Flood at Courteau Holmes LA Pythons
Big dark stalled right over the town. Centimeters fell in a few moments as the vault we call the sky opened. Water rose, even the high ground had an alginate sheen. Father Lafitte's floating church and boat village was doing fine, satellite showed less than 1 cm mooring drift. Another hour, maybe less, water will start topping the levee, but the raft would simply rise to the occasion. Tempests have taken many boats, but when a storm hovers, not moving, dumping water, it doesn't stress the anchor system, it is all tied tight, boat bondage at its best.
There was a quiet, unspoken sadness with the good people of Catahoula for not all those beyond the levee that would last the night. Hearty souls, bayou born and raised, but everything is changing; face the increasing threat, night hunters. Though, they too are part of the food chain, though the heavy metal complicates things.
Dr. Frkamus, the SME that tracked the great shift after they all but ravaged Southern Florida, found that the Burmese Pythons arriving in the bayou contain high levels of mercury, levels unheard of for a living creature. He said, “For some reason, the pythons that are coming out of here, they have mercury concentrations higher than mine waste, they’ve never found anything that has this high of mercury levels that’s still alive. It is amazing.”
Scene changes to a fishing boat out past the levee, only a couple hours of rainlight left. They're alive all right, mad as hatters, closest thing to a zombie the world has seen yet, Captain Chesba, was preparing to moor for the night in Coteau Holmes, said, mostly to himself.
When the water gets high enough during the night, the anti-snake coverings on the poles holding the stick buildings out of the water won't stop them. They were effective 5 years ago, but the water keeps rising, don't you miss the good ol days when Louisiana was only losing a football field an hour?
BEGIN TEXTBOX:
Wikipedia: Football is a family of team sports that involve, to varying degrees, kicking a ball with a foot to score a goal. Unqualified, the word football is understood to refer to whichever form of football is the most popular in the regional context in which the word appears. Sports commonly called football in certain places include association football (known as soccer in some countries); gridiron football (specifically American football or Canadian football); Australian rules football; rugby football (either rugby league or rugby union); and Gaelic football.[1][2] These different variations of football are known as football codes.
END TEXTBOX.
Chesba wished they could have made it back, but all the fishing grounds within 100 km of Waterford 3 tended to glow in the dark. After a week at sea, a shower and a head, 3 squares sounded almost like hedonism's first offer. If only we could have made it back, but with a flood you can't see through the water, and anything from washed out houses, cars, trees, and dead animals could be in the channels you do know. Pick your way through, lookouts on the bow. Had to tie up, stuck in the middle with them. Worse? Worse is, having to anchor; seal the boat, pesky vipers have learned to block the vents, make you open up for air, snatch you while you are gulping. Can't stay on the boat.
Father Lafitte, sitting in the conference room meeting, waited patiently. He never tired of the room, a board to board reconstruction of the now inundated original church site. "If only we could have saved more," reflected the reverend; the water rise was faster than anyone predicted.
Auxiliary Bishop Motu opened the meeting. We are going to cease operations in Terrebonne. We'd already stopped harvesting bottom feeders, but we are finding radioactivity in everything now, Year over year we are going to be down 10% in seafood. We have to go farther and farther to avoid hot waste and the commute is killing us. Were Ok for ... he stopped, interrupted, as they received The Chene's text.
Start TEXT: Full load flash frozen oysters got trapped by the rising waters. No way for them to go any further till morning. Moored at DicChix.
End TEXT.
Everyone involved with the message looked grim, Courteau Holmes was badland, nothing but Burmese pythons and alligators; nary a bird or rodent left. Spending the night outside of the snakewall was often fatal, but this crew did have one advantage.
If you are gonna crew a fishing boat in Lostiana, as the locals put it, you would be thankful to get picked for Chesba's boat, the Chene. Captain was a local boy, grew up and explored this area, before the ocean swallowed over 1/2 the land, before the snakes made their way West from Florida. Growing up as they started arriving, he used his bayou skills to earn pocket money for the snakes. $100 plus an exponential size bonus. He sold the carcasses to a protein plant, they filtered out the mercury to create: Python Protein Powder, you've probably made a smoothie with some yourself.
Webo, suit up, you come with me, we'd best catch a few before dark, Chesba said, sticking the underbrush with a fresh cut pole. Find their home when they are asleep, cut em up to feed the the first gators and snakes to show up. They will have sneak away to digest, or the hungry ones will engage them. If we can get 3 big ones, that will buy us an hour, maybe more. Webo nodded and zipped up his bayoualls.
