Sunday

Would you like to guess what we're looking at here, reader? Click on the image for a larger view if you need one, but I knew as soon as I stepped into this room: there was a snake on the windowsill, and it was inside the insect screen (one of the few insect screens on any window in this house that actually has no holes in it). That snake was right here in this room. Bloody hell! Bloody bloody hell!

I was walking in here to close the window because it had just started raining, and thank God it had, because otherwise I wouldn't have walked into this room to close the window, and that snake would now be somewhere in this room without me knowing about it.

It must have come through a hole in the bottom of the window frame (designed to let rainwater out, presumably), or maybe I just hadn't noticed the screen was loose at the side somewhere. It got in. That's the point. A fucking snake - another one - got into this room. My haven. My safe little island. The place I feel okay. Bloody hell.

I got the broom from the next room and hit the insect screen with it, and the screen just flew out (thank God), as did the poor little snake who seemed just as keen as I did for our meeting to end as soon as possible. Then I closed the window and cried. And then I started shaking and cursed my stupid fucking useless life wherein which I have to chase the snakes out of this fucking room and this fucking life on my own. Where is the justice? And why am I such a drama queen? Some things have no answers.

It was probably a harmless tree snake, and if you know different, I don't want to hear it. I'm almost certain it was a tree snake, and this is the third time in about as many weeks that I've seen it, though this is the first and hopefully last time it'll ever be in this room.

And so. The end. Was there any point to this story? No. Is there any point to my existence? No. Is there any point to any fucking thing? No. And yet it goes on. Boo fucking hoo. God, I hate snakes.

Feral animals shouldn't look so cute

The rabbits around here are breeding like rabbits at the moment - they're everywhere! I saw these characters this morning while standing on the verandah taking photos of the sunrise. The bitumen you can see is the driveway, not a public road, so they weren't in any danger of being run over. Not that they seemed worried by the possibility anyway... particularly not the one reclining in the first photo. At first I thought it must have been injured - its back legs broken or something. But no, it really was just lazing there.

And these are all separate individuals, by the way (and there are three in the third photo, in case you miss one or two). There were eight of them altogether.

Out with the old

Here it is, the last day of 2006, and I guess we all should be shedding our skins in one way or another, making way for the new. But I didn't expect to see this happen literally. There's a snake skin out on the verandah, one half of it hanging overhead and swinging in the breeze. I walked out to take a photo of the sunrise this morning, about as alert as usual (ie. completely braindead) and nearly died of shock.

I'm so scared of snakes, or have been up until this year. I thought maybe I was starting to lose this fear though. On the three occasions this season that I've seen a snake, I've been more curious than afraid - for the first time ever.

But not so fast, baby. I took photos of the snake skin this morning - they're over in my archives** - but I was scared just standing near it. And I'm less than overly keen on the idea that somewhere nearby, probably overhead, probably in the roof, there's a snake who has outgrown its skin.

In many ways this is a stupid fear. Back in September one of the North Coast newspapers, The Village Journal, ran an article about snakes (warning: includes close-up photo of a snake's face) which included the following:

But what you may like to consider is that the snake that lives around or near your premises, be it in the paddock or garage, knows you, as it has lived within its territory since it was born and in some cases that can be up to 50-60 years. Most snakes have a very long life. It knows when you hang out the washing, it knows when you go to sleep and the coast is clear, it knows to stay out of your way. The one time you spot it sunning itself or hunting for food, it will be as surprised as you, but will not strike as long as you leave it alone, and give it a chance to get away from you. You have simply noticed it for the first time, whereas it may have seen you thousands of times before.

It's stupid to be afraid of them, in other words, because they want to stay out of our way just as much as we want to stay out of theirs.

Still. Who ever had a fear because it was sensible? (Apart from all those boring fears that can save your life, I mean.)

Am I reaching a conclusion with this post? No, not really. Here's the end. Out with the old, I say, but maybe it just takes a while.

** It's worth the effort of starting a secondary blog just so you can put things there and enjoy the groovy geeky pleasure of saying, "They're over in my archives, yeah!" :)

I can't think of a title (1)

The sky this morning.

Question: What's wrong with the photo?
Answer: (See the end of this post.**)

And now to other news...

After doing some mowing today I found a leaf on my shirt, so I flicked at it but it wouldn't move. And this is why:


It was a cicada. It was clinging to my shirt with sharp little feet.

(click image for a larger version)
Very quiet, very cute, and now back outside with all the other cicadas.

** The photo is upside down. Correct answer wins you 10 points and a happy 2007.