What is that...

Leaping out of the truck, a sense of urgency spurring me on, I feel the heat of the midday sun on my back.

 

Quick. I must be quick.

 

I’m about to trot down the stairs leading to the back porch when I hear it. A soft, but distinct parting of the grass. My blood shrivels in my veins as I instantly back-step several paces with an accompanying ‘Oh-hh’.

 

I instinctively comprehend the tenuous position I abruptly find myself in.

 

I freeze and search the waist-high, thick grass, desperately hoping that Dad will notice my sudden lack of movement. I’m devastated when I remember him saying he was heading up to the shed, and it becomes obvious that he will be several minutes. I need him here now. As in, right now!

 

My eyes frantically pan left and right, searching for what I suspect…no, what I know is there. My eyes dart over some metres away, where a drake hisses, unruffled by the sudden turn of events. I keep thinking to myself that if danger truly lurked, the drake would be far less placid. Then I think: ducks just aren’t that smart.

 

I’m hesitant to look away, fearing the momentary lack of focus would cause me to miss something, however I have a pressing need to see if Dad is finally making his way back to me.

 

There!

 

I see his white hair through the side windows of the truck. He is not far from me now. I anxiously call out to him, but he is still to far away. I swing my eyes back to the clump of grass, grateful it is a ‘stand alone’ clump that is surrounded by relatively short grass. Again, I look behind me as see that Dad is leisurely making his way past the bonnet of the truck. ‘Dad!’ I murmur urgently, knowing full well he can’t hear me. Dang his reluctance to wear his hearing aids, I think. ‘Dad!’ I say again, more forcefully. This catches his attention, and I can see in his gaze that he is curious as to why I haven’t started on the many chores associated with this stop. ‘Get your gun’ I say, slowly and clearly. Before I’ve finished speaking, he says ‘What’s that?’ Me, mentally: *facepalm* before I repeat myself again.

 

Realising the desperate urgency of my situation, he spins back around to the truck, and fetches his pistol. As he races back to me, he whispers ‘What’s going on?’ I quickly relay what happened, and I am grateful he wasn’t the first to approach the steps – he would never have heard such a subtle noise. We stand there for a few more moments, each formulating a plan of attack. I felt that my plan was brought to fruition: Get Dad. Simple. Tick.

 

Our eyes scan the immediate vicinity again, hoping for more clues. There are none.

 

I begin to doubt myself. Did I really hear it? There are many large grasshoppers around, leaping high in the heat of the sun. Could it have been one of those that I had heard? Was I mistaken?

 

He indicates that I should continue with my chores, and that I should look for a metal rake, while he glares at the innocent tuft of grass.

 

I check the dog’s water. Tick.

 

I check the dog’s food. Tick.

 

I wander inside in the hopes of finding food storage for the dogs, as their supply outside is getting low.

 

Yay!

 

I locate a heavy duty broom. I rush outside, bearing my gift for him. He appreciatively takes it from me and proceeds to clobber the thicket – gingerly but firmly, while his eyes continue to scan for the possible imminent threat.

 

I return to the confines of the house, content in my new-found knowledge that it was a false alarm. I take use of the spare moments of his distraction to check the contents of the fridge. I’m hungry, and it is past lunchtime.

 

I sigh, because it is empty.

 

I startle!

 

I hear multiple gunshots emanating from outside the house! I rush to the sliding glass door, the burning need to see what is going on causing me to nearly make a fatal mistake. I take a breath. The shots are still firing! I pace on the inside of the glass door, trying to make my eyes see around the corner. An impossibility, but I strive all the same. When the shots cease, I cautiously slid the door open a fraction. I call out ‘You okay?’ I hear descriptive swear words and I hear the adrenaline rush in his voice, but I am assured that he is un-harmed.

 

I tentatively step outside and ask if his magazine is empty. When I hear confirmation, I stride around the corner of the house. He has shot off 15 rounds. The hose that once threaded its way across the concrete veranda is shooting water several feet in the air, in numerous directions, and there are multiple gouges in the concrete. I find him using the industrial strength broom to beat at a second bush of grass, 30 feet away from the initial one. The brush end of the broom flies off, and sails over his head, behind him. Later, when I pick up the handle of this broom, I find that it now sports a noticeable bend in the middle from his efforts.

 

Although he feels confident that his attack has been successful, he directs me to the truck, in search of a lighter and a spare magazine. Scrambling back to his side, I scoop up a stray piece of cardboard, in the hopes that this will aid his efforts to set fire to the unruly clump of grass. I’m struck by my appreciation for the long dry spell we’ve recently experienced. It will greatly assist us in our attempt to complete our new goal.

 

He quickly re-loads and looks dubious as to my choice of fire-starter. My resourcefulness is confirmed though, when the scrap of cardboard proves to serve its purpose.

 

Armed with another broom and a plastic rake, I am watchful and apprehensive as we wait for the thicket to burn. I am unconvinced that this is the best position for me, as I shuffle my ‘weapons’ from hand to hand, glancing over my shoulder for the easiest route of escape, should the need arise. At my feet, the hose continues its spray unheeded, as our attention is diverted elsewhere for the time being.

 

The moments stretch to minutes, each one an eternity within itself. I am restless, yet determined to be brave.

 

I startle at a movement at the edge of the concrete, a bare foot away from the long grass. In my panic, I alert Dad to the possibility that this is what we seek. A sigh escapes me. It was simply a grasshopper fleeing the flames. In my defence, it was an extremely large grasshopper, and I am thankful that I am not mocked for my blunder.

 

Over time, the flames grow large. With so much dry fodder for it to consume, we act in haste to extinguish it before the fire reaches the chook pen. The gate is closed, and many would perish before we would be able to guide them to safety. The hose lacks its usual strength, owing to the large holes perforating its sides, but we persist and eventually we triumph.

 

Throwing away his now useless broom handle, he takes my plastic rake, and combs over the ashes. We question our actions, thinking we were to slow/it was too fast. Did Dad actually not harm it with the pistol shots? Were we not watching the short surrounding grass closely enough?

 

There!

 

In the centre of the ring of scorched ground lies the remains of a huge 4 foot long Red Bellied Black snake. It is fat. It has fed well leading up to our encounter.

 

We emerge from the smoke victorious and are humbled by our gratitude that we were not harmed.

 

BANG!

 

Another shot echoes throughout the hills. I look in disbelieve at Dad, thinking the snake’s mate had appeared. He is chagrined – in attempting to make his firearm ‘safe’, his thumb had slipped. We both breathe a sigh of relief, and agree to omit this part of our day, when we tell Mum about it later.

 

Snakes of that size always travel in pairs and the second snake is almost always found within days of the first.

 

We have yet to discover the second snake. We will be wary as we continue our chores in the coming days. We will be diligent, as a bite from one of this large bulk will almost certainly result in death before medical attention can be attained. If the need arises, we will burn more of the paddock in our attempt to protect our families.

 

 

We will persist. We will endure. We will conquer.