As they walked some of the highest ground was uncovered by water, it was neap tide, so pretty close to high, already over half way up the snake guards.
Webo asked, Chesba, you got that big gun, why you always use the knife?
With a knife Webo, Chesba answered, you never have to think about your last bullet. So I use the knife. Say! Ha da, there one. Chesba pulled the reptile from its lair. 10m, he said, good start, chop! Cut the head with his brush knife, one chop, amorphous steel, princely blade. Webo, cut this one into 5, 6 pieces then come follow me, oh and you might want to keep the stomach section intact; chuckles. And don't get near a tree Webo, you hear me. That's how you get caught. They coil and wait and it is harder to see them than you would guess, this is where all the spotting practice comes to use.
After speaking, Chesba moved on, long night ahead, hopefully, they could get back to Catahoula tomorrow, but that required surviving the night.
No more time for hunting. We need to clear the building of reptiles we are bunking in for the night, he said to the crew, last light's at 20:44. Webo will be back in a bit. They moved in like the team they were trained to be while Chesba rested and drank some water. After the structure was cleared he lay down to sleep. If he could get even an hour of rest before the nocturnal serpents started to move, it was a huge win.
Time for final instructions for the crew. Watch for patterns forming. We'll have the lights on wide beam dispersion so you can see them in the water. Remember, after we use them the first time, night vision's gone. Even so, use em when you need em. Look for the pattern that looks like we're surrounded, because we will be. It's a behavior that was documented in Cuban Boas. Coordinated hunting does not mean they are working together exactly. It means they take other snakes position in respect to potential prey in mind when joining in the search for food.
Scientists are hesitant to say they are intelligent, but we do know they take both the position of other snakes and the probable entry/exit of prey in choosing their approach to hunting.
Gaaag, tree, help, guys, help they've. . . Webo was in trouble! Chesba made a beeline for the origin of the call, Nutcase the fastest of them all and the other gunner right on his heels. Too late! He musta got too close to a tree where a snake was coiled. 2 pythons had Webo wrapped, one on the head, one on the body, both anchored by biting a tree. Just as they got within 20m the head popped free, blood spurting to the sky. Webo was dead, but the Burmese swarm wasn't close to done, 4 more crawled up, in short work Webo was drawn and quartered. How did they do that Chesba wondered, they're snakes. It would require teamwork, more than just an ideal position hunting. He was quick to take pictures with Q phone, a model 1 with the camera upgrade. Scientists would need to see to believe. Nut had drawn a S&W .357 stainless, 8" barrel, antique. 1 shot, 1 Burma that popped Webo's head blown to bits.
2 more, if you can, said Chesba, give them plenty to eat and save the ammo for darker. 2 more shots, 2 less snakes. Capn shook his head, .357, he hadn't seen one since he was a kid. Ammo must be dear. His brain was racing, all done they had left food on the ground for about 20 snakes. Once a python, even a big one, chunked down 20 or more kilos, they were done for the night, off for the delightful prospect of a long digestion, 5 or 6 days in the hole. 20, there were more than that within a night's slither by far.
Chesba could see how this was going to go. The snakes already here would feed and withdraw. There would be food for the first few to arrive, that would buy a bit of time. But when the snakes that scored started their chymify, a distinctive oder would filter through the swamp; a scent that shouted, I just hit paydirt in the foodchain game. More often than not, serpents on the nocturnal hunt would slide over, never know, might be a lost herd of deer. When they arrived on the scene, the smell of blood would spin up their retile brains stoking a serious hunger. As the journey of night crawled on, more frustrated would be diners show up; the pressure builds. Crew had retrieved Webo's bush knife, under cover from Nut to give to his widow; Webo didn't have a gun, wouldn't have made a difference, got him from the back.
Back to the mooring. The Chene was sealed up tight. Nothing could get in, that includes breathing air, so the crew was out for the night; freezers had enough juice for the precious cargo, at least for the night. True to the time honored tradition, every sailor had a duffle bag; sleeping gear, clothes, a few keepsakes, and a bush knife, be keeping that close tonight. The last light of the sun was gone. It was their turn, their time, their turf. Long night. Nobody, was of a mind to sleep, relaxation seemed impossible, but any energy they could save right now, would pay off.
