Farmers and snakes and leeches, oh my.
So last night, Helen is in the nice warm unit, fooling about on the puter designing bumper stickers. Has Helen mentioned before the leeches in victoria? For those unaware, they are like those in Tasmania and NT. None of this nice WA-style staying in the water for them. No, they perch themselves on grasses and bracken, and wave about smelling for blood.
You walk past and the little bastards attach themselves (to plastic, pants, whatever) and proceed to climb up your clothes like a deranged caterpillar until they find something you have not properly tucked in. Then you feel a painful slimy on your stomach. Or your arse. If you're lucky. They don't like ti-tree oil sprayed on them, fyi, if you want to get them off without flamage.
So Helen is on the puter. We have been inside for a good 6-7 hours. Suddenly, she looks down and there is a leech on the keyboard. Gf had been asleep, poor thing, when Helen started with the expletives and light-turning-on and getting an appropriate stick to piff the thing outside. Ugh. It crawled across the keyboard and was halfway up the screen, swinging around and scoping for blood, before I got it. And then of course we were paranoid all night and Helen had more snake dreams. Speaking of which . .
***
The snakes.
Honestly, the second the sun comes out it's like some sort of horror movie called 'swarming snake pit that no 4wd let alone any sort of emergency services will ever be able reach before you die a painful death'. Legs are nice and fungus-y, from the gumboots, socks, regular pants, waterproof pants and snake-proof gaiter ensemble that Helen has been sporting for the last little while.
One of the run-ins was particularly scary. Ambling the 4wd drive down a steep stony hill, bracken up to the windowsill, windows open to get rid of the flies. Helen hears some rustling, thinks, oh, that's unusual, I didn't think we were moving that much. Helen turns her head to see A MASSIVE, PANICKING, TIGER SNAKE inches from her face. Too late to roll up the window, she issues some sort of whimper and clasps her chest. Gf looks confused. Then later asks why the F*ck Helen didn't roll up the window. At which Helen whimpers again. And suggests going home for the day.
Had he flicked back, he would have come straight through the window. Can't even imagine how one would begin to bandage a neck for snakebite.
***
Farmer
The highlight of the whole affair was the 'friendly' farmer, I reckon, who jumped the fence to tell us about the bloody abos and how he'd just like to 'set us straight' about how what we're recording has been made by rabbit-chasers throwing rocks around in the 60s. And helpfully point out that the 'abos' didn't build the dry-stone stockyards or the national heritage listed sheepwash 'are you recording that? cause it wasn't them'. Thankyou, kind sir. I am most humbled.
***
Tomorrow is Melbourne Cup. Helen plans to breakfast at a cafe, pack her car for fieldwork, and venture towards Crown to watch the stumbling high-heels in the late afternoon.
You walk past and the little bastards attach themselves (to plastic, pants, whatever) and proceed to climb up your clothes like a deranged caterpillar until they find something you have not properly tucked in. Then you feel a painful slimy on your stomach. Or your arse. If you're lucky. They don't like ti-tree oil sprayed on them, fyi, if you want to get them off without flamage.
So Helen is on the puter. We have been inside for a good 6-7 hours. Suddenly, she looks down and there is a leech on the keyboard. Gf had been asleep, poor thing, when Helen started with the expletives and light-turning-on and getting an appropriate stick to piff the thing outside. Ugh. It crawled across the keyboard and was halfway up the screen, swinging around and scoping for blood, before I got it. And then of course we were paranoid all night and Helen had more snake dreams. Speaking of which . .
***
The snakes.
Honestly, the second the sun comes out it's like some sort of horror movie called 'swarming snake pit that no 4wd let alone any sort of emergency services will ever be able reach before you die a painful death'. Legs are nice and fungus-y, from the gumboots, socks, regular pants, waterproof pants and snake-proof gaiter ensemble that Helen has been sporting for the last little while.
One of the run-ins was particularly scary. Ambling the 4wd drive down a steep stony hill, bracken up to the windowsill, windows open to get rid of the flies. Helen hears some rustling, thinks, oh, that's unusual, I didn't think we were moving that much. Helen turns her head to see A MASSIVE, PANICKING, TIGER SNAKE inches from her face. Too late to roll up the window, she issues some sort of whimper and clasps her chest. Gf looks confused. Then later asks why the F*ck Helen didn't roll up the window. At which Helen whimpers again. And suggests going home for the day.
Had he flicked back, he would have come straight through the window. Can't even imagine how one would begin to bandage a neck for snakebite.
***
Farmer
The highlight of the whole affair was the 'friendly' farmer, I reckon, who jumped the fence to tell us about the bloody abos and how he'd just like to 'set us straight' about how what we're recording has been made by rabbit-chasers throwing rocks around in the 60s. And helpfully point out that the 'abos' didn't build the dry-stone stockyards or the national heritage listed sheepwash 'are you recording that? cause it wasn't them'. Thankyou, kind sir. I am most humbled.
***
Tomorrow is Melbourne Cup. Helen plans to breakfast at a cafe, pack her car for fieldwork, and venture towards Crown to watch the stumbling high-heels in the late afternoon.