The other day, while walking our dogs through the bush close to home, I met a neighbour who warned me to watch out for snakes. He’d almost stepped on one and had sighted others that had slithered away.
Years ago, one of my kids yelled, ‘Mum, there’s a snake outside!’ I dashed to the window and saw a snake coiled up on the path between our garage and the back door. What were we to do? Until the snake disappeared, I couldn’t let my kids leave the house.
I called the animal rescue organisation, hoping someone would come and remove the snake. I described it and was told it was a venomous copperhead. We speculated where it had come from, and after I’d mentioned a hole in our garage’s foundations, the rescue person told me there was probably a whole family of snakes living under the concrete. “There’s not much point coming out to remove your snake when I can’t get under your garage to reach the others.” We’d have to continue sharing our home with venomous snakes.
My kids named our snake El Cid and eventually, it slithered away, and we could use our path again. Over the next few months, we saw it a few more times. Once, it reared up in front of my son, who was mowing the grass. Both snake and boy looked very surprised. Duncan backed off, and the rescue man’s parting words proved to be true: “If you don’t interfere with a snake, it’ll leave you alone. It won’t be a problem.”
At that time, Andy and I and our kids lived in a cottage on the edge of town. It was old, shabby and small. Not perfect at all. We might have wished for more space, a beautifully landscaped garden with no weeds in sight, freshly painted walls that didn’t attract the mould, thick pile carpets, a modern kitchen.
But we didn’t need any of that. We had something better.
Over our saggy wire fence was a paddock of cows. We could look out of our living room window and watch them moving slowly towards us as they chewed the grass. Sometimes these cows were tempted by our garden grass, which they thought was better than theirs. They’d push through the wire fence, and we’d discover them munching our lawn. They took a liking to our flowers as well.
”There are cows on the wrong side of the fence!” someone would yell. Then my boys would race outside, open the paddock gate, and try to chase the cows through it. The cows always chose to return the way they’d come. They’d crash through the fence, shaking the wire from their hooves before ambling across the paddock, their saggy stomachs swaying beneath them.
But cows weren’t the only attraction of our cottage. We also had threadbare low-friction carpets. “They’re perfect for racing my Matchbox toy cars,” my young son, Callum, announced with a grin. “You should see how fast they move.”
Maybe, best of all, was The Wild, where pine and crab apple trees grew, and my kids made bows and arrows, hitched up their pretend prairie wagon, and had fabulous adventures doing what kids ought to do.
And, of course, we also had our very own snake.
People who had newer designer houses might not have envied our home. They probably didn’t want to be us living with threadbare carpet and a family of snakes. But we loved our shabby cottage next to the cows. For six years, it was our happy place.
So what kind of home do kids need?
They don’t need to live in attractive big houses, do they?
All children need is a place where they’re free to grow, learn and have adventures.
Somewhere they know they’re more important than the walls and the carpet.
A home where they feel accepted, safe and loved unconditionally.
Kids need somewhere to belong.
(A snake would add spice to a child’s life, but it’s not essential.)
Something Extra
Over the years, I’ve written quite a few snake stories. Maybe you’d like to read Letting Go of Control. It begins with these words:
On Saturday evening, Jessie, Quinn’s sister, died. My son Callum’s Shar Pei/Great Dane puppy was bitten by a 2-metre-long brown snake.
Her death wasn’t in The Plan. She should have lived for years. Instead, the Jessie stories have suddenly come to an end. They’ll be no more comparisons: “Is Jessie much bigger than Quinn? Send us a photo!” No more I’ll protect you! barks from a warrior puppy. No more soggy doggy kisses.
I’ve also written more stories about the cows that used to come crashing through our garden fence. In my children’s book, The Angels of Gum Tree Road, there’s one called Visiting Granny. One evening, Granny takes Edward and Joe to the cinema, and afterwards, they return to her back-to-front house, which looks remarkably like the shabby cottage we lived in many years ago. Here’s part of the story:
… It’s very late by the time Granny steers the car up her long driveway to her house. All of a sudden, she catches a glimpse of a large dark shape looming up ahead. She slows the car down to a crawl. She parks very carefully, wondering what is standing under the tree next to her house. Then Granny sees four eyes.
