Having learned by bitter experience in the early years of their homesteading just how tempting their stock was to snake, Wayne and Anne Boncyk prepared for the worst. In fact, as individual defenders went, they had more personnel massed on their property than any other farm on the route. As luck would have it, their prize sows tended to farrow every year about the same time as Snake Hunt. But the shrewd and aggressive sows had learned to defend their piglets against these wriggling predators. The females were ruthless and attacked any snake that crossed into their tract, chopping them into squirming pieces with sharp little hooves.
The males were even more aggressive, charging at any snake, no matter what its size, that dared impinge on their territory. Todd had nicknamed the swine herd Wayne’s War Boars, euphonious even if there were more sows than boars.
Just to the right of the line of outbuildings, the pigpens were surrounded by high, lightweight but sharp-edged, metal barriers that could rip open the belly of any snake trying to crawl through. Wayne left the spoor of snake blood on them year after year to try and scare off new marauders, though Todd and others warned him that it worked just the opposite way. Snakes happily consumed their own dead. But to get to the barriers, let alone the sties containing the piglets, the snakes had to pass the cordon of angry boars.
Todd counted the boars ranged along the white metal fence, and gave up at thirty, each averaging about 275 kilos. Two black and white Border collies ran up and down the line, using The Look to keep the pigs from wandering away before the battle began.
“C’mon, Reeve! Get these snakes out of here,” Wayne cried, hoisting his bow to his shoulder. That was the signal to his crew. They pressed forward to help the Hunters form a strong cordon against the advancing mass of snakes. With hand gestures, Todd directed them to the best points to reinforce the defenses around the byres.
“Where’re the rest of the barricades?” Todd demanded, looking at the bare rear edge of the pens.
“Got a stand of new olive trees,” Wayne said, pointing beyond the pen to a grove of young saplings with gray-green foliage. “I don’t want them snakes mowing them down.”
“For life and love, Wayne,” Todd said in a groan, slapping himself in the head. “Snakes don’t eat olives, they eat meat!”
“The boars’ll get ‘em,” the stockman assured him.
The inrush of stragglers made for a lively few minutes, to the joy of Jilamey Landreau, who’d been somewhat disappointed with the tame atmosphere of this year’s Hunt. Once on the Boncyk property, the Hunters and snakes were within a few kilometers of the marshes, the end of the journey, which meant that Jilamey had only a short time in which to secure his second snake to complete his Rite of Passage, or go without for another year. Snake sack in hand, the Human was casting frantically about him for a likely catch.
“Jilamey!” Todd shouted. “Help Anne!”
With a guilty start, the younger man wound the sack around his saddle horn and kicked his horse over to where Mrs. Boncyk and two farmhands were fighting off tiddlers who were slithering around the pen looking for any weakness. The open edge drew the wily squirmers like a magnet. Boars rushed to protect their families, getting underfoot of the horses and squealing fiercely whenever a quarterstaff blow meant for a snake struck one of them in the back. Jilamey prodded escaping snakes until they retreated far enough upwind to lose the pig-redolent air. Most departed hastily for the marshes. One struck back at his quarterstaff. Anne Boncyk raised the crossbow at her knee, and fired.
The quarrel hit the ground under the snake’s jaw, missing it by feet. Anne reined her horse away, not quite believing she’d missed.
Hurriedly, Jilamey kicked his horse over and bashed the surprised snake over the head with his quarterstaff, which made it recoil and double away.
“Aim a little higher,” he called. “I make that mistake myself.”
“My darned sights must be off,” Anne swore, fiddling with the cross hairs.
There was a tremendous explosion on the opposite side of the barn. Todd grabbed for his radio.
“Anybody! What was that?”
“Sapper mine,” Kelly’s voice replied. “A horde of tiddlers was moving in between the house and the granary. The survivors are stopping to eat the carrion. You won’t have to worry about this avenue for a while. Team Two’s moving up! I just saw Hrrula.”
“Thanks, hon,” Todd said, replacing the unit on its clip. He gestured to Don to move out to the opposite end of the grounds to check that no small snakes were trying to sneak around the far end of the building.