Of course, there is always one, Bandman, was soft snoring, crashed out hard; he was the fish scout, always knew where to drop the nets, how to set, the bed our oyster cargo came from was new to all of us, not on a Catahoula chart; he just knew.
Engine mate Bougalee was next to him, she was outnumbered 7 to 1, well, 6 to 1 now that Webo defan; he was a good mate. She came by her name, "Sweetie surprise", honestly; raped at 5, Bougalee had removed essential equipment from men acting inappropriately then and several times since. Father Lafitte granted a hall pass on the last one, he wasn't big on having his parishoner's butchered, but video clearly showed the guy sinking to a new low. Crew gave her space. Good with the powerplant; small enough to climb into all Chene's crannies. One hand pushups and pull ups helped her keep her girlish figure.
Nutcase's black self was blending into the darkness, eating a small pack of Chee Wees, peering into the silence, mais I can see em, the shooter thought to himself. Chesba had the other pistol, M1911, also from the distant past. The mind plays tricks on you in the dangerous dark, you think you see, but you don't, waste a bullet. No man. Never pull till you see the eye caps clearly.
Chesba was strategizing with Papere, the helmsman, about the 2 flood lights. There was enough battery to run them all night; problem is everything in the swamp would see them that way. With short flashes, 1, 2 seconds, their ancient brains processed it as lightning; move on, these aren't the flashes you are looking for. The animals in close though, different story, 24k lumens, direct look at the light would put them down to their pit sensor searching for heat and thank goodness, it was a warm night, lots of heat noise.
What goes around, light is the enemy of night vision, a real scotopic party pooper. The two shooters would try to never look at the lights, try to keep their backs to them, crew can do the spotting. They both had 1k lumen black light headlamps; makes snake eyes shout boogie, perfect pattern for a python head shot. Between them they had 36 bullets, the thousand rounds of ammo train left the station generations ago. Every kill though, was enough meat for 5 or 6 of the others who would leave the hunt for the sure thing. Cannibalism was a refined art for all of the apex predators in the bayou. Meat is meat.
Possede signaled from the directional microphone. You think snakes are silent? Nothing 6 - 8 meters and covered in scales is silent, trick is being able to hear them. The mooring shelter was a pole building, no connection to land. So instead of listening for the scales, a dead giveaway on land used by python bounty hunters on land, Possede was listening for the swish of water. Whatever he had was coming fast enough there was measurable doppler.
Buck a roo, muttered Chesba, a snake that wasn't interested in the food on the ground, it was hunting, wanted a kill. Hit the pole house, water was above the snake guard, straight up the pole to Bougalee's short spear. Nutcase, the boat's gaffer, snagged it 2/3 of the way down, they hauled it up as high as the porchrail, Chesba cut off the top third, Bougalee let it slide off the spear into the dark water, still for now, not for long. Chopped the lower part off, taking care to leave the digestive engine intact; mercury vapor wouldn't help their cause.
Bougalee was pumping, calm down girl. Not the best way to spend the night, yoga breathe, mindfully will the adrenalin to stop, stay in control, get past the shakes0[. Right after a kill is when the mistakes happen. We would try to avoid friendly fire, falling overboard, and other common life shortening mistakes in this kind of situation. Make em work for it.
Over to the east, you could just make out the unmistakable signature of a bull alligator, python fight. The two reptiles were fairly evenly matched, both species young was a food source for the other, but animals 3 years or older were pretty experienced fighters. Don't focus on the show, Chesba thought to himself. Be mindful and we may just get out of this alive. Moonrise was at 1:48, they would be able to see it, swamp fire cleared the vegetation to the East; waning, any light helps us.
Wake! Chesba had dozed, 2:15. He looked at Possede who gave him the hunt sign. Coordinated attack, no way to know how many, the acoustic array was portable, light, durable, but had its limitations; more than 1 though. All hands on deck, not the crew's first rodeo. The formation was filling in around them, easy dozen. One would break out shortly and attack. Save the guns for the blitz, multiple incoming boogies, it would happen soon enough. Sure enough, another buck a roo made its approach. Up the structural pole and into Bougalee's spear, she snapped her torso around, drawing power from her hips and sharp edged the point right through the neck. Snake fell into the water, it would be removed from the pattern shortly.
