Post-rain passers-by

As soon as the rain stopped I got stuck into digging while the clayey soil was diggable. I am finally excavating for a bathroom!
With ABC Radio playing and my eyes watching what I was doing, it was mere chance that I looked behind me.
About a metre away was the black snake, minding its own business and poking about near the earth I had just dumped. Damn! I could not continue work with it so close.
I ceded the territory and went around the house to the verandah to watch where it went. Having satisfied its curiosity, the snake continued up the slope to the gate.

It occurred to me then that the wild creatures have stuck to this same path, once a wallaby track, and sensibly diagonally across the slope, despite my erecting a fence straight through it.
For that day I had also seen the echidna following the track, now barely distinguishable to me — but clearly not so to them. Like the snake, it detoured to investigate what my digging was turning up.

14 thoughts on “Post-rain passers-by”

  1. Hi Margaret,
    Thank you so much for giving me that lovely feedback from Annette.
    And I too will be glad when tomorrow’s post goes up and Slim slithers down the dirt pile no more!

  2. Hello Sharyn

    I’ll be so glad when you write/photograph your next post. Seeing the backend of The Snake in the first photograph is quite unnerving as I check your blog each day! I can think of a more appropriate name for Slim but it’s not publishable.
    Wanted to let you know that I gave my sister the copy of The Woman on the Mountain you so kindly signed at Kempsey library. Annette rang to say how much she is enjoying reading it and how astounded and full of admiration she is at the life you have created, and continue to create, for yourself on your mountain.


  3. Well Gaye & Carol, I doubt I’ll ever know the sex of my snake, so Slim it can stay. The bathroom will take me years of pottering away at it anyway so a few interruptions aren’t crucial.

  4. Sharyn, it does make for an exciting life and your snake probably shares your live-and-let-live attitude. I too hope he/she lets you get on with the bathroom foundations. I like your inquisitive echidna. Carol

  5. Well Sharyn, you’re right – you can hardly call a sly old snake that pops up in the most inopportune places startling the daylights out of you, after a beloved animal that has passed on. No, ‘Bluey’ just won’t do!

    I reckon ‘Slim’ is just fine, especially as he’s a bit on the plump side. But, that presents another problem – what if it’s a girl? You can hardly call a girl ‘Slim’ now can you – I’m sure she’d be most offended, and you can’t go getting on the wrong side of your scary neighbours.

    You know, if it was a girl, I’d nearly be tempted to call her ‘Rosy’ 🙂

    Of course I’m just having a bit of fun with this, Sharyn. I hope your snake stays well out of your way so you can the ground work done for your bathroom.


  6. Well Fleur, when it turns up right where I want to be or go, it would doubtless be ‘Oh no, bloody Blue again!’ or something similar!
    But having since remembered my old dog, Bluey, perhaps I won’t call my sinuous friend that.
    How about ‘Slim’? usually reserved for biggish blokes, but it works on several levels here. What d’you reckon, Gaye?

  7. I’d say it’s more of a fellow resident, a yard-mate, than a visitor, Gaye.
    I guess, in the tradition of Australian rhyming slang, I ought to call it Joe (Blake) but my son-in-law Joe might not approve.
    The other tradition is that of opposites, which is why people with red hair were called ‘Bluey’. Maybe that will do for a red-bellied black snake then– Bluey it is!

  8. Hey, Sharyn, it’s about time you gave that black snake a name. I mean, you can’t keep calling it “that black snake” when it’s a regular visitor – really !!

    Keep out of trouble 🙂

    Kind regards,

  9. Most of me agrees wholeheartedly Peter, and is grateful, but the wussy part just shivers re the snake and wishes it elsewhere than next to me.

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