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A workmate friend of my sister; Donella was her name, was asking questions about snakes and how she felt the shame of murderers who kill them off; ‘They’re God’s creatures too you know’, but she had then admitted she’d never been confronted though. I listened to Donella’s pleading; soon realizing she was ‘green’. ‘Don’t chop a tree; don’t kill an ant’, so to not make a scene, I asked her and my sister if they’d like to come with me, and leave the city for a week to see harsh outback country. We travelled to Mildura then drove up to Broken Hill. They marveled at the open spaces; Donella had to ‘grill’ about what killed the mulga? Why all the kangaroo’s are dead? Then realized quick smart; one jumped in front of us ahead. We drove toward Wilcannia - at ‘Little Topar’ had a bite to eat, then on the road again and she’s complaining of the heat. “What’s that?” Donella pointed toward some dry grass in the sand. Something very shiny was moving quickly ‘cross the land. A brown snake quite confused could now sense us I suspect, and even with this safe predicament I gave it my respect. “We’ve got to help” Donella pleaded, “Being cruel would be a sin”. Somehow the snake had jammed its head inside a baked bean tin. I said “The best thing we can do is find a sturdy stick, and hit it just behind the head, for that will kill it quick”. Donella gave a look of steel; her piercing eyes bore into me. “You grab the snake and I the tin and then we will set it free”. Of course I tried to argue but my argument can’t win. I dived down and grabbed the snake while Donella grabbed the tin. The snake contorted in my hands and when released it seemed its danger was more paramount when Donella loudly screamed. Attempts to bite and hissing noise now made me realize, I can’t let go the snake now; there’s too much anger in its eyes. And the girls have run off to the car. Donella is no ‘greenie’ now. “Kill it, kill it!” she screamed out. So I had yelled back “How?” I flung the snake into the air; it landed in among dry grass. As I jogged back toward the car the bloody thing slid past. The girls, hysterically ran off and in the sun stood on the tar, with the only cover ‘round the place was of course the car. I tried to make suggestions, about what should be done. But all to no avail; they’d rather die out in the sun. A friendly ‘cocky’ came along and took the girls to Broken Hill. I drove back with the missing snake that could be in there still.
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