Humor: Scales of injustice at the beach

Scales of injustice at the beach

Before I tell you about my holiday at the seaside, I want you to know two things that I think are relevant.

The red-bellied black snake, which lives in south-eastern Australia, is one of the most poisonous snakes in the world.
I am dead scared of snakes. The deadlier the snake, the more dead scared I am.

Our holiday began when my wife Katherine, our son Jack, 4, and I set off from our home in Canberra to spend three days of promised tranquillity at a place called Guerilla Bay on the south coast of New South Wales.
I do not know why Guerilla Bay is thus named. I was reassured that no men in jungle fatigues ran around there with machine guns; nor was it home to gorillas who could not spell very well.

We had rented a seaside cottage, right next to the beach, for three nights.
There would be no phone, no e-mail, no noise and no stress for three whole days.
We all needed the break.
Jack was about to start at a new school.
Katherine was about to step up her study program.
I had been burning the midnight oil a bit too much and was starting to babble.

We had to make a short detour in Canberra to pick up the key from the cottage owner.
It was a sparkling, warm summer's morning and Jack and I stayed in the car while Katherine popped in.
She returned five minutes later with the key and a two rough maps the owner had sketched for us. Katherine, who was driving, handed them to me.

One map was a street map to help us find the cottage.
The other was a map of the property which would help us to pin-point the finer features of the exterior of the place.
It showed things like the meter box, the rubbish bin, the gate and the compost heap.
Oh, and there was a little arrow and some writing which said: "Black snake (red-bellied) about one-and-a-half metres, suns itself here."

"WHAT IS THIS?" I spluttered to my wife, pointing to the arrow.

"Oh, the cottage has a snake," Katherine said matter-of-factly as she drove. "It's very shy though."

"Shy!" I said. "I'm not spending three nights in a house with a manic depressive snake."

"It won't be INSIDE," Katherine said. "It's only been there about a week, near the compost heap. The owner has been observing it while she was staying at the cottage herself. Every time someone goes outside, the snake slithers into the bushes. I told you: it's very shy."

"Oh, and after seeing it for the grand total of 39 seconds in the space of a week, the owner has concluded the snake is shy, eh?" I said. "What snake psychology qualifications does she have?"

"Don't be silly, John," Katherine said.

"I don't believe this!" I ranted further. "They never tell you this in the real estate advertisements, do they? It's always 'Tidy two-bedroom cottage for rent. Good outlook, close to beach. Ensuite, laundry, deck, gas barbecue. Suit quiet family who play ludo a lot.' It's never 'Tidy two-bedroom cottage for rent. Good outlook, close to beach. Ensuite, laundry, deck, gas barbecue and black snake. Suit quiet family who don't mind co-existing with dangerous reptiles.'"

There was a long pause. Nothing more was said in the car for the next 32 miles.

Finally, Katherine said: "There are some pythons there too. But we don't have to worry about them. They just eat the rats."

"Rats?" I said, cringing again. "I hate rats nearly as much as I hate snakes. You didn't tell me there were rats there, too?"

"They're just bush rats," Katherine said. "Keep your hat on. The whole area is a bush reserve. There are lots of animals. They won't worry us though. We'll just use the front door and won't even go into the backyard."

I looked at the map again.

The meter box was in the backyard.
Someone would have to go and switch the power and hot water on.

"I don't feel well?" I mumbled. "Can't we turn around? Do we have to go on this holiday?"
"Yes," said Katherine.
"Yes," said Jack.

So we went.

And now, four days later, I am back in the relative civilisation of Canberra.

I have to confess, I did not actually see any snakes while I was at Guerilla Bay.
But it is very hard to sleep at night with the thought that a red-bellied black snake might slither from under your pillow at any moment.
It is also most disconcerting using the toilet with the fear, no matter how irrational it is, that a snake, a strong swimmer like a red-bellied black, might pop out of the dunny and bite you on the bum.

One of the first things I did when I arrived home was to find out more about the red-bellied black snake, which I have now come to know by its scientific name Pseudechis porphyriacus.
"The red-bellied black is one of the most toxic snakes in the world," one web site told me.
"It can be quite aggressive.
"This is a very dangerous snake that should not be mucked about with.
"It is quite large for a venomous snake and bites are supposed to be very painful."

I know there are many people who actually like snakes.
Some people even keep them as pets.
Snakes here are a protected species which is fine with me.
I have a personal philosophy:
If the snake does not come near me, I won't go near it, not even if it means living without hot water and electricity for three nights.

But I do suspect that Guerilla Bay lacks something.

Er, yes, what it needs is more men in jungle fatigues running around making a lot of noise with machine guns.

Okay, it would not be nearly so tranquil.

But the noise might keep the snake population at bay.

NB: I called this site Dunno because I kept drawing a blank when I had to put a name to it