always look ahead

Graham -- all 6'-5" of his lean tanned self -- is striding toward us across the short dry grass. We hug him, then Rel. We have not seen him or her, John's first cousin and his wife, for eight years, but he does not waste time.

"You must know it right away and then we do not need to talk about it," he says. "When you walk around here, always look six or eight feet ahead of you. Do not just walk and look up at a bird: stop first, look at the ground, and then at your bird. Never the other way around."

Queensland, Australia, has been baking in high temps for some days now, piling them on top of several years of hard drought. But this is September and early spring, and even here in semi-tropics most snakes should be hibernating just a bit longer.  Yet they are not.  And -- according to Graham and Rel -- they are all out by now, driven out of their dens and tree hollows by heat. Hungry and active. Aggressive.

"Let me tell you what you do when you meet one," Graham continues. "You stop. Then you reach, very slowly, for your hat. Take it off and toss it between you and the snake. Not at the snake; this will only annoy him. Toss it on the ground between you and him. He will concentrate on your hat, and you back off. Slowly."

Got it. But what about their dogs? We already know they have two, Billie Jean and Roger. Do the dogs just walk, too, and stop and look?  No: they run. And Rel, who talked to a local vet after they settled on this hilltop two years ago, knows that one day the dogs may also run out of luck.

To double check, I ask if all local snakes are venomous and turns out they are, except for some pythons and tree snakes. And if I want their names, common and otherwise, Graham is ready with a list of the species which frequent his short grass yard and his and Rel's flower and veg gardens. There is Death alder with its stubby tail, and glossy Small-eyed snake, and pretty Red-naped snake, and aggressive and ever ready Tiger snake, and deadly Coastal taipan, and Red-bellied black snake, and Eastern brown snake and Rough-scaled snake. The last one is nocturnal which is not very helpful if you want to stroll around after the heat releases its grip and the stars nail the night sky.

I love snakes and want to hold one who will love me back just a little. Hard call: the best I can hope for is a Carpet python which resides at a nearby reptile oasis and can be handled. We pile in the new shiny family ute with Rel at the wheel, and drive a mile down the road. For her, Graham and John, this is purely a friendly gesture to please one crazy Pole.

The snake I am allowed to hold -- named Joe -- has already eaten and is used to crazy people. He is long and thick, with pronounced olive markings, longitudinal stripes and a cream belly. And he feels like a lovely cold compress around my neck. I imagine he may -- in return -- like the high temps of my overheated body. I stand in the shimmering shade of a wattle tree, smell his smooth scales and feel his head slithering back and forth across my left shoulder blade. I let him slither as long as he likes.

And then we drive home across dusty groves of avocado, macadamia nut and mango trees, greet the dogs, open a bunch of passionfruit globes full of sun, and wait for the night.

©Yva Momatiuk