Afraid no longer, Nathan Davies jumps boots first into snake catching class

SUNDAY Mail resident herpetophobe Nathan Davies has taken his fear of snakes in his own hands, and feet.

SNAKES. Can’t say I’ve ever been a huge fan.

I get that they’re an important part of the Australian ecosystem. I’m even willing to accept that they’re kind of fascinating, in a creepy way. I just don’t like them near me.

For me, snakes are a bit like great whites – best viewed from a distance.

Growing up on the Lower Eyre Peninsula, venomous snakes were a part of everyday life in the warmer months. You saw them in the bush, on the roads, and in the dunes when you were walking to the beach.

Mum hated them. We spent a few years on a scrubby farm outside of Port Lincoln where we grew tomatoes and cucumbers, but we probably would’ve made more money charging people to see the snakes.

They slithered around our 16ha patch with carefree abandon, treating it like some kind of reptilian Disneyland. I’m pretty sure it was advertised in Brown Snake Weekly as the perfect getaway.

Generally we left them alone, but the ones that came too close to the house were … dispatched. Disposed of. Hoed, shovelled, whacked with a length of copper wire or filled with birdshot from an ancient .22 rifle.

Don’t judge us too harshly, it was the 1980s after all, a time when one of the best things to do in Port Lincoln was to go down to the jetty after school to see the dead white pointers hanging from the shark tower.

Rudy Della-Flora handling a snake. Picture: Matt Loxton

We couldn’t walk anywhere without mum yelling out “have you got a snake bandage?” and insisting we wear boots even on the hottest day. Her told-you-so moment came on the day dad was bitten on the ankle in one of the greenhouses by an eastern brown. Luckily mum knew exactly what to do – compression bandage, immobilisation – and dad pulled through OK (although he did end up with dodgy kidneys, possibly a consequence of the bite).

So it was with a fair degree of trepidation that I greeted the news that work had signed me up for a venomous snake-handling course. I’d just returned from a two-week trip to the glorious snake-free paradise of New Zealand when the chief of staff – who, by the way, has a crippling fear of all birds, even sparrows – told me of the plan. “It’ll be fun,” he said. I wasn’t convinced.

But I manned up and completed the course. I let a tiger snake crawl across my boots, caught a red-bellied black snake in a sack and grabbed a brown snake by the tail. At the end of the course I found that my attitude towards these creatures had completely changed. My fear had mellowed to a healthy respect and my desire to turn around and run had completely evaporated. I probably wouldn’t describe myself as a snake lover, but I’m at least a snake liker.

THE handling and awareness course is run by Adelaide Snakecatchers, a group formed in the 1980s to remove snakes from people’s properties.

A dozen of us gathered at the Royal Adelaide Showground for the daylong session. There was a vet nurse who often came across snakes while working, a couple of breeders who were comfortable around pythons but wanted to ramp things up a bit, a married couple from the Mid-North who had snakes on their property and wanted to learn how to deal with them safely, a bloke who was considering becoming a snake catcher … and me.

The day starts with a theory session from herpetologist Geoff Coombe, a man who’s been teaching people about snakes for more than three decades. We run through South Australia’s venomous snakes (death adders, copperheads, black snakes, brown snakes and a few others), how their venom works, and the size of each species’ fangs, and how likely you are to die from a snakebite (not very, as it turns out – from the 1700-odd people who get bitten every year only two to four people actually succumb).

Then it’s on to the first aid component, where we learn the importance of wrapping the entire limb tightly in a compression bandage and keeping the victim as immobile as possible.

After we finish wrapping each other up like mummies, we’re asked to gather in a circle, boot to boot. Things are about to get … snakey.

A red-bellied black snake crawls over my boots. Picture: Nathan Davies

Handler Bruce Pearce steps into the circle with and opens a sealed Tupperware container.

“Make sure your jeans are over your boots and, most importantly, don’t move,” Bruce says as he places a red-bellied black snake on the ground. He doesn’t have to tell us twice – nobody’s moving a muscle. The snake – which is stunningly beautiful with its jet-black top and bright red underside – crawls over our boots. A few expletives are whispered, but the snake is placid and quite slow-moving, as red-bellies tend to be.

But Bruce isn’t finished with us yet, not by a long shot. Next he puts a tiger snake into the circle, vividly striped and much more active than the red-belly.

It gives out a number of surprisingly loud hisses as it makes its way around the ring of boots. It stops between the boots of the bloke next door to me, and he’s visibly uncomfortable about it. I’m not particularly thrilled either.

“Try not to let your heart jump out of your chest,” Geoff laughs. “If it lands on the snake it might bite you.” Funny for some.

Bruce has, naturally, saved the best for last. The eastern brown snake – generally considered to be the second-most toxic snake on Earth – is quick and whippy, with a nervous energy that makes everyone in the circle equally nervous. Its movements are quicker and less predictable than the first two snakes.

Eventually Bruce puts him back in his box and we break for lunch, wondering what scares await us in the afternoon.

Rudy Della-Flora does his thing at the Royal Adelaide Showgrounds. Picture: Matt Loxton

AFTER lunch we go through more first aid with Geoff, including what not to (tourniquet, sucking out poison, cutting the bite, weeing on it), and how to identify potential snake habitats.

Then it’s time for the part that everyone’s been looking forward to and dreading in equal parts – catching snakes.

We start with something docile and unlikely to bite – a length of black rope. The idea of the rope is to get us used to the catching process, which involves scooping the snake with a jigger into a canvas bag on a pole, twisting the bag up tight and tying it off with a special clip. Once everyone was competent with the rope it was on to the real thing. We begin with the red-belly, before moving on to a speedy eastern brown.

The red-belly plays nice and I soon have him bundled up safe in the sack. The brown, however, has other ideas, rearing up and testing me out with a couple of warning strikes before I finally catch him.

Nathan Davies catches a red-bellied black snake with his bare hands.

“How’s your heart rate,” handler Rudy Della-Flora asks. “Elevated,” I reply. Just when I think we’re about to wrap the day up and go home for a well-deserved beer, Rudy ramps things up again.

“Who wants to learn tailing?” he asks, referring to the practice of catching the snake by hand, just above the tail.

I’m thinking, “Yeah … nah”, but I’m clearly in the minority.

After a couple of practice runs with a brown tree snake we move on to the red-belly.

Somehow I manage to ignore my instincts long enough to grab the snake with my bare hand and drop it in the bag. The eastern brown, of course, is trickier and more frightening, but eventually that too is safely wrapped in calico.

For a final trick, Rudy pulls out a massive brown snake, at least two metres long, with an attitude to match its size. It rears up high, neck flattened, looking for all the world like a cobra from the movies.

Lisa Curtis handling a snake at the Stirling Angas Hall of the Royal Adelaide Showgrounds in Wayville, as part of a snake handling and awareness course. Picture: Matt Loxton

“Anybody want to have a go at grabbing this guy?” Rudy asks.

Nobody raises their hand. Nobody, that is, except Jarred, a breeder with more than 90 pythons in his house.

“I’ll have a crack,” he says.

“No you won’t,” Rudy laughs. “You’re not ready for this guy.”

And with that we’re done. Everyone agrees that’s been an incredible experience, and, on a personal level, it’s changed my attitude towards these fascinating animals. I’m still, however, happy to view them from a distance.

And if all that wasn’t scary enough, here are some more videos of snakes at their best — and worst.

CONTACT ADELAIDE SNAKE CATCHERS ON 0413 635 373. SA REPTILE EDUCATION OFFERS AN UP-CLOSE EXPERIENCE FOR KIDS, including class groups, birthday parties and scout groups. Call 0409 280688.