My German penfriend, Frank, concurs. When he first visited Australia, we took him for a nice summer’s walk in the bush. Near the top of the hill, he spotted the front half of a blue-tongue sunning itself on a rock. “SCHLANGE! (snake!),” he shrieked and hot-footed it down the hill. He was nowhere in sight when my partner called after him, “It’s just a lizard, mate.”
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Fear. It’s all relative but I reckon we don’t so much fear for our health or mortality when we come across a scary creature in the home as we are (unpleasantly) surprised. Well, I wasn’t expecting you, dear rabies-carrying bat, to fly through the open window. And I wasn’t expecting you, rattus rattus, to leap out of the laundry basket. And enough with the darting and scuttling already. If you creatures were more sedentary, we’d get along so much better.
Non-fun fact. Which animal do you think is linked to the most deaths in Australia? The shark, the snake, the bee? Nay. The horse. According to a 2020 NCIS (National Coronial Information System) fact sheet covering the years 2001 to 2017, the horse contributed to almost one-third of animal-related deaths in Australia. Falling from a horse was the main contributor. Misadventure with bovines was second on the list, contributing to about 15 per cent of animal-related deaths.
Over the years, our family home has been a certified menace menagerie. We’ve had a duck and a possum fall down the chimney (not simultaneously), a wasp nest in a bedroom, a huntsman give birth to hundreds of adorable spiderettes and a long-horned beetle crawl across the face of a sleeping woman. For a while we hosted, in the bathroom at night, a magnificent leopard slug the size of my ring finger. I’d pick him up by his spongy sides and place him back in the shower recess. By morning, he’d have vanished into his secluded slugdom only to repeat his visit night after night. I’m convinced we bonded, Sluggy and I, and I won’t hear a word otherwise.
The most startling encounter with a creepy was years ago following dinner with a friend from Switzerland. Chocolates were the gift du jour and I’d happily stashed them in my bag, returned to my tiny flat and gone to bed. In the middle of the night came that crackly scratchy sound that at first you don’t believe you really heard. And then it crackles again and you do.
Home is where the blue-tongue is … a lizard found in a suburban home. Credit: Paul Rovere
I switch on the light in time to see a mouse emerging from my bag. I scream. I stand on the bed. I take an Olympics-worthy long jump out of the bedroom into the living room. I ring the boyfriend who arrives with an empty ice cream container. And a grin like a Cheshire cat.
Jo Stubbings is a freelance writer and reviewer.
