Things that go "bump" in the night

“From ghoulies and ghosties and long-leggedy beasties and things that go bump in the night...good Lord, deliver us.” An old Scottish prayer

It was after 10pm. We were winding down the day, near the end of a video on the computer, almost falling asleep when WHAM!...something hit the boat.

We jumped up, startled and clambered on deck. Our heartbeats quickened; a little adrenaline rush. David turned on the spreader lights. He rushed aft; I shot forward. The night was inky black, the moon behind thick clouds. The wind had been in the mid-high 30 knot range all day. We feared one of the little boats on moorings in the bay had broken loose.

David called to me: “I found what hit us.” I made my way aft, looking in the water for a log or little skiff. I could see nothing. David pointed to his feet. A rather large seagull had flown head-on into our shrouds and was laying on the deck in a stupor. The WHAM had been very significant and this guy had obviously been speeding and not looking at where he was going. He lay very still for several minutes and then slowly came around, squawking loudly at us as if we had planted those shrouds in the way just to trip him up.

We had had a similar instance in Preservation Inlet, Fiordland, way down on the southern tip of New Zealand's South Island. At anchor on a rainy, foggy night, we heard a similar WHAM. It was a fairy prion on our coach roof. It apparently had hit the boom while flying over the boat. He gathered his little prion wits together as we scrambled topsides and flew away before we really had a good look at him. We went back down below.

Shortly thereafter, there was loud TWANG, then a THUMP. Was this the same prion or a different one? It sounded as if he'd hit a shroud. Before we could open up the companionway slider and get topside to investigate, we heard something tap, tap, tapping at our portlights. A prion was peeking in at us from the side deck. We heard a commotion in the cockpit. Another prion, no two prions, no four … we lost count … were sitting in our cockpit, pecking at the portlights and at the companionway hatch boards. A couple were just relaxing on the cockpit seats. We could hear them chatting amongst themselves. “Do you think anyone's home? Will they let us in?” Most of the birds eventually found their way out of the cockpit and flew off. A couple remained and David gently wrapped them in towels and put each in turn back into the water.

Discussion with a naturalist a few days later confirmed that this was not unusual on foggy nights. The birds became confused and disoriented and headed towards light … our anchor light and interior cabin lights to be exact.

Well, back to our night visitor. It was dark, but not rainy or foggy. Our seagull friend had no excuse other than he wasn't paying attention. He squawked a bit more, but looked like he was no worse for the wear. He fluttered and flapped his wings a bit, but still appeared a bit disoriented. David wrapped a towel around him and put him back in the water, hoping he'd recuperate better in his own element.

You just never know when friends are going to drop in.

Worse than snakes

I'm an arachnophobe. I have an illogical, unexplainable fear of spiders. I've listened to all the gardeners' spiels about how wonderful spiders are for eating up bad insects. My parents chided me as a child for being afraid of “something so tiny” compared to my size. I read Charlotte's Web and loved Charlotte, until I remembered she was really a spider. It may be an irrational fear, but it's very real. The very thought of them gives me goosebumps. Years ago, I nearly wrecked my Dad's car when a very small spider announced his presence by gliding down his web from the sunscreen and dangling directly in front of my nose while I was driving. My son used to hide plastic spiders in the freezer and the ice cube tray to terrorize me. The ultimate was when both sons announced they had a new pet named Regina. Turned out Regina was a black widow spider who lived in a window well and they'd been feeding her flies. Out came the can of Raid and Regina was history despite the “Mom, you're so unfair” histrionics from the boys.

We spent a day in the Darien Jungle hunting for elusive harpy eagles. Our 5-foot tall guides had no problems scooting under the spider webs which hung over the damp, thickly overgrown path. Being 5'9”, however, had me eye to eye with one spider about as big as a Buick. I screamed, knocked off my hat and David did a quick spider check much to the amusement of the locals. I hollered in Spanish “I'm afraid of spiders. I hate spiders.” Unfortunately, the word for spider in Spanish is very close to the word for sand. You guessed it...I was screaming about my fear of sand, not spiders. Something definitely got lost in the translation.

In Fiji, I was admiring a cool t-shirt hanging on the wall in a little rural shop, thinking I'd buy it as a gift. Until...a very large brown hairy spider crawled out from behind it...a huntsman. The buying decision was immediately recanted and this buyer made tracks.

Access from the boat to the lovely resort at Palmlea in Vanua Levu, Fiji was along a beautiful tree-lined, grassy path. Several huge yellow orb spiders strung webs between the trees and hung about 10-15 feet over the pathway. There was definitely enough head clearance, but I cringed and hurried my step every time we walked up that path.

So here we are in Australia where some 2,000+ spider species live...that's about 1/17 of the worldwide identified 35,000 spider species. Scientists think there are probably many more unidentified species...but we really don't need to go there. Of the 2,000 species here, only about 17 species are harmless to humans. I was scared to death that I'd meet up with a Sydney funnel web spider when we were in Sydney or a Blue Mountain funnel web when we went traipsing through the Blue Mountains with Doug & Fay last year. Our Aussie friends, David and Marly, sent us a funny YouTube video about the red back spiders that have a penchant for dunnies (outhouses). They especially like to hang out under the toilet seat. After the floods in Waga Waga this year, millions of sheet weaver spiders invaded the area covering the whole town in webs that looked like snow. Yuck!