You going to take point on all of them chuckled Bandman, who, curse him, looked pretty rested from his nap. The spear was an advantage, several of the crew wished they had packed one, the extra meter from the snake was appealing. Python bites are not poison in the traditional sense, but they have very sharp, curved teeth. If you get hit, it can be hard to remove the animal while still living. And the mercury. You might live, but you will have heavy metal poisoning if you get bit.
In the back of the formation Shakira, the oldest python in the area, migrant from Florida, watched. These humans were not weak, or unaware, like most. This hunt would come at a high cost. The strong instinct was to move on to another target, the water was high, they had much more range than usual. But, another instinct was present. Several of the bucks in the formation were coming into their prime, big and strong and they might just challenge Shakira. It would be fun to watch.
In the front several Burmese were getting their buck a roo on; almost. If one snake started they would almost certainly follow and in a couple minutes that is exactly what happened. Chesba sensed it, didn't need the acoustic array, lights he called. He and Nutcase turned away. Clear, called Papere. The shooters crossed the deck to the rail where the light had flashed. The snakes were stunned. They each took a head shot, 34 bullets remaining.
Should I take another, asked Nutcase. Chesba nodded no, save the ammo. It will take several snakes to haul these away, some will wisely prefer ready to eat food. With luck, it shrinks the formation.
What's the big deal on the formation, asked Bougalee? It's the step before checkmate, the capn said matter of factly. It's what they have to do before they can blitz, attack us with more snakes than defenders; that's when we tend to suffer casualties. Or even lose outright, Bougalee finished.
Yeah that, said the leader. So, now we use the microphone array, the lights, these head lamps and try to keep making them reform. With luck a few more will try to buck up. We can handle the lone rangers easily, small groups like we almost had as well. Every time they try and fail, it disrupts their formation. It's 0241, if we can hold on till 0541, first light, the odds start moving more in our favor.
Shakira, lurking in the distance was thinking almost the same thing, albeit in python terms and values.
Sure enough, a lone snake made a run at 0307, intercepted by Papere. Things seemed to be going well, but Chesba was tense. The best hunters, they say, know how their prey thinks, if thinking, exactly is what they do. What many of them say is, "I felt his instinct would be to" and that allowed me to preempt them. Chesba, had felt this sense of dread before, that snake hunting was not as simple as some said. He felt there was a presence in the water that was, somehow different than the other serpents. Where are you, he thought? What are you, he wondered. Why are you here... no need to ask that, the Chene crew buffet was open for business.
The formation was building again, Chesba sensed it, everyone sensed it. Nutcase had a sudden sense that he needed to go to the bathroom, right then, real bad. Lights Chesba called. He and Nutcase turned away; but they were a second too late, the snakes had already started and several were below the beam of the light, others underwater. They are on the poles, Bougalee called. Leave the lights on Chesba directed. This would cost him and Nutcase their night vision for 20 minutes, but their best chance to be there in 20 minutes. Bushknives, called Chesba, directing Nutcase to start the fight holstered. Guns in closeup mode, clear shots only. Man had fought python for over 40 years, one lesson is that a gun was just as effective on a fellow crew person as a snake.
Each took on a snake, even Papere, who in his early 70s, still wielded a mean bushknife, but he couldn't see behind him, backed up too close to one of the structural poles when he was struck. Snake coiled on the pole got him in the shoulder and was pulling him towards the pole, towards the water. Bougalee saw it, yanked her spear from her snake, stuck the one with Papere to the pole, so he couldn't climb anymore, pulled her bushknife, dispatched her first snake turned back and Papere was gone. Perhaps, even worse, so was the spear. The crew used paddles, poles, mops, anything to shove the snake parts off the deck, staying away, to the extent possible, from the poisonous blood.
Possede resumed his station on the mike. Negative doppler, they are moving away. Nutcracker gave out a whoop which died when he saw Chesba's face. Somehow the old snake hunter had found Shakira's wavelength, he knew what his instinct was. They are coming again he said. This time it will be two waves. While we are engaged in the first, the second will come. We need to change up tactics. Nutcase, let's count, we need to be sure. 27 bullets left, but only seven of them were .357.
Use the odd bullet to disrupt the formation. It will take them some time to be ready, just be 100% certain you have the shot. Then holster that six shooter till they come. Clean shots, be certain, empty the gun, holster it again, go to knife. I'm going to wait till the second wave.
How do you know that is how it will go down asked Nutcase? We could both shoot and stop the first wave cold. Just sayin.
