Snakes
My apologies to all who were able to see the announcement on last 'Monday'. Technical difficulties and other doubts made me decide not to start it. Further thought will be given to the idea, however.
Friends probably have the impression that my life has been filled with snakes. I have met two. I suppose there's food for thought there, somewhere.
Working once with the Australian photographer John Garrett on the very small island of La Digue in the Seychelles, I nearly stepped on a very small variety of the species.
It was early morning and we had just got up. John was ready before me and was waiting in the breakfast bar at the foot of the hill.
I was tripping lightly down the rough, narrow path feeling hungry when I spotted it. My right foot was descending and, on one leg, I froze. Its twinkling eyes gazed at me from the shadow of my erstwhile-descending foot. Somehow, I retained my balance and very, very slowly lowered my foot and touched earth as far behind the other foot as I could.
We looked at each other. The thing was utterly motionless. It's astonishing just how long snakes can remain still.
Remembering the other experience in Rangoon I knew that it’s the small ones that are often fastest and deadliest. I finally decided that it was not going to move and that if it didn’t do so before old age set in I would have to move first. I moved away backwards at little more than the speed of the average tectonic plate, watching the snake as I have seldom watched anything before. When I had backed away by some six feet I felt I was safe. I inched smoothly and daintily into the steeply downward-sloping grassy bank on my right and skirted the snake in a wide arc.
I ran down to the bar. I told the Reception boy where it was. He leaped up, gave a shout and he and three men shot out of the door, waving forked sticks.
I joined John at our table. At the noise, he said, ‘What’s all that about?’ I told him, with suitable heroics, about my phlegmatic style, the steady nerve. After breakfast we left, passing the three snake-killers who had returned and were now reading their newspapers. The boy said something and gave us a little bow. The others looked at us over their newspapers, grinning. I asked the boy if they had caught the snake.
His face cracked open into an enormous smile of big white teeth.
‘Ah, snake! Yes, sir.’
‘You got it? Killed it?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Why not?’
‘No snake, sir.'
'What?'
'No snake, sir. Just skin, sir. Have a nice day, sir.’
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Text and illustration ©Paul Wigmore 2010