It is a fact universally acknowledged that a woman in receipt of tiger snakes will be in need of a quart of petrol to burn down her house just to spite them. These have been my thoughts over the years as every January and February, the tigers laid siege to my house. I'd shut all the doors and windows as two tigers (who were very much in love) roamed around the front and back verandahs, frolicking, deadly, obviously intent on murdering me and my loved ones.
It's an emotional and psychological event for me and I find myself in this state at this time of year - rustle-jumpy and only walking where my path is clear. Plus, the trek up to the fire tower every morning is often stalled by a basking tiger or dugite, powering up for the day on the sunny north face. Last year, the hound was trotting back from her jaunt down the beach, when a tiger extended from the wood pile like a slinky toy at her. Selkie just moved around the snake and kept going. For a consumate brawler, she picks her battles. But it was enough for me to ask my boss if I could do a snake handling course - demystify my fear and learn about these creatures.
So today a disparate group of wildlife workers and others (such as one terrified firetower lady) gathered at the Business Centre where we were taught venomous snake handling and relocation skills. It began with power point slides. It always begins with power point slides. Jurassic Park? Snakes on a Plane? Indiana Jones going into that snake pit? It all began with power point slides, I'll bet my bottom dollar on that.
Then we were encouraged to engage some super friendly pythons to crawl all over us. I could see where this was going. Feeling a python's muscles is just amazing, I mean they are all muscle, and their skin is soft like a child's. Pythons are a gateway drug to tiger snakes, I know that right. Then we went outside and played with some fake rubber snakes. Who even has fake rubber snakes. We learned about how to pick up a snake with a crook and put it in a willow bin or a bag or maybe even a bin fire (not really).
Lunch break. I had a smoke out the back of the business centre with a spiritual healer who was doing readings there.
After lunch we were split into two groups, kind of like Squid Game. J let a tiger snake out her box and said, 'Who wants to go first?' She's called Lovely Lady, according to the label on the box, though she's probably a they as sexing snakes is quite difficult. Anyway, I was already shitting myself. As the beautiful animal slithered towards me her black and yellows flaring in the courtyard, the instructor gently 'raked' her away from me with his crook and focused on the catcher. I stepped back. But when it was my turn, the instructor lifted this snake into a bush. He seemed to like challenging me. 'What do I do now?' I asked. 'Drag it out?'
'Just wait,' he said. And so I did. The tiger worked her way down to the ground and I picked her up with the crook and put her into the willow bin where she nestled safely under a towel.
The next test - J let a king brown snake out. Oh my god this snake was the colour of the Pilbara, like pindan dirt, that beautiful mix of red and orange, a sunset. It came out of the box angry and twitchy. A woman in a red shirt walked through the courtyard, looking totally freaked out. She ran into the office, shut the sliding doors and stared at us through the glass.
The king brown was flattening like a cobra. It was probably one and a half metres long, bright orange and I was thinking 'yeah, nah. I'll pass this one'. But when it was my turn to bag this snake, something happened. The instructors' language was getting through to me. This is a timid creature. Sure it's not a wild creature. It's used for snake training after all. I put the tent-shaped bag in front of the snake. 'Trust,' said the instructor. 'Trust it will go in.' First, the king brown went past the bag and headed for my legs. Shelter apparently. And then it did. The snake slid into the bag. I held up the bag and felt the weight of this mighty snake slip to the bottom. Then I kind of froze. I looked at the instructor. 'I'm blanking!' I told him. I was sweating and quite stressed. 'What do I do next again?' and he reminded me how to close off the bag and then release the snake. Shake the bag, step back, shake the bag, step back and repeat.
The woman in the red shirt was still watching us from her office, eyes wide.
When we went indoors and learned how to deal with a snake inside a house, well that changed me. Food, water, shelter - what animal doesn't need that, including ourselves? As we chased the dugite under cupboards and around the room, I began to realise that snakes are vulnerable and they want to survive and they don't want to murder me. So basically, their whole life plan is to eat, live, grow babies and not murder Sarah. As I 'played' with this dugite with my new-found crooks and tong toys, I was feeling quite ashamed of the person I was. That child whose weapon was the snake chain (an axe handle with a long length of chain to kill snakes). That adult who squirts petrol and throws shovels at snakes. That person who says 'the only good snake is a dead one.'
Today has changed me. I'm still not really into tiger snakes around my house but I don't feel under siege anymore. Also, today I learned that tigers have facial recognition, much the same as magpies and ravens. So my crimes against the local tigers are probably on their Australia's Most Wanted database and I'm working to rectify that through earnest conversation with them.