Hrriss had had his eye on a good-sized Momma Snake that moved up among the ranks of younger reptiles. The smell of delicious fresh meat just beyond the barrier tempted it away from the road home. At present, the huge snake was staying out of range of Hrriss’ sharp spear, but still trying to make a break for the pigpens. Gerrh leaped down to join the boars hunting small snakes. The pigs grunted at him, but didn’t attack, accepting him tentatively as a fellow predator.
Inside the smelly enclosure, the sows were running round and round their mud patches, screaming challenges to the snakes outside, detailing in Pig—Todd grinned to himself—just exactly what they’d do to any reptiles they got.
The screams of the attacking boars as they stomped tiddlers to death added to the din as the Hunters tried to restore order. Todd’s horse slipped slightly on the bloody pieces of one snake. The boar who had killed it was eating some of the flesh with savage grunts of pleasure. Todd held tight with his knees as Gypsy recovered and got to more secure footing. Then he chased four live snakes away from a damaged portion of the fence that lay tilted, leaving a tempting rent through which a small snake would squeeze.
“We are here,” Hrrula’s voice called through the radio link.
“Good,” Todd replied. “I want to split this stream of snakes into two parts, send ‘em around the farm and down into the swamps. Can you set up a blockade just below the fence with the Beaters to deflect them?”
“Will do,” Hrrula affirmed.
Hrriss’ Momma Snake made one more effort to escape before he harried it beyond the farm. Once it was upwind of the pigs, the smell of salt air touched its sensitive tongue and nostrils, reminding it that there were easier meals elsewhere.
“He’s down, he’s down!” the handsets screeched. With a final swipe at a pair of tiddlers who’d just decided to leave, Todd grabbed for his radio.
“Report! Who is it?”
“Hrrula,” wailed the voice, evidently one of Team Two’s duffers.
“It’s me, Todd,” Robin’s voice exclaimed, interrupting the hysterical outcry. “Hrrula got spun off when a snake twined a foreleg. He’s okay, but there are a couple of Momma Snakes coming around your side of the barn with a flood of tiddlers. I’ll join you as soon as I’ve got him up again. Llewellyn’s blocking the path. Five Lures just came out of the woods to help. Hey, it’s the Biker Babes!”
“Thanks, Robin,” Todd said, smiling grimly. His eyes met Hrriss’ over the pigpens. They were in for a tough fight. Momma Snakes were tough and canny, having survived many years of Snake Hunts, and they were big.
Another charge exploded noisily, alerting them that more snakes had tried to enter the vulnerable farmyard. Not for the first time, Todd cursed Boncyk, who refused to move his pigs to a more secure location during the farrowing season. The sharp whine and buzz of motorbikes cut through other noises, marking the arrival of the all-female team of Lures Robin had nicknamed the Biker Babes.
Robin had been right to call the mass of snakes a flood. The very ground undulated with a hissing carpet that inexorably flowed toward the sties. The dry grass beneath the snakes sounded as if it were on fire. All the Hunters who were free moved to intercept them.
“Blockade in position, Todd,” Llewellyn Carn reported by radio. “Hope you can handle what’s up there!”
The smaller
reptiles braided in and out between the hooves of the horses, causing even some of the Hunt-hardened mounts to dance nervously. Not even seasoned horses liked a snake twining up their legs, so most were lashing out, fore and hind. The eleven-meter length of the first Momma Snake slithered into view, making directly for the War Boars. She wouldn’t be intimidated by their hooves or their cries of defiance, as she could swallow one whole while on the move. Todd fretted that the few Hunters he had on hand might not be equal to her determined challenge.
Then the second of the Momma Snakes appeared around the edge of the barn, pursued by Anne Boncyk and Kelly. They loosed crossbow bolts, hitting it along the back just below the head, which distracted it, but didn’t really slow it down. Hrriss and Jan joined the chase.
“Hi!” Kelly called to Todd. “This one’s a real trier.”
“Where are the children?” Todd asked, looking about him in panic. The ponies would be vulnerable to this Big Momma.
“Back there!” Kelly gestured. “With the Gringg!”
