If the neighbourhood dogs aren’t yapping their doggy heads off (I wish!), there is usually a motor of some sort revving its heart out ( again, I wish!)
The joys of suburbia. Somehow, noise didn’t seem so bloody invasive out in the sticks…
Great drama here yesterday…Geiger and Sporran , mainly Geiger, I think, had a snake. They’d brought it indoors and I only knew when I went out to the kitchen with my empty coffee mug!
I put it in a jar and paged through my snake books. I think it was a brown tree snake…except that they are nocturnal and have smaller eyes. So it might have been a yellow faced whip snake (my best guess)…except that it didn’t have the typical “comma” at the corner of the eye. It might have been a black whip snake…except that it wasn’t black. It might have been a young Eastern Brown…except that it looked too long and slender.
What I can tell you is that it was damn’ hard to photograph inside a glass jar!
For those of you who may not know – identification is by a sub-caudal scale count. This is all very well if it’s a cute lil grass snake, or one of the least harmful ones. But I am not going to count the number of scales on the arse-end of any snake. Are we clear on this? Good!
And why was this such a drama? Because I was “home alone” as The Man had gone a-Mustanging. If I’d been bitten there was no one to apply a pressure bandage, ring the ambulance and hold my head over a bucket.
What happened to this snake? It was released, later in the afternoon, down at the end of the street, in some weedy scrub by a drain.
On to less scary topics…let’s see…nope! I got nuttin.’
I do have a glass of sparkling Chardonnay from South Australia. Some fetta and tomatoes, with snipped fresh herbs. Shall I get another glass out…?