds. Then she’ll definitely come out,” says Hamish.

I don’t feel comfortable with this proposal. Even though it may sound strange, I don’t want to kill them. Tanja and I look at each other. I know she feels the same way. In principle, we are against killing animals, even if they are snakes. They are an important link in our ecosystem. However, as snakes always live in the same territory, they are a serious threat next to farmhouses. If you drive them away, they come back. As a rule, they feel at home wherever they are found. They particularly like it next to and around houses. There is waste here and where there is waste there are mice and frogs. These in turn are the main prey of the snakes and so the circle closes. The best thing, of course, would be to have a snake catcher from the area come. But we are too far away from that. Since most people in Australia are bitten when trying to catch or kill the snake, such an action is extremely dangerous. Even if we could get hold of an antidote relatively quickly here near Rockhamton, such a bite is often tragic. We know of cases in which people still suffer from the consequences of a bite years later, despite timely help from an antidote. It can take years for the body to cope with such massive poisoning. The time it can take to make a full recovery is a nightmare for the person affected.

The small area of reeds, only about 10 square meters in size, where the King Brown has taken refuge, is now on fire. Hamish and I stand at its edge, waiting for them, but nothing moves. “Maybe she has a hole in the ground in there?” I say, pondering. “You mean she lives there?” Tanja asks. “Who knows,” I reply. We wait quite a while before we give it up. “She gave us the slip,” says Hamish. “We can only hope that she doesn’t come back. Maybe this action was a waste of time for her,” I reply.

Just one day later, Tanja returns to the saddles to continue her mammoth task. She hits the saddlebags with the plastic pipe to make sure there is no snake inside. Then she sits down in front of the saddle and starts sewing. Suddenly, in the corner of her eye, she notices something moving next to her. She immediately jumps up. Again, it’s a King Brown that is wriggling out of one of the saddlebags. This time it is only about 70 centimeters long but just as dangerous as its big brother. John, one of the workers who also lives here with us, fetches a spade and removes Tanja from the danger.

Just a few days later, we lift a saddle that is standing on a plastic tarpaulin. This time there are three snakes among them. I remove them with extreme caution and speed. But not only snakes are our constant threat, but also poisonous spiders and also highly poisonous centipedes that love the shady, dry place under the house. They all want to conquer our saddles as their home. Tanja and I are now on constant alert. It’s all about not being bitten or stung by such a beast in the final days of the expedition.