Now the cluster of five young riders and their horses, with their gigantic escort, galloped up the rise. Not allowed to carry more dangerous weapons, the Alley Cats and Hrriss’ children did have dart guns and slingshots with which they were uncannily expert. Keeping their horses moving at a good distance and parallel to the snakes, they used darts and sling-propelled rocks to distract them from their intended prey and drive them along.
Teddy threw rocks, too. His pad-fingers were too big to fit inside the trigger-guard of a needler, but the stones he threw had the force of a bullet. He hit one snake broadside with a hand-sized stone that opened a bleeding wound on its back. At the smell of blood, several larger snakes swarmed over their unlucky mate, and it was torn to pieces.
“Good shot, Teddy!” Jilamey called. He was reloading his crossbow. “Look out, someone! Get that one!”
Attracted by the new rich musk from Gringg fur, a four-meter tiddler made for Teddy’s horse. No one was nearer than Jilamey. Not stopping to think, he spurred his horse forward until he was nearly on top of the reptile before he struck at it with his quarterstaff. The snake evaded his blow and wound up the shaft onto the saddle before he could drop it. Jilamey went for his knife, but the snake trapped his arm. He let out a roar of pain just as the snake opened its huge maw to engulf his head.
“Morra! Chilmeh!” Teddy cried. The little Gringg leaned over toward Jilamey’s saddle and grabbed the hissing snake around the throat with one paw. Hauling its head away from Jilamey’s body, he began to batter the snake with his other handpaw, his claws rending the thick scales as if they were no more than cotton. Blood spurted, and the snake hung limply in his grasp. Jilamey, rubbing snake spit from his face, stared down at it. Teddy raised his eyes to the Hayuman, almost surprised as Jilamey at what he had done.
“Thank you,” Jilamey said sincerely. As he scrubbed at his face, he could feel his heart hammering in his chest. The muscles of his squeezed arm tingled, and he wiggled the fingers to ease them. “Thank you very much.”
“Rehmeh,” Teddy replied. “I am sorry I got blood on your coat.”
“Think nothing of it,” Jilamey said, shaking his head in wonder. “You saved my life. You’re a real hero, little bear!” He gave a shaking laugh. “People have always warned me about losing my head over Snake Hunting.”
A roar from Grizz attracted their attention. The two adult Gringg had caught the Momma Snake that Hrriss was chasing. Grizz had caught it by the tail and was now working her claws up its back to the head. Meanwhile Eonneh tackled its wide-open jaws, attempting to shut them. The Momma had been all set to swallow the War Boar it had stunned. The immense snake writhed in a furious attempt to dislodge one or the other of its attackers.
“DON’T LET IT GO, GRIZZ!” Robin roared. “It’ll be twice as dangerous now it’s tasted pork blood.”
All the farm Hunters converged upon the scene, peppering the snake with quarrels, while at the same time Eonneh was closing its mouth by the simple expedient of locking his claws right through its tough skull and jaw. Gradually its frenzied thrashing subsided to an occasional twitch. Only then did the two Gringg let go, without noticing the very respectful expressions of the other Hunters.
“Great kill, Gringgs. Thanks. But that’s one down and still one to go,” Wayne said grimly.
The remaining Momma Snake had turned at bay. It was coiled in a huge knot at the corner of the sty, ready to spring on whatever puny creature dared to attack. Todd estimated the snake at a good twelve meters or he’d lost his eye. In that posture and cornered, it would be a bitch to kill. It could strike out in any direction, and even if all of the Hunters charged, it was capable of inflicting considerable damage.
He and Hrriss signalled to the Team to form a circle around the snake. If there was any way to get it moving, they might be able to drive it downhill into the marshes without killing it.
Just then, Jilamey’s horse buckled to its knees and sent him over its head, right into a mass of squirming tiddlers trying to brave the bloodstained barriers around the olive grove. The horse got up and, squealing, fled its immediate danger. Flailing his arms and legs, Jilamey desperately sought to get to his feet. Like living ropes, the snakes impeded his efforts, tripping him until he was up against the light metal blockades. With a cry, he slipped again into the midst of them. Todd spurred Gypsy into the tiddlers, brandishing his quarterstaff from side to side.
