The Closest Human Confrontation Between An Overly Brave Young Visitor & A Black Mamba.

One snake-versus-human confrontation was between an overly brave young visitor to Sabiepark and a black mamba. The boy surprised the young mamba of about three-quarter metre at the cubicles of the tennis court. Instead of retreating step by cautious step, he, foolishly, tried to catch the snake. For his trouble he was bitten on his finger.

Sabiepark personnel rushed to fetch a lasso-pole. When they returned, the boy’s mother, a formidable lady, had already sent the mamba into eternity. If it was an older and larger mamba with stronger venom, that lad would probably not have been fortunate enough to recover completely.

A puff-adder one evening at dusk gave me a terrible fright at Tarlehoet. It suddenly glided out of the grass and slid noiselessly in front of my feet over the brick paving of my lapa, where I was about to start my campfire. I stood frozen. By the weak light of two torches, Tokkie on another occasion managed to send a puff-adder to kingdom come in front of our store room. Brent Claassens, my son-in-law from Cape Town, in a moment of bravery, got rid of an eastern tiger snake, with the use of cleverly manipulated braai tongs.

A snake in our thatch!

One fine day my observant wife noticed two little green snakes. They became regular visitors. Sometimes they were seen on the paving of the rear stoep; sometimes in the branches of a disorderly raisin-bush next to the stoep. Later on, they moved to the joints between the bricks of the house, seeking the warmth of the northerly sun. At the least sign of danger they fled, worming themselves into the tiniest crevices under our thatched roof. A snake in our thatch – no make it two of them!

My imagination took off, picturing scenarios of wriggling reptiles falling from the roof on the sleeping Van Deventers. This matter needed urgent attention. We borrowed the lasso-pole at the office – a long one of about two metres with a loop at the end. This must be flung over the head of the reptile. The loop must be pulled tight, and ergo – you have your snake! How we were going to manoeuvre the loop around the slender snake neck, I had to see.

But that was Tokkie’s department. She paraded, pole over her shoulder, all around the house, practising at catching leaves and little branches. High, low, at all angles, she was ready to attack from anywhere. Often she cheered when she detected one of the fugitives. They emerged from their hole to warm themselves against the wall – the front part of the body conveniently resting on the window sill. They remained out of reach of the pole. Time and again they would disappear in the holes where the wall and thatch meet.

As soon as one “greeny” peeped out, Tokkie was there. Pursuer and pursued kept an eye on one another, weighing various options. Tokkie could climb the ladder and try to “rake” them in. It was not the most practical plan, I thought, watching at a distance. If anything should go awry, she could fall from the ladder with a snake on top of her. She threatened to buy Doom Fogger (for crawling insects) and to “fogger” the “buggers” out of the roof.

The fact that the actual hideaways were identified, in the end made her decide to attack those shelters with Doom. It worked with the smaller intruder. A joint attack by Tokkie and Griet, the maid, each armed with a can of Doom, paralysed the forked tongue. The lasso-pole of the office, abundant spray of the secret weapon and a few well-aimed blows with a spade, put an end to enemy number 1. The larger boarder, unfortunately, escaped. I regretfully have to report that I was the one who was armed with the spade when the green snake hit the ground. My reactions were, alas, far too slow. I’m sure it received the fright of its life, though – probably thanks to Tokkie’s Doom. At least it did not return.

At one stage I placed two plastic toy snakes on window sills to scare off marauding baboons. Whether it was a factor in deterring those scoundrels from reappearing, I don’t know. What I do know, is that I received such a fright from my own baboon deterrents that I felt a proper fool. I was speechless and red in the face, Tokkie said. Baboons know toy snakes are all bluff. Humans, however, don’t always remember that their toys are not the real McCoy, when, suddenly and unexpectedly, they appear in the wrong places. Scorpions and spiders