It's what we always do, Chesba could hear himself speaking the words, but he was in another place at the same time. It's what we always do and there is a snake out there old enough, wise enough, to know that. This bullet, he said, holding one up, is for him. I'll be up with Possede trying to ferret him out before the attack. If we survive the second wave rally to me with the mike and lights and we will try to take him out; with his brain intact if possible.
Yoga breathe, in, out, the formation was returning. Chesba up with the mike. Staring with his black light. He would be close, but not too close he reasoned. Where are you? They formed faster than anyone had ever seen. No watching and waiting, they knew what they wanted to do. As directed, Nutcase chose a large one, hit it right between the eyes. Another slithered in to take its place. None of the snakes left the formation to retrieve the body, then they came, the blitz. Everyone fought valiently, Chesba stayed by the array, looking for his adversary, but he still had plenty of action, dispatching two snakes. Nutcase did as ordered, 6 clear shots, holstered, went to knife.
The second wave was already in motion, Chesba found a target, fired, again, again. Somehow the crew was surviving. Blood and snake was everywhere. Last clip was empty. Chesba reached in his pocket for the last bullet, chambered. Sensing, where was that snake? Looked up, a snake had come up, grabbed Bougalee, then started working back down. Her knife was on the ground, strong as she was, no match. Python was in no hurry, he wanted to observe these resistant humans, find his match among the crew. Chesba walked forward, gun up, didn't have a clear shot. Angled around, staring at Shakira who was stone still, other than Bougalee thrashing up and down. They each watched each other, intrigued. Chesba circled to the left looking for an angle. The snake was fixated on the gun, if he could deploy his knife. He moved with all his speed, dropped the gun, hit Shakira with a mortal blow below the head with his liquid steel knife severing it, it was enough to free Bougalee. But Chesba had moved too close to the structural poles. Two pythons coiled there took him. For no obvious reason the attackers retreated. It was still 40 minutes to first light.
9 hours later, the Chene, under the command of Captain Nutcase made it back to Catahoula with a cargo of flash frozen oysters and a flash frozen snake brain to boot. They went out two days later with 3 other boats just to harvest snakes to sell to Python Protein Power. Never again would the land within 100 kilometers of the church be left to the snakes and alligators.
A wood worker made a small wooden box for Father Lafitte's office. Chesba's last bullet stands there to this day.
There was a quiet, unspoken sadness with the good people of Catahoula for not all those beyond the levee that would last the night. Hearty souls, bayou born and raised, but everything is changing; face the increasing threat, night hunters. Though, they too are part of the food chain, though the heavy metal complicates things.
Dr. Frkamus, the SME that tracked the great shift after they all but ravaged Southern Florida, found that the Burmese Pythons arriving in the bayou contain high levels of mercury, levels unheard of for a living creature. He said, “For some reason, the pythons that are coming out of here, they have mercury concentrations higher than mine waste, they’ve never found anything that has this high of mercury levels that’s still alive. It is amazing.”
Scene changes to a fishing boat out past the levee, only a couple hours of rainlight left. They're alive all right, mad as hatters, closest thing to a zombie the world has seen yet, Captain Chesba, was preparing to moor for the night in Coteau Holmes, said, mostly to himself.
When the water gets high enough during the night, the anti-snake coverings on the poles holding the stick buildings out of the water won't stop them. They were effective 5 years ago, but the water keeps rising, don't you miss the good ol days when Louisiana was only losing a football field an hour?
BEGIN TEXTBOX:
Wikipedia: Football is a family of team sports that involve, to varying degrees, kicking a ball with a foot to score a goal. Unqualified, the word football is understood to refer to whichever form of football is the most popular in the regional context in which the word appears. Sports commonly called football in certain places include association football (known as soccer in some countries); gridiron football (specifically American football or Canadian football); Australian rules football; rugby football (either rugby league or rugby union); and Gaelic football.[1][2] These different variations of football are known as football codes.
END TEXTBOX.
Chesba wished they could have made it back, but all the fishing grounds within 100 km of Waterford 3 tended to glow in the dark. After a week at sea, a shower and a head, 3 squares sounded almost like hedonism's first offer. If only we could have made it back, but with a flood you can't see through the water, and anything from washed out houses, cars, trees, and dead animals could be in the channels you do know. Pick your way through, lookouts on the bow. Had to tie up, stuck in the middle with them. Worse? Worse is, having to anchor; seal the boat, pesky vipers have learned to block the vents, make you open up for air, snatch you while you are gulping. Can't stay on the boat.