Heading into the toilet block here in the marina the other day, I didn't notice a large huntsman all scrunched up in a corner of the toilet stall about three feet away from where I was sitting. I was in a no-move situation when I spotted him. He stretched. I cringed. He moved. I shuddered. I spoke to him calmly and passively. “Don't move, you big hairy bastard, till I'm done and out of here.” I don't usually swear, but I figured I'd stun him with my tough language. It worked. He froze. I finished, without taking my eye off him for a second. I slowly stood up; he inched. I repeated my harsh words with more venom in my voice this time. He remained stone still. I opened the door and slid past him like a wraith. Now every time I go into the toilet, it's an inconvenient, but necessary, time consuming effort to check the stall environs for eight-legged invaders or slithering ones or slimy ones. Since David & Marly's YouTube presentation, I check under the seat, too.

Though I hate spiders, I do appreciate their handiwork...all eight hands worth.

Slither

I really dislike snakes. David is ambivalent towards them, but there's no ambivalence for me. I mean I REALLY dislike them. There are lots of snakes in Australia. In fact, there are about 170 different species of snakes here on land and in the sea. Eight of the ten most poisonous snakes in the world call Australia home, yet snakes are protected animals in Australia. To make you feel better, only 25 of these baddies are actually capable of killing humans. What a relief! Not that I wish them harm, but geez, they seem to have enough protection of their own with all that venom. We had our first encounter with a venomous brown snake near the marina in Bundaberg right after we first arrived. We were taking a walk and we barely saw a trace of him as he slipped under some cane stalks and slithered on his way. In fact, we weren't totally sure we'd seen a snake at all and quite honestly, we weren't interested in finding out. The eastern brown snake is responsible for about 60% of all the snakebite deaths in Australia. Several other folks had seen snakes in the same area. We avoided that path thereafter.

On my birthday in November, springtime in Australia, we headed to Burrum National Park for a day of hiking in a tropical paradise. I had my camera and I mentioned that I was hoping to see a snake far enough away to be safe, but close enough to allow me to photograph it without feeling intimidated. I got my birthday wish. What we thought from a distance was a large branch fallen across the path was instead a carpet python blocking our way. I photographed part of him as he slid back under the dense fern foliage. I found myself mesmerized by his size and undulating motion. At least pythons are not venomous. They're constrictors and just squeeze you to death. According to experts, the largest python on the continent is nearly 20 feet long and capable of eating large wallabies (or small children). I'm not sure this was a snake I wanted to meet or photograph. We watched as our python specimen slowly eased his way into the underbrush and I stayed determinedly in the middle of the path for the rest of the hike.

We note that there are always several brochures available for snake first-aid in the tourist centers. We read them: No tourniquets, just pressure bandages. Don't let the snake bite victim move. Identify the snake. The Bundaberg Port Marina even offered a first-aid seminar to cruisers for snake bites and had professional snake handlers on hand for demonstrations. That was reassuring.

Now that we're in Tasmania, I thought it would be too cold for snakes. But, no...there are three varieties here...all venomous. We spoke with the locals and several confirmed they'd never seen a snake here, so we felt pretty confident we'd never see one. What we forgot is that most Australians, like most Americans, don't tend to go out in the bush too much and most live in urban areas.

We sailed the boat into Macquarie Harbour, on Tasmania's west coast and then up the Gordon River. This was about as far from “urban” as you can get. It's described as “the western wilderness”. Across from historic Warner's Landing where we'd tied Nine of Cups, we waved at a kayaker who paddled by to say hello. Bob, an octogenarian kayaker no less, was camping across the river at a bush hut and we invited him to dinner aboard. During the course of our meal, he mentioned the "caretakers" that were local residents. Two large tiger snakes, the most venomous snakes in Tassie and third most venomous in Australia, liked to sunbathe on a rock behind the hut. He invited us over to take a look. Did I really want to see them?

There were no snakes in sight as we beached the dinghy the next morning. Bob met us and confirmed he hadn't seen the “boys” yet, but if we waited for few minutes, they'd probably show up. I half expected them to lurch out at us at any moment. We chatted and waited. Sure enough, a small tiger snake about 2' long poked his head up between the slats of a rotting, wooden drainage grate not far from where we were standing. As he lifted and extended his body, I could see the orange and black stripes on his underside that earned him his name. His tongue flickered and he slithered out of hiding across the porch along the side of the hut and into the grass. I could feel my skin crawl and the hairs on my arms stand at attention. I was even less than enthralled when Bob shared the fact that these slitherers can swim and they're pretty good tree climbers, too. As the little fellow disappeared behind the hut, two other tiger snakes, much larger by a couple feet, appeared, heading for the favored rock. That was enough for me. I climbed back into my skin and headed for the dinghy. I later read that tiger snakes are diurnal and generally favor cool moist areas and tussock. They are abundant near human settlements and are responsible for several fatalities.

Here in the marina, I enter the toilet and shower block with a bit of trepidation. I always check around carefully. The entry door is not raised at all and the locked metal gate is designed to keep out people, but not slithering critters. I envision a huge snake coiled up in a corner somewhere when I head in to do my business. The toss-up is whether the spiders or the snakes will get me … and then, of course, there are always the slimy worms.

There have only been six deaths in Australia attributable to snakebites since 2000. I read that bites usually occur when someone accidentally steps on the snake. It makes them irritable. According to statistics, we'd be more likely to die from a horseback riding or scuba accident or a lightning strike. Hmmm...I think we'll continue walking with our heads down.