I’m riding my bike along a fire trail in the bush. Suddenly, there’s a brown snake on the trail, close ahead. Very close. Large, about one and a half metres, (five feet) with plenty of girth. I’m nearly on it. It holds its ground, lifts its head and upper body, at least 30cms (one foot) off the ground, probably more, seeming to sway slightly, side to side.
It’s early afternoon on a warm, sunny spring day. I’m in the coastal scrub at the back of Vincentia and Hyams Beach, not far from where I live on the NSW south coast. I ride here often, with a favoured regular route through some fairly open areas, others densely overgrown with heath, some woodland. Takes me an hour and I enjoy the exercise, the serenity, the scenery and the time to think. Has a couple of quite steep hills, which are the price you pay for those occasions when you get to rip downhill.
*
The Australian Museum describes the eastern brown snake as “an alert, nervous species that often reacts defensively if surprised or cornered, putting on a fierce display and striking with little hesitation.” In response to a mild threat it raises its head and upper body sightly off and parallel to the ground. To a strong threat it raises its upper body well off the ground, in an s-shaped coil, mouth slightly open.
About six weeks earlier, not too far away from the scene of this encounter, I spotted a small brown snake on the trail ahead of me. Only about 30cms long, with little girth. Clearly an infant, and lacking a highly developed sense of its world, it lay in a sunny patch as I swerved around it. Looking over my shoulder it was still there, enjoying the warmth. Oblivious to the impact 100 kilos crossing its back would have on its future.
A few weeks after this I came across another brown snake; about a metre long, still slender. This one demonstrated some sense about the dangers around it. On my arrival into its space it went from a slow slither across the trail in front of me, to a full tilt escape into the safety and obscurity of the leaf litter. I admired it from a safe distance as I went past, having to slow to squeeze through a gate.
In many years of bike riding around these parts these are the first live snakes I have seen. I’m sure I’ve been within spitting distance of plenty, but never laid eyes on one. A couple of dead red-bellied blacks on the side of the road. And never a brown. After these two encounters, within a few weeks of each other, I wondered what would be next. Now, on Thursday 13th November 2013, I find out.
*
Instinctively I lift both feet off the pedals and raise my legs. As high as I can. My momentum carries me past the snake and I hit the pedals, going like the clappers. After a couple of seconds I look over my shoulder. It’s there, at the back wheel, clearly unable to draw the line between defensive and aggressive behaviour. Pile on a few more clappers and, after another couple of seconds, I look again, to see it heading into the scrub.
The eastern brown is the most venomous of Australia’s land snakes. It’s widespread along the east coast, including densely populated areas. So it isn’t surprising it’s responsible for more snake bite deaths than any other snake in Australia. A wonder I haven’t seen more of them, really.
There’s a couple of other wonders. What would have happened, I wonder, if I’d been on a steep incline, where ceasing pedalling would have bought me to a quick stop. Right in the snake’s territory. Virtually on top of it. No legs raised high in that situation. Really, this doesn’t bear wondering about.
And the other wonder, still a wonder as I write this, was my steady beating heart. Surprisingly, it didn’t skip, jump, race or anything else I thought it would have done. Should have done. These are the things it can do watching television. Fearless doesn’t exactly describe me, so I don’t understand why this is so.
And how long did this encounter last? Impossible to know for sure, but I went back the next day, and, finding the coast clear, did a re-enactment. So I’d say just about eleven seconds.