Father Lafitte, sitting in the conference room meeting, waited patiently. He never tired of the room, a board to board reconstruction of the now inundated original church site. "If only we could have saved more," reflected the reverend; the water rise was faster than anyone predicted.
Auxiliary Bishop Motu opened the meeting. We are going to cease operations in Terrebonne. We'd already stopped harvesting bottom feeders, but we are finding radioactivity in everything now, Year over year we are going to be down 10% in seafood. We have to go farther and farther to avoid hot waste and the commute is killing us. Were Ok for ... he stopped, interrupted, as they received The Chene's text.
Start TEXT: Full load flash frozen oysters got trapped by the rising waters. No way for them to go any further till morning. Moored at DicChix.
End TEXT.
Everyone involved with the message looked grim, Courteau Holmes was badland, nothing but Burmese pythons and alligators; nary a bird or rodent left. Spending the night outside of the snakewall was often fatal, but this crew did have one advantage.
If you are gonna crew a fishing boat in Lostiana, as the locals put it, you would be thankful to get picked for Chesba's boat, the Chene. Captain was a local boy, grew up and explored this area, before the ocean swallowed over 1/2 the land, before the snakes made their way West from Florida. Growing up as they started arriving, he used his bayou skills to earn pocket money for the snakes. $100 plus an exponential size bonus. He sold the carcasses to a protein plant, they filtered out the mercury to create: Python Protein Powder, you've probably made a smoothie with some yourself.
Webo, suit up, you come with me, we'd best catch a few before dark, Chesba said, sticking the underbrush with a fresh cut pole. Find their home when they are asleep, cut em up to feed the the first gators and snakes to show up. They will have sneak away to digest, or the hungry ones will engage them. If we can get 3 big ones, that will buy us an hour, maybe more. Webo nodded and zipped up his bayoualls.
As they walked some of the highest ground was uncovered by water, it was neap tide, so pretty close to high, already over half way up the snake guards.
Webo asked, Chesba, you got that big gun, why you always use the knife?
With a knife Webo, Chesba answered, you never have to think about your last bullet. So I use the knife. Say! Ha da, there one. Chesba pulled the reptile from its lair. 10m, he said, good start, chop! Cut the head with his brush knife, one chop, amorphous steel, princely blade. Webo, cut this one into 5, 6 pieces then come follow me, oh and you might want to keep the stomach section intact; chuckles. And don't get near a tree Webo, you hear me. That's how you get caught. They coil and wait and it is harder to see them than you would guess, this is where all the spotting practice comes to use.
After speaking, Chesba moved on, long night ahead, hopefully, they could get back to Catahoula tomorrow, but that required surviving the night.
No more time for hunting. We need to clear the building of reptiles we are bunking in for the night, he said to the crew, last light's at 20:44. Webo will be back in a bit. They moved in like the team they were trained to be while Chesba rested and drank some water. After the structure was cleared he lay down to sleep. If he could get even an hour of rest before the nocturnal serpents started to move, it was a huge win.
Time for final instructions for the crew. Watch for patterns forming. We'll have the lights on wide beam dispersion so you can see them in the water. Remember, after we use them the first time, night vision's gone. Even so, use em when you need em. Look for the pattern that looks like we're surrounded, because we will be. It's a behavior that was documented in Cuban Boas. Coordinated hunting does not mean they are working together exactly. It means they take other snakes position in respect to potential prey in mind when joining in the search for food.
Scientists are hesitant to say they are intelligent, but we do know they take both the position of other snakes and the probable entry/exit of prey in choosing their approach to hunting.
Gaaag, tree, help, guys, help they've. . . Webo was in trouble! Chesba made a beeline for the origin of the call, Nutcase the fastest of them all and the other gunner right on his heels. Too late! He musta got too close to a tree where a snake was coiled. 2 pythons had Webo wrapped, one on the head, one on the body, both anchored by biting a tree. Just as they got within 20m the head popped free, blood spurting to the sky. Webo was dead, but the Burmese swarm wasn't close to done, 4 more crawled up, in short work Webo was drawn and quartered. How did they do that Chesba wondered, they're snakes. It would require teamwork, more than just an ideal position hunting. He was quick to take pictures with Q phone, a model 1 with the camera upgrade. Scientists would need to see to believe. Nut had drawn a S&W .357 stainless, 8" barrel, antique. 1 shot, 1 Burma that popped Webo's head blown to bits.