“Those cows are back,” says Granny. “They must have crashed through the fence again.” She sighs. She’s tired. She doesn’t want to chase cows in the dark.
“Let’s pretend we didn’t see the cows,” says Granny. “We can deal with them in the morning.”
Edward and Joe don’t argue. They’re tired too. All they want to do is crawl between the sheets of their beds in Granny’s spare room.
So everyone sneaks past the cows, and Granny unlocks the front-back door. A few minutes later, Granny, Edward and Joe are ready for bed. They’re soon fast asleep. Edward and Joe are dreaming about cars. Granny is dreaming about Dad and his hollow legs.
In the middle of the night, Edward and Joe suddenly wake up. They lie still, wondering what interrupted their dreams. Was it a noise? It was. A moment later, they hear it again. Is someone sneaking up to Granny’s door?
“Is it a burglar?” whispers Joe.
“It can’t be a burglar,” Edward whispers back. “A burglar would be quieter.” Both boys lie in bed, their ears straining for more noise.
“It sounds like someone’s walking on the gravel,” says Joe. “Should we look out the window and see?”
But before Edward can answer, there’s a huge thumping noise. The walls of the bedroom shake. It sounds like something big has banged into the side of the house. The boys freeze in their beds. They’re starting to get frightened. Is something going to come crashing through the wall? There’s another thump. And then the boys hear the walking-on-gravel sound again.
“I think I know what it is,” says Edward suddenly. He no longer feels frightened. He has got out of bed. He’s peering through the window. He can’t see much because it’s very dark. He strains his eyes, and then he finds what he’s looking for: eyes.
“It’s the cows,” says Edward. “A cow just bumped into the side of the house.”
“Why would a cow crash into the wall?” asks Joe.
“It might be a very short-sighted cow,” says Edward. “Maybe it can’t see where it’s going.” Then he adds, “Perhaps we should go outside and chase the cows back over the fence.”
Joe thinks about how cold and dark it must be outside. He doesn’t want to get out from underneath the warm blankets. He just wants to snuggle down in bed and go back to sleep. “It’s too dark,” he says.
“Yes, we’ll have to wait until tomorrow,” agrees Edward.
The boys slip back under the blankets. Just as they are about to close their eyes, they hear another thud. A cow has crashed into the wall again. Edward and Joe sigh.
All night long, the cows walk around the garden in circles. They bump into the house. They crunch their way over the gravel. They walk quietly on the grass. Then they return and do it all over again.
All night long, the boys drift off to sleep, only to be woken up again when the cows crash into the house. By the time morning arrives, Edward and Joe are very tired. They wish the cows would disappear. They wish they could go back to sleep. But they can’t. It’s Sunday morning, and they have to get up for Mass.
“Time to get up!” says Granny.
“But we’re so tired,” yawns Joe. “We didn’t get a wink of sleep all night long.”
“Not a wink of sleep?” asks Granny.
“It was the cows,” explains Edward.
“The cows?”
“Didn’t you hear them?” asks Joe.
Granny shakes her head. “I was fast asleep. I didn’t hear anything.”
Did all that loud music at the cinema make Granny deaf? Or did the cows only crash into the boys’ side of the house?
“We’ll chase the cows back over the fence later,” says Granny. “At the moment, it’s more important we get to Mass.”
Edward and Joe nearly fall asleep while they’re eating their breakfast. They automatically spoon their cereal into their mouths, their eyes half-closed.
But their eyes open very wide when they step out the back-front door. So do Granny’s. She and the boys look around the garden. They can see the two cows lazily munching grass under the tree. They look like they’ve been standing there for hours. No one would guess they’d spent all night walking around, crashing into the house. No one would believe it unless they looked at the evidence.
“Wow!” says Joe. “Look at all that cow dung.” There are piles of it everywhere.
“And look at your flowers, Granny!” cries Edward. There aren’t many flowers left to look at. “The cows have eaten them all”…
Like most of my children’s stories, I based this story on an actual event. I added a touch of imagination to something that happened in our life.
Why not check out my Angel family books? They’re available on Amazon.
Photos
Sometimes we see snakes in the bush. And sometimes we see horses. Our dog Quinn was very surprised when we emerged onto the main fire trail from a smaller side track and saw a horse (with a rider) for the first time!
