Cedric Snake

I like my suburb. Five minutes from the centre of Brisbane and we still have an abundance of wildlife that shares our backyard and none is more fascinating than Cedric. Cedric is a snake -a carpet python to be precise - and I have got to know him quite well.

Regular readers will know we have chooks. Cedric seems to think our chicken coup is his personal fast-food take-a-way. We used to have thirteen chooks but it didn't take long for the baker's dozen to be reduced to an even twelve. One fateful night, La La the chicken stayed away from the roost too late and the result was a contented, snake-like burp. Poor La La.

We now have a nightly ritual of inspecting our chook house for carpet pythons to ensure none is slithering around with a Chicken Tonight look on its face. We find that Cedric and Co. are often lurking around and we always take them aside and gently explain that there are more appropriate menu items available in the nearby gully than our pet chooks and would they please take their business elsewhere.

However, one night Cedric forgot his manners.

It was early one morning, when my dearly beloved Kathryn called me to the chook pen in a voice-that-will-be-obeyed.  There she pointed, with some concern, to Cedric who was lazily draped around one of the rafters of the chook pen with a suspicious Steggles-#5-sized lump in his midriff and a contended smile on his chiselled face.

Eleven chooks are much easier to manage than twelve, I thought to myself as I timidly walked away hoping, in vain, that Kathryn would forget the fact that a non-feathered addition to the chookery was still happily ensconced in the rafters. Up until that moment, I didn't know that Kathryn knew judo but, (and I still don't know how she did it) I was translocated with expert precision into the chook pen. Then she locked the door.  Apparently I was not allowed to come out until I had captured Cedric and had him secured inside a Hessian bag she had so kindly provided for the purpose.

I discovered that placing a three metre non-compliant carpet python in a small Hessian sack is like attempting to thread a needle with a piece of supercharged spaghetti on speed. It took more than an hour but I won.

I took Cedric to the bush-land at the end of our street and noted, with a touch of concern, the Arnold Schwarzenegger 'I'll be back!' look Cedric gave me on his release. I was right to be concerned.

A few weeks later, the voice-that-will-be-obeyed rang while I was in the clinic one night asking, casually, if I would be home soon. 'Why', I asked, knowing I would regret the question.

Because the kids want to know how long they will have to stay on top of the dining-room table,' she replied.

Apparently she hadn't told the kids that carpet pythons can easily climb to the top of dining-room tables. She didn't want to worry the rug rats as Cedric was heading for the kitchen anyway and not the dining room.

I raced home with the speed of an arthritic snail with ingrown toenails, eager to do my manly duty. Like a gladiator thrown to the lions, I vowed to gallantly protect my family from the slithering chisel-headed predator.

Oh how bitterly disappointed I was when I looked cautiously around the kitchen to find that Cedric appeared to have gone and how truly elated I then became when Kathryn pointed out, rather matter-of-factly too, that he was likely to be under the stove, considering there was a mottled snake-like tail-tip just visible in the dark recess of the stove alcove.  

The battle raged for the following hour - me armed with a broom and waning enthusiasm and Cedric blessed with a surprisingly agile body, well adapted for pushing pot, pans and many items of irreplaceable crockery to the kitchen floor as he showed his serpentine superiority. He eventually departed via a kitchen window and took my pride with him.

Which takes me to a morning last week when, through our front window, I saw Cedric sliding precariously along the main power line spanning from our house to the power pole on the street. He was making an untidy job of snaking along the power line, taking a full fifteen minutes to reach half way across. To our surprise, a brave noisy myna bird flew to the power line just out of his reach and started yelling bird-like obscenities at Cedric. This brave bird was soon joined by a dozen more and I am sure they deliberately bounced on the power line in an attempt to dislodge the serpent. I have never seen a snake blush before but Cedric did. Embarrassed, ego-deflated and defeated, he performed a precarious U-turn and snaked back towards the house with his tail between his non-existent legs.

However, Kathryn had other ideas. Handing me a broom she directed that I should do all I could to dissuade Cedric from re-entering our roof cavity. It was wet weather and I was not too confident about the concept of poking a live power-line and an angry snake with a broom but she presented me with a pair of rubber boots and a stern look and I obliged, comforted by the fact we have full health cover and life insurance.

Poor Cedric was in a muddle - battle the broom or battle the birds - what was he to do?

The broom eventually lost and Cedric did re-enter the roof cavity. I haven't seen Cedric for a few days now, but he will be back, I'm sure.

It's wildlife in the suburbs.