Fear of Snakes in the Arid Region of South Australia

My fear of snakes goes right back to early childhood.

This sleepy became my security from snakes for the two days that I camped at the old stockmen’s hut.

We had a black dog named Doggin, or was it Doggen or maybe Doggan.

Anyway, Doggin caught a snake. Mum killed the snake but not in time to save Doggin who died from snake bite.

I vividly remember the regular snake scares. Most every summer there would be a snake sighting on our two acre block. Sometimes the snake would be killed, but on other occasions it would get away. I grew up with a fear of long grass, scrub, rocky country, rabbit burrows and sheets of iron and old timber laying on the ground.

I well remember the first time I killed a snake.

The old stockmens hut at Beda with the pile of old corrugated iron sheets, home to my friend, Sleepy.

Dad had primed me up for the occasion as part of the knowledge that a good father passes down through the generations. First you immobilize it by breaking it’s back. That’s the biggest target. Then you go for the head to kill it.

I was 18 years old. As I came down the back steps of the house, there it was on the concrete path, quite near me: a three foot six tiger snake.

I sprang into action according to my training, grabbing the mop by the head end. I bent low so as to get a good hit with the mop handle. A couple of good blows and I had the snake writhing on the spot and then went in for the kill.

Sleepy was quite happy to pose for me. A profile shot.

Dad heard the commotion of the relentless blows of the mop on the concrete and came out, quickly sizing up the situation. “You’ve got it, you’ve got it,” he called, but there was no stopping me. I kept up the killing action till the mop handle was split from one end to the other. Ooh, the adrenalin rush!

I had crossed the threshold. I was now a snake killer, albeit a terrified snake killer.

I often refer to snakes by the euphemism, joe blake. That’s one of the hidden psychological protectors that we use where the very mention of a word strikes fear into us. We know what the euphemistic term means, but we haven’t actually said the fearsome word.

In the arid region there are several highly venomous snakes, some of which are regarded as aggressive. I carry a snake bite bandage in my pocket, all the time, while out there.

Looking rather like a two headed monster, my friend, Sleepy, lay on an old truck tube, beside the sheets of iron that made up his home.

The king brown is among the worlds most venomous snakes, moves like lightening and will chase you, rather than slither away, when cornered.

So when I camped in the old stockmen’s hut at Beda on South Gap Station in South Australia’s Northern Pastoral District, I wasn’t too keen on the piled up sheets of iron at one end of the hut. Nor was I all that confident about the undermined concrete of the veranda.

But I had a friend who lived under the sheets of iron and gave me great comfort; a sleepy. Rather like a two headed monster, a sleepy has a tail that looks just like a head, so he appears to be watching his enemies at any time.

Well, he needs to have something going for him to survive. The sleepy is known for just laying about and not moving for anything. My friendly sleepy turned up in various spots during the two days that I spent at the old stockmen’s hut. Oh yes, we had a few one way conversations and he posed for my camera.

But the best thing about my friend is that while he was about, I reckoned there would be no snakes. If there were, they’d have eaten him or he’d have eaten them. One way or the other, doesn’t matter to me.

See also Rita’s outback snake advice and information.