what’s not to like ..
The Byron hinterland is where a man can grab a couple of acres of land and grow whatever pleases him: tropical gardens, mangoes, oranges, mandarins .. how lovely, but there comes a time when he must water such beneficence, like today when I’m aiming the hose at a dry garden bed just outside the front door and prior to setting the hose to automatic the ground around the base of the thirsty plants I am attending to moves, slowly, inevitably. Inextricably.
Snakes do that, they don’t so much as hide but wait, wait for whoever discovers them to freeze. Like me.
He, or it must have been comfortable before the water disturbed its slumber and all ten feet of the camouflaged reptile slowly and irritably moved itself away from my innocently questing hand as I re-arranged the water flow.
Head raised. Tongue flickering.
Then the snake’s wicked head coiled back and poised itself.
Ten years up here and when faced with such a delicate situation a man immediately chooses his options, run the fuck away away or grab the long-handled shovel hanging off the garage wall and beat the unforgiving shit out of the reptile who, rather than slide away from the brutal attack appears to be attracted to the bare legs of the northern beaches drop-in who has yet to appreciate the safety of long trousers and sturdy boots.
The ending was brutal, for him that is, or it.
Twenty blows were delivered to its head then the poor bastard innocent bleeding diamond python was lifted and thrown down by the water tank where, no doubt, it will raise an almighty stink in a few days – unless the wild dogs fancy a free feed.
petebowes.com 