Snakes in the Garden

SNAKES IN THE GARDEN

by Del Gibson

ON A BEAUTIFUL barmy day in Wellington in 1999, I went to the letter-box to collect the Dominion Post. On the front-page was an article that caught my attention. The article says:

Snakes-Skins Found in The Botanical Gardens, Wellington. At the Botanical Gardens, in Wellington – a tourist came across a  curious item. The unnamed man was looking at the roses when he found a snake-skin. It was two-meters in length and appeared to have been shed by a python snake; typically found in Australia. After alerting the grounds man, they proceeded to search the gardens for what could possibly be a two-meter-long Python. Within an hour of searching, they discovered yet another snake-skin reported to be approximately the same length as the first. The appropriate authorities have been notified and a thorough investigation is underway. In the interim, the Botanical Gardens have been closed to the public. Peter Adams, head-grounds man explains, “It is a very concerning matter, as snakes in New Zealand could potentially cause detrimental consequences to the environment.”

But I had to laugh, doubled over in hysterics. My husband Brian asked me what was so funny, but I couldn’t catch my breath. I was laughing so hard; I must have looked like a crazy person. I nearly pissed myself from all the laughing. We were sitting at our kitchen table and my hysterics were disturbing his breakfast. Frustration owned his face.

“God Joanne, I think you are losing the plot. What are you laughing at?” he asked, munching away at his cereal.

I handed him said newspaper and he read what had set me off into hysterics.

“Ok…I really don’t see the funny side Joe, snakes in New Zealand? That would be a disaster,” he said, looking at me confused. His frown made little crinkles above his nose. I love that about him.

“Ok Brian, if I tell you, you have to promise never to tell anyone. Agree?” I spluttered through the giggles.

“Yeah sure, I agree. But I’m not sure what I’m agreeing to! You aren’t making any sense,” he said looking more confused than ever. He asked me to explain myself.

“Remember when I went to Aussie to see my brother? When was that…a month ago now?”

“Yes Joe, of course I remember. What about it?” his tone rather patronising, but I let it go.

“While I was there, I met a snake handler called Onyx. Anyway, I got the chance to hold a couple of pythons and they were amazing and beautiful. Their skin felt like silk and not what I had expected as I thought they would be scalier” I remember the exhilaration I felt the moment I held each snake. I wasn’t afraid, I was in awe of them.

“Yes, I recall you mentioning it to me,” he said with obvious agitation. Then he asked me why the article caused me to react so – immaturely?

“Well, when I was about to leave, Onyx asked me if I would like to take their skins with me. The snakes had just shed them a few days earlier. I looked at the skins and they were a true example of how wonderful and intricate nature is. They looked like lace. I took them and brought them back with me.”

“Where are they now? You haven’t told me anything about this?”

“When I got to customs at Wellington airport, they said I couldn’t keep them unless I have them fumigated. I handed them over and the customs official told me they would be in contact when the skins were ready to be collected.” I recall the scene and the attention I received about the skins. Everyone gawked and pointed.

“Ok…so what happened to them? You don’t have them here otherwise you would have shown them to me. So, where are they?”

“Well, that’s the thing. They called me last week and explained how they had lost them! Someone had thoughtlessly opened a window and both the skins had blown away. He apologised for the muck-up, I wasn’t happy about it and told him so. But I had forgotten all about it until I read the article.”

“And what does this have to do with your skins?” he asked.

“You wouldn’t believe it, but the fumigation centre is located across the road from the Botanical Gardens. They are my snake-skins they have found. There are no snakes in the garden, just skins all the way from Western Australia,” once again I ended up belly-laughing, until it hurt my sides.

Brian looked appalled. His face paled and he looked at me with an earnest look of disapproval. Then suddenly he was laughing along with me.

“Why don’t you tell them?” he managed to ask through his laughter. “You know it is only right you tell the authorities about the mix-up.”

“Because I’m still upset by the fact, they let them blow out the window! I really wanted to keep them. Plus, they should have better systems in place and this will serve as a lesson to them, if they ever figure out what’s happened!”

A couple of days later, there was another article about the snake-skins in the Botanical Gardens. It said they hadn’t found any further evidence of snakes but believe someone may have deliberately placed the skins there as a prank. The joke was on them! that was for sure.

Life resumed to normal, no snakes and the Botanical Gardens re-opened to the public. I didn’t do anything about it. I didn’t notify anyone. This is not my normal behaviour, but I felt a sense of satisfaction knowing the truth of how the snake-skins ended up being in the Botanical Gardens. Perhaps I could have told the police to clear-up the situation, give the people who visit the gardens and the staff, of course, some sort of peace-of-mind. I had a little giggle at my naughtiness and decided I would leave it be and if they are smart enough, they will figure it out on their own.

THE END

Copyright © Gibson, Del 2021