Stomp Stomp.
Apartment owner: Are you going for a walk to the beach?
Me: Yes. Saw a tiger snake down the path yesterday, but I won't let it deter me.
Apartment owner: Tiger snake, eh? What did it look like?
Me: Kind of...black. With tiger stripes.
Apartment owner: Aw, those'll be okay. Do you know what a brown snake looks like?
Me: .....
Apartment owner: Seriously.
Me: Er....brown?
Apartment owner: Yep. And big. They're mean, too.
Me: Great.
Apartment owner: Yeah, there's a lot of snakes down that path. But what I usually do is, before I head up the sandy bit, I stomp my feet really hard. That puts the wind up them; gets them moving.
Me: Okay, will do.
Apartment owner: And if I come across some stubborn bugger that just sits there in the sun like 'ohhhh, can't be fucked moving', I chuck a few sticks at it.
Me: Even the mean ones?
Apartment owner: I do it from a distance.
Me: Understood.
***************************
Look, I'm not saying I'm not particularly brave. But if anyone in the vicinity of Tallow Beach comes across a milky writer in a big hat and little shorts not only stamping her tiny feet in the ground like she's trying to kill a groundhog but additionally shouting the words STOMP STOMP at the top of her voice, don't judge. She's probably just a little bit terrified and wishing someone a lot more au fait with reptiles would come along and help her.
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Isn't there another path to the beach? Even a flightpath would be better than waiting for the anitvenene to arrive.
They make very stylee gumboots these days.
I even saw some leopard print ones in a Target catalogue.
I grew up around Copperheads, Browns, Tigers and Redbellied Blacks (this is starting to sound like ocker Kill Bill), and the Redbellies are the only ones I'd trust enough to mess around with.
If they're on a concrete path, though, stomping on it will often scare them away. Your local council will have the number of someone who can catch the snake for milking. Don't try it yourself though - very hard to get the cups on the teats.
Story of my life, Marmalade.
He calls as loudly as possible to his host, who strolls over to the petrified city slicker and, seeing his predicament, explains calmly in a low drawl "Don't worry mate, it's more scared of you than you are of it"
The sweating and white-faced town mouse swivels his eyes toward the farmer and hisses "Well he must be fucking scared of me... I just pissed myself"
Spare undies, fits, spare undies. Always.
Don't take a gun.
If the eco-Nazis and gun control freaks weren't running the country, your problems would be solved.
On a practical level, you need blundstones for protection. A big stick is always reassuring (and useful for waving off magpies) but ultimately only useful if you're rather adept at flinging said snakes into the distance...
I will probably have nightmares now.
Honestly, is the beach that good - do you really need to go there if there is even the slightest chance of snakes?
Time for a visit when even the snakes on beach paths make you nostalgic.
Sigh.
Ensconce yourself in fine square plastic mesh. The buggers slither through the mesh until they get stuck then are unable to back pedal so they die. There are more than superficial parallels with slithering Liberal politicians but snakes are comparatively harmless.
So for you, out with flower in long dark tresses, in with whole body mesh fascinator with snakes in successive states of decay. New Way indeed and so Sydney.
99 percent of the time, a snake will go away because of the vibrations. Or at least stay where it is, then you can get the hell outta there.
The snake stick is to break its back, if necessary. I had to do this once when I was a kid with my grandfather's hoe (no pun intended) and the hoe was so old and rotten that it broke and we had a very angry injured black snake to deal with.
Now that was scary.
Thanks for the image of your tiny self perched on milky legs trying desperately to provide warning vibrations. I wouldn’t worry. The demise of poor Mr Irwin shows that it is the wild-eyed thrill seeker rather than cautious urbanite who is likely to be fanged or squeezed slowly into submission.
And snakes are certainly preferable to having rats running across the path in front of you, which is something I encounter regularly on the bike trails of Melbourne.
*lifts feet off ground for fear of cammo snakes around the office*
Ouch.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tf1BoLcv-DU&feature=related
What? Steve Irwin's death somehow negates all other deaths-by-native-predators? One man dying does not give any "cautious urbanites" mysterious shrouds of protection, especially when insisting on walking along a path known to be home to brown snakes.
"i went to a snake show on the weekend at our local show... "
I went to the very same show! The guy was missing a finger. I suggest 'not' pointing at snakes. It ain't polite.
welcome
Ah wouldn't worry bout em. Them old fears is only in ya head. Wouldn't leave the house otherwise.
They bought a cat and now all the snakes have gone somewhere else. Would Bob Ellis put up with a little pussy do you think? (smirk).
Ha.
I'll piggy back you to the beach if you like.
http://abduzeedo.com/awesome-pin-ups-vintage-inspiration
...don't mention it ;)
I arrived at about the same time as Bob Ellis, the Sydney writer. He was wearing a duffle coat and clutching a bottle of Mateus Rose. We moved to the table talking about various things while Ellis struggled to extract the cork from his bottle. Eventually he reached into the pocket of his duffle coat and produced a hankercheif whcih he wrapped around the bottle opener. As the cork finally emerged so too did a condom which fell out of the hankerchief and into the bowl of Greek salad. He realised what had happened and said "I suppose you think I'm very old fashioned". We avoided that particuler salad.
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