Close encounters

Some close encounters can be unsettling.  During the 80’s I became fond of observing Kimberley birds and I found myself travelling to diverse habitat locations to experience nature which was usually not much further away than the back door.  On one occasion I drove over two hundred kilometres to Camballin which is located on the Fitzroy River.  The Fitzroy has been known to flood fourteen kilometres over its banks in the wet season and Camballin was established to harness some of this resource by building a small dam wall to trap the water and use it for irrigation.  The Israelis who had great success turning desert into arable land in their own country, tried growing sorghum crops for some years here but pulled out when pests became too much to bear and the yields were poor.

I drove the yellow King Cab Datsun out past the remains of the Camballin farms down to the Barrage dam wall where I observed great numbers of fresh water crocodiles. From there I pushed on to a remote quiet section of the river and set up camp.  It was certainly a haven for birds with a great variety of honeyeaters and a pair of Jabiru graced the quiet waters of the Fitzroy.  I picked up my fold up chair and walked a hundred metres to a shaded section of the river which was cut off from the main tributary and was in fact a dry river bed.  It was now later afternoon and a perfect time to be attuned with nature.  “What a peaceful beautiful spot” I mused.  I sat for quite some time observing with my binoculars when I became aware that I had company.  There was a soft rustling nearby so I turned my attention from the tree tops to the ground around me and suddenly my heart jumped.  There it was – my worst nightmare!  A full grown king brown snake had appeared from nowhere not one metre from my bare feet.  It must have been 2 metres in length and I knew well about its reputation for aggression and venom “Hell, what was I to do???”  I was a long way from anywhere so this could be curtains for me.  We eyeballed each other and I think the snake was as surprised as I was to find a human in its pathway.  My anguish turned to inward panic as I noticed its head noticeably flatten.  I knew this was the moment before it struck.  As slowly as I could I turned my head away from its cold stare and ever so slightly tried to raise myself out of the chair.  This proved extremely difficult because it seemed like there was a saddlebag of lead pulling down on my shoulders.  Every muscle twinged and ached as I ever so carefully edged my way from imminent death.  For what seemed an eternity, I became semi erect and somehow took a few delicate steps away.  All the time the snake was poised ready to strike and when I was at a safe distance it reversed its direction and slivered noiselessly away.  Although I was shaking I pulled my binoculars to my eyes to get a better look at this magnificent specimen but found I was too close to focus.  I think the snake was as relieved as I was that we had both called a truce to our encounter.  It was later that snake experts told me the best thing to do in this situation is to calmly reach for your cap and throw it in the direction of the snake.  The theory being that when it strikes at your hat you make a bolt for it.  I thought “Oh yes, easy to say but it would scare the pejeevies out of me to have to do it.”

I became a lot more ‘snake wise’ after this incident thinking of contingency plans if I was to ever to find myself in that predicament again.  It must have been a few years later when I had another fascinating encounter.  This time I was travelled in my pick up through 2 metre high cane grass on a remote track out the other side of Derby just after the wet season.  The sight of a huge majestic taipan slivering across my path brought me to a screeching halt.  “What a magnificent, beautiful animal,” I thought as I rolled down the window for a better look.   It was right below my car door and I gazed at it for quite some moments as it paused and then ever so silently slipped away into the tall grass cover.  I couldn’t wait to come home that evening and tell my impressive story to the adoring public but their reaction was not what I expected.  “You did what?” they incredulously replied when I narrated my tale.  “You know they can rebound in an instant from the ground like a spring and latch on to your throat through the open window of a car.  The blood drained from my face as I recalled the incident and thought about what might have been.

It seems that snakes are never very far away in the Kimberley during the hot months even turning up in people’s back yards.  We always had our fair share at the school in Broome especially when the ground cover was ample.  One day we received a panic call from one of the students that a snake had been sighted by the side the West block building.  Terry, the gardener, was not one to muck around so he immediately raced to his nearby flat and grabbed his shotgun.  Terry was a rough little diamond in his senior years.  He was always sweating profusely so he had a handkerchief permanently hanging around his neck.  He was a man of action and as he headed for the snake scene there was a determined look on his face which seemed to indicate – “I’ll soon put an end to this problem.”  By this time a large gathering of onlookers had assembled and were eagerly pointing out the location of the snake.  Within an instant Terry had found his target and fired the shotgun with an explosion which brought more hordes of students to find out what was going on.  Terry reloaded and fired once more.  It was then that a chorus of laughter broke out because it became obvious that this was only an old piece of rope.  Terry blushed for a moment then reluctantly joined in the hilarity while sheepishly retreating with his deadly weapon.

There were other incidents around the College from time to time.  One of the school cleaners reached inside the broom closet only to grab a king brown which was wrapped around the handle and on another occasion we heard a series of shrieks from the laundry room.  By the time we raced over, three Aboriginal ladies were all standing on the sorting table in the centre of the room half laughing because they knew they were safe at present and half panicked not knowing how they were to make a safe retreat from the building.  Ivan, who had been a Park Ranger at Geikie Gorge and was now the science teacher, showed no fear at all but he wanted to milk the situation for a good laugh.  He came up behind Phyllis who seemed petrified of snakes and pinched her ankle.  As expected Phyllis noticeably jumped letting out a desperate yelp and an anguished expletive.  We never did find the snake, but we guessed that the ladies had scared it well out of harms way.