That distraction gave the Momma Snake its opportunity. It launched out of its coil at the smallest creatures it could see: the children. Trained in evasive actions, the Alley Cats and Hrriss’ cubs scattered their horses in their mad dash, leaving Teddy behind on the old, slow-moving Rock. While Teddy tried to urge Rock to move, the powerful snake skimmed the ground toward him, as relentless as lava, as fearsome as lightning. Todd and the others wheeled and hurtled toward the vulnerable pair. Teddy let out a deafening squeal that startled old Rock more than the approaching snake. He reared, adding his own scream of terror, and walked backward on his hind legs right up against the wall of the grain barn. The Gringg cub had learned his lesson about holding on. His legs were locked firmly on the pack saddle, but he didn’t know what to do except hang on.
“Mama!” he cried. The voder at his throat made it a weak, high-pitched whimper.
Horses were fast, but Gringg could move with astounding speed when necessary.
“Weddeerogh!” Grizz cried, streaking forward to fall on the snake’s back.
It dragged her for yards, then strained to a halt as the Gringg clawed her way up to its head, repeating the tactic that had been so successful with the other Momma Snake. She threw one massive arm around its neck, wrapped the other one across her wrist, and squeezed. And squeezed. And squeezed.
The snake’s long body whipped dangerously from side to side, making it too perilous for anyone to approach to help her. The Gringg hung on, rolled over and over in the dust by the muscled strength of her prey. As Todd and the others watched in astonishment, the serpent’s frenzied movements grew weaker and finally ceased. The great coils gave one more convulsion and then lay still. Shakily, Grizz rolled off the dead snake and lay on her back. Eonneh rushed forward to help his mate to her feet. Teddy dismounted and hurried to his parents, dragging the unwilling horse behind him by the reins.
“That,” said Robin Reeve, the first to regain his voice, “was the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen in my life. Ever.”
“I warned you how dangerous—” Barnstable began, then stopped, aware of the sudden, almost hostile repudiation of his audience. He cleared his throat and began again. “You are correct. It was an astounding feat of strength. The Gringg make formidable Hunters.”
Todd leaned over and slapped the Spacedep man on the back. “Now, that admission has made my day, Admiral!”
“You may be sure, Reeve, that I never intended that,” Barnstable said, eyeing Todd warily.
/> “Oh, I’m sure.” Todd laughed. “Well done, Grizz,” he called.
The Gringg, clutching her cub and mate close to her massive chest, beamed at him, showing all her fangs.
“Isn’t anyone going to congratulate me?” Jilamey called, rising to his feet from the dust. “I’m going to pass my Coming of Age Ritual at last!” He held up not one, but three snake bags, tightly tied and wriggling.
“You young fool,” Boncyk said with a groan, bowing over his saddlehorn in despair. “You’ve flattened half my new olive trees!”
* * *
A beaming Hu Shih took his place of honor on the dais at the Snake Hunt feast that evening in the Assembly Hall. His wife Phyllis, tiny and exquisite, sat beside him in a Hrruban robe of red tissue silk spangled with gems. The presentations for successful Hunters had taken place, with a special round of applause for Jilamey Landreau and his bag of three. But the roar of approval when Grizz was given her medal was deafening.
Then the servers began distributing the dishes which had been tantalizing everyone with their aromas. Jilamey sat at the Reeve family table in the front row below the dais, proudly showing off his Coming of Age medal with its four wiggly ribbons.
Hu tapped his water glass with the side of his fork, and waited for silence.
“Thank you, friends,” he said, beaming. “I’ve been asked to say a few words. This is a triple celebration. Today we celebrate yet another successful Snake Hunt, a festival I have always enjoyed, as it marks the climax of New Home Week, the very first of the traditional Rraladoonan festivals. Rraladoon—the name has passed through many changes over the years: Doona, Rrala, Doonarrala, Rraladoona. It is really time we settled on one designation to be used by everyone. Rraladoon demonstrates our unity as one people, despite our different biologies. ‘Wee be of one people, thou and I,’ as an ancient poet once said—now and forever.
Treaty at Doona Page 42