Call back the (snakey) past.

Due to the fact that I grew up as an only child, I lead a

very protected and molly coddled life with Mom and Dad.

Mom never allow me to go swimming with a crowd

of school friends - therefor I learned to swim many years later, and

school excursions was a definate NO NO!!

So, whenever this born and bred "city slicker" had the opportunity

to visit Grandma and Grandad on the farm in Oudtshoorn (SA) I let my

"hair down" good and proper !

Most of my childhood memories were spent among my cousins

on that farm, and if one of them were not prepared to "come out and play"

I'd simply disappear for hours on end - avoiding all warnings

about the dangers lurking around.

Not far from the farm house was a small stream of water that

flows down into the big river, this stream of water was also

one of my many favorite places to play.

One day as I was hopping and skipping along the water's edge ,

a snake suddenly (see picture above) appeared right in front of me.

Perhaps it was fright or perhaps it was my nature (I was always

running and jumping) but whatever it was, I took one huge jump

and practically flew over the snake.

Later that evening, while we were all sitting around the supper table, I

mentioned my incident with the brown snake with the white stripes.

Naturally Mom turned a whiter shade of pale!

The snake is known as a SKAAPSTEKER, and farmers believed

that it bites and kills the sheep, but this "back fanged" snake

is only moderately poisonous to humans.

Then again on another occasion, I insisted on carrying a hay bale

on my back, I reckoned if the black farm workers can do so, why

can't I!

One of the farm workers arranged a small bale for me to carry,

but little did any of us know that I was transporting a snake

on my back.

When my "job" was done, I dumped the hay bale onto the

ground, and as the straw bale reached the ground, a fairly long snake

crawled out and slithered away.

Believe me, I enjoyed every moment of the action and commotion, but

poor ol' Mom had to be revived with a queer smelling medical

aid called smelling salts!!

I can easily sit here all night and write about my escapades on that

farm, but my thanks go to a blogger friend (you know who you are)

who enspired me and placed the idea in my head to write a little

something about yesteryear!