Many people refer to the Kimberley region of Western Australia as the last frontier.  This is true and it also refers to its isolation.  During one of our school holiday breaks I set out for the Mitchell Plateau in my 4 WD which is about 800 kilometres north of Broome and about as remote as you can get.  The roads there have corrugations so large that I witnessed the axle of a new 4 wheel drive Mitsubishi come adrift from the chassis on this stretch.  The journey into the Mitchell Falls is not for the faint hearted.  Signs which caution ‘steep descent’ really means ‘extremely not for the faint hearted, steep!  And crossing the King George River between large boulders with water lapping around your car door is enough to set your heart racing and the palms of your hands clammy with sweat. After I finally ran out of sunlight I decided to make camp and turn in for the night.  There’s nothing like sleeping out in the open and to awaken to the sounds of a cacophony of bird calls.  Lighting a fire is a simple matter of gathering a few leaves, small twigs and larger pieces of wood all abundantly close by.  Soon, I had the billy boiling and sat back in my fold up chair to enjoy this tranquil place but I was surprised when a morning visitor arrived.  It was a wild boar, quite an ugly animal I thought.  I cried out “Get out of here!”  But there was no reaction – it was just standing there defiantly.  I thought “I’ll show you who’s boss,” so I picked up a stone and rose to my feet.  With that it turned and bolted into the bush.  Later when I returned home I related the story to Ivan my Ranger friend and he immediately became agitated.  “You know wild boars can kill you”.  He then told me the story of Pete De Long the owner of Dampier Downs Station who decided he wanted a change from beef to pork for his menu.  His plan became terribly unstuck when the rifle shot only wounded the pig and it charged Peter causing life threatening damage with its tusks.  Somehow, Peter was able to crawl a long way to the Highway and seek help.  Luckily he was saved and in a romantic twist to the episode married the nurse who attended him in the Broome hospital.  “Well”, I thought, “That puts a different complexion on a morning in the bush that could have turned into a nightmare.”

Years later, I decided to take a bird watching tour in Northern Queensland.  I flew into Cairns and was greeted by the tour leader – Leslie Feather.  “I’m,” I thought “That’s an appropriate name”.  Soon we boarded an old 4 wheel drive army bus and we were on our way to the remote Iron Range National Park.  I glanced about the bus at my fellow bird watchers.  They were quite a weather beaten crew used to a lot of exposure no doubt.  Tina, an Italian lady from Bundaberg was to be my seating companion for the next two weeks.  I thought to myself  “That’s quite a while – I hope we get on OK”.  As we journied North for quite a few hours we were relieved to find a shaded river for lunch.   When we stopped, everyone headed for the river discarding clothing as they raced for the cool refreshing water.  After some mad splashing and playful water fights everyone became quiet.  All you could see was twenty or so contented heads above the water line.  I decided that I’d rather find a quiet few moments upstream and just dangle my feet in the water. This was great for while until I peered into the water to be met with a pair of beady eyes looking up at me.  “Oh, no – is that a snake, what will I do?” I desperately thought.  “There’s only one thing to do, just ever so slowly draw my feet out of the water.”  For what seemed like ages, I inched my feet out of halms way and I noticed the eyes retreating under a rock ledge.  After I thankfully rose to my feet I walked on down to where the bus passengers were still enjoying a break from the relentless heart.  “I think I just found a snake in the water” I calmly told them.  Well, you would have thought I thrown a hand grenade because the reaction was immediate.  Everyone made a chaotic scramble for the bank and away from the danger zone and from then on I was known as snake man.

My reputation was further enhanced a few mornings later when we were sitting in a large circle eating breakfast.  One of the members of the party came over to the rubbish bin located next to me and just froze in his tracks.  I could see by the horrified look on his face that there was something awful on the ground.  He was right – it was a death adder not far from my bare feet.  “Don’t move” he whispered.  Being conservationists as everyone was, one chap came forward calmly and coaxed the snake into the large rubbish  bin and carried it away to be released into the bush.  “What a trip this was turning out to be”, I sighed.  By time we reached Iron Range we could sense its isolation and extraordinary beauty.  The group had ticked off a host of new species including Riflebirds, Golden bower birds and Eclectus Parrots and all too soon  we pitched our tents and turned in for the night.  As usual we were all dog tired and when I felt something large and cold on my face around midnight I just didn’t have the energy to turn my torch on to discover what is was.  I assumed it was a frog so I reached for the invader of my privacy took a handful and tossed it to the far side of the tent.  It was only in the morning that I discovered a giant black spider half the size of a fist sitting up regally in the corner of my tent.  It really took my breath away.  “Hell, did I pick that up last night – that was a very close encounter with nature which I could have done without?”  Soon everyone was over to see my visitor and from then on I was known as ‘spider man.’

They say that when you walk in a line through the bush a snake will usually bite the second person.  I guess the first person disturbs it and then it is ready to attack the next victim.  This became indelibly imprinted on my mind on one occasion when we took the Aboriginal boarding students camping to Mt Barnett Station about 300 kilometres East of Derby.  We were traipsing along happily through rock ledges above the river when one of the students calming said “Snake, Sir.”  Aboriginal kids have such remarkable eyesight but I had little time to reflect on his quiet respectfulness as I glanced at my feet.  With my next step I was going to tread on a king brown.  You know those cartoons when you see characters do amazing things, well I did that day.  I leapt into the air, did a cartwheel and landed still upright about a metre ahead of the leader.  As you can imagine, this brought a chorus of laugher and teasing which followed me for the rest of the day.