Open Writing

Anyone for rats? Some people recoil in horror over rats, others over snakes, and some (like yours truly) over big spiders. Just before we leave the snakes, I might tell you that I once held a circus snake. It was not poisonous, so I was not scared; and it was not slimy. Reptiles are very dry. I might also tell you that all Tasmanian snakes are very poisonous; but the theory is that if you leave them alone, they will just slither on their own merry way. Tell that to your dogs!

A few years back we did have a visiting snake. We saw it on the verandah; among the pot plants; down at the clothesline; and once, while I was sitting— where even kings go by themselves. My daughter once gave a scream from the lounge-room—and I knew immediately what it was. 'Inside or outside?' I yelled back. More screams. I hurried into the lounge room, where the big sliding door was open, but luckily the fly screen was not. Outside was 'snaky', sitting with 10–15 cm of its body vertical, looking at my daughter.

What later happened to it I cannot tell you, as in Australia the snakes are protected. Let us just say, it never returned.

Some time after, I had a visit from three generations of women who had lived in central Tasmania where there are many more snakes visible than at our place. Said the grandmother 'I used to kill them with a shovel.' (She had 6 children). Daughter: 'I am wary of them, but prefer to let them go.' (My attitude too, and recommended by the experts). Finally, the adult granddaughter said, 'They are such graceful creatures, that if I see one, I follow them to watch them.' (Not recommended by the experts).

Would you believe this? In an animal park, I once saw a snake yawning! I was fascinated. It nearly transferred to me: a real yawn, just like you and me.

Rats. Some years ago I was worried because our vegetation grows so fast that it is a fire danger. I did my best to diminish it, but also, at that time, I had to stop the birds making nests in the roof. I put some sealing up, but before I could do that, I had to check for nests (old ones, after the babies had flown). Yes, there were some: we had heard their chirping too. But over on the north side, there was a large 'haystack'.

What sort of bird could that be?

Then there was a plastic bag from the supermarket with the date still on it which had been for meat. The nest was from different material, too: grass and shredded bark. It had to be a rat's nest! How clever of the animal! It could steal birds' eggs too. (I don't know if rats do that—we do). Now I check for rats' nests every spring, and the birds and the possums stick to the trees.

Here is another little rat story.

Our shed has been moved, and now has a concrete floor, so that it is fairly safe from animal intruders; but where it was before there was easy access for smaller animals. And one day, when I went to look for something else, I looked down into a big empty oil drum—and there, at the bottom, in a neat, round, snug nest, was a bunch of very small, pink, baby rats. They were so cute; and I just tiptoed out. Bush rats are OK as long as they do not come inside our house.

Last rodent story: One night, at 3.00am, there was a scraping and rattling in the roof. Possums? There is no room for them to get in. Nevertheless, I went outside and opened some access holes, thinking—if it is a possum, it can get back out.

Soon the noise stopped—but next morning it came back, even louder.

I steeled myself, put a balaclava on, overalls and gloves, got up the ladder, and fearfully opened our indoor manhole cover and stuck my head in the roof.

Did I see a giant rat? No, a tiny mouse, caught in a rat-trap. It screamed; I managed to free it, and off it ran. I nearly cried—the poor little thing!

© Gerda Aaberg