Back in December I told you the story of Clover the python and her near death experience and her relocation to places quite far away
Well we recently had a visit from a Russian farmer delegation and whilst visiting the dairy they spotted something in the big Figtree that had them quite fascinated
Well blow me down if it wasn’t our good friend Clover
The dairy is only 100 metres from my house and I will keep my fingers crossed Clover decides to make the dairy her new home.
I am a sixth generation farmer but I don’t like snakes, rats and spiders any more than your average city person
I grew up in NSW heartland and saw plenty of brown snakes that knew to keep well away from my father and his shotgun.
At Clover Hill there are no shotguns but plenty of red belly black snakes and no shortage of pythons including the one that has been living in the Illawarra Flame tree just outside my kitchen window scaring the bejesus out of my visitors when he/she suns him/herself on my front steps and my chooks 24/7
Yesterday I was enjoying a freshly made latte with milk straight from the udder so to speak before joining my sister for a Foodscape Tour and looking out the kitchen window I spotted what was causing all the commotion in the chook pen
Now I didn’t have time to take pictures of this snake let alone video footage ( yes I did that too) and then discover this snake was indeed stuck in the netting and in desperate need of rescue.
So who do you call? WIRES of course and who was the best person for this job at this time? Michael of course. Though not happy that I thought he had more time than me to do this.
But its not just about time is it? In this case he was the person who could lend a hand if necessary (and there was no way in the world I was going to wear that hat) and besides I had a Foodscape Tour to join
So what happened to “Clover” the snake you ask. Yes Hugh from WIRES called our snake Clover
Find out if here if there is a happy ending for Clover
Hugh from WIRES and Clover our friendly python who ate too many rats at once–thank god it wasn’t my chickens