In short, I work on a farm. It's a research farm, so we're not completely bereft of life's necessities, though some are more challenging to access than they would be if I worked in a 'standard' office environment.
I’m appreciative of the air conditioning, the guy who comes around to water my plants, the glaring white lights, the hi-speed internet access (and an IT section that are reasonably slack at monitoring usage) and the view … but when it comes to the amenities, yes they’re high class, but they’re in a separate building. Most people would call me slack for complaining about such issues; it’s only 52 metres from my desk to the toilet door, which is fine, but much can happen in 52 metres.
For starters, there’s a 20 metre stretch outside, uncovered. It’s almost December; this is the Wet Season; it rains. A lot. All the time. I can’t hold on for the entire duration of a tropical down pour. No one could.
Secondly there are the fauna that dwell in that 20 metre stretch. Remember, this is a research farm, so there are all sorts of creepy crawlies that come and go in testing jars and styrofoam boxes, and they’re not all dead. And they don’t all stay in their designated boxes. And although I’m not necessarily afraid of snakes, spiders and crocodiles (!!!) they shouldn’t really be part of the joy of an early morning wee break.
Three weeks ago I ran to the men’s (it was raining) only to be confronted by the largest Huntsman I’d seen since my previous life as a pigmy in the rainforests of South America, where, obviously, spiders the size of dinner plates are pretty much celebrated family members. This spider was sitting ON the cubicle door, just above the handle. Only one cubicle in the toilet, gotta take a leak and there’s water rushing around everywhere due to the rain, and my bladder is giving me a tough decision; either I empty it, or it empty’s itself. I managed to slowly open the door and shuffle past, successfully, then slammed the door to hopefully knock the spider off, which I did. Job completed, I opened the door to see no spider on the door, no spider on the floor, no spider on the opposing wall, no spider anywhere. To this day, I’ve got no idea where he was catapulted to, but I have a feeling he’ll be back. Did I mention he was no less than 12cm in diameter?
Spiders I can handle (so brave and manly, I am) mainly as I’ve dealt with them on and off most of my life, but snakes are a different proposition. They’re bigger, faster and, well, they’re snakes. Last week, half asleep and in a daze, I was on the path between the office and the toilets when I peered down just in time to see a 1.6 metre Golden Tree Snake lying beneath my left foot, head raised, hissing loudly. I’d love to give you a run down on my reaction, but there wasn’t one. I looked at it, it looked at me, then it slithered off under a bush. Mild heart attack for me. End of story. You’d think. Two days ago we had a repeat (almost step for step) though I saw him earlier this time, and he saw me, and we duly noted each others' presence and I gave him right of way to go about his business. So I'm happy to report that the snake and I seem to have come to a mutual understanding.
There are countless animals housed on the farm for various purposes, mostly research, some recreational. We've often got several hundred head of cattle wandering the grounds, a small flock of sheep, a couple of pigs, one, maybe two horses and several dozen magpie geese bum around the water holes along with the multitude of other bird life in the area. The place is very much alive. At one stage we also had a crocodile housed on site. Reports say it was a decent size too, still young, but close to 3 metres long. The croc was under the care of the bee keeper (we also have bees ... honey for the morning teas, I guess) but SOMEHOW the croc got loose (before my time) and frantic emails were sent and phone calls made, pleading that everyone remain inside, and clam, as the crocodile had escaped and no one had a clue as to where it was, or how long it had been missing for. The emails were sent at 8am, and by 4.21 (knock-off time) the beast had still not been found, though was later located in a storm-water drain some 3kms from the farm, happy as a pig in shit. We still have the bees, but no more crocodiles. Shame really.