2 more, if you can, said Chesba, give them plenty to eat and save the ammo for darker. 2 more shots, 2 less snakes. Capn shook his head, .357, he hadn't seen one since he was a kid. Ammo must be dear. His brain was racing, all done they had left food on the ground for about 20 snakes. Once a python, even a big one, chunked down 20 or more kilos, they were done for the night, off for the delightful prospect of a long digestion, 5 or 6 days in the hole. 20, there were more than that within a night's slither by far.
Chesba could see how this was going to go. The snakes already here would feed and withdraw. There would be food for the first few to arrive, that would buy a bit of time. But when the snakes that scored started their chymify, a distinctive oder would filter through the swamp; a scent that shouted, I just hit paydirt in the foodchain game. More often than not, serpents on the nocturnal hunt would slide over, never know, might be a lost herd of deer. When they arrived on the scene, the smell of blood would spin up their retile brains stoking a serious hunger. As the journey of night crawled on, more frustrated would be diners show up; the pressure builds. Crew had retrieved Webo's bush knife, under cover from Nut to give to his widow; Webo didn't have a gun, wouldn't have made a difference, got him from the back.
Back to the mooring. The Chene was sealed up tight. Nothing could get in, that includes breathing air, so the crew was out for the night; freezers had enough juice for the precious cargo, at least for the night. True to the time honored tradition, every sailor had a duffle bag; sleeping gear, clothes, a few keepsakes, and a bush knife, be keeping that close tonight. The last light of the sun was gone. It was their turn, their time, their turf. Long night. Nobody, was of a mind to sleep, relaxation seemed impossible, but any energy they could save right now, would pay off.
Of course, there is always one, Bandman, was soft snoring, crashed out hard; he was the fish scout, always knew where to drop the nets, how to set, the bed our oyster cargo came from was new to all of us, not on a Catahoula chart; he just knew.
Engine mate Bougalee was next to him, she was outnumbered 7 to 1, well, 6 to 1 now that Webo defan; he was a good mate. She came by her name, "Sweetie surprise", honestly; raped at 5, Bougalee had removed essential equipment from men acting inappropriately then and several times since. Father Lafitte granted a hall pass on the last one, he wasn't big on having his parishoner's butchered, but video clearly showed the guy sinking to a new low. Crew gave her space. Good with the powerplant; small enough to climb into all Chene's crannies. One hand pushups and pull ups helped her keep her girlish figure.
Nutcase's black self was blending into the darkness, eating a small pack of Chee Wees, peering into the silence, mais I can see em, the shooter thought to himself. Chesba had the other pistol, M1911, also from the distant past. The mind plays tricks on you in the dangerous dark, you think you see, but you don't, waste a bullet. No man. Never pull till you see the eye caps clearly.
Chesba was strategizing with Papere, the helmsman, about the 2 flood lights. There was enough battery to run them all night; problem is everything in the swamp would see them that way. With short flashes, 1, 2 seconds, their ancient brains processed it as lightning; move on, these aren't the flashes you are looking for. The animals in close though, different story, 24k lumens, direct look at the light would put them down to their pit sensor searching for heat and thank goodness, it was a warm night, lots of heat noise.
What goes around, light is the enemy of night vision, a real scotopic party pooper. The two shooters would try to never look at the lights, try to keep their backs to them, crew can do the spotting. They both had 1k lumen black light headlamps; makes snake eyes shout boogie, perfect pattern for a python head shot. Between them they had 36 bullets, the thousand rounds of ammo train left the station generations ago. Every kill though, was enough meat for 5 or 6 of the others who would leave the hunt for the sure thing. Cannibalism was a refined art for all of the apex predators in the bayou. Meat is meat.
Possede signaled from the directional microphone. You think snakes are silent? Nothing 6 - 8 meters and covered in scales is silent, trick is being able to hear them. The mooring shelter was a pole building, no connection to land. So instead of listening for the scales, a dead giveaway on land used by python bounty hunters on land, Possede was listening for the swish of water. Whatever he had was coming fast enough there was measurable doppler.
Buck a roo, muttered Chesba, a snake that wasn't interested in the food on the ground, it was hunting, wanted a kill. Hit the pole house, water was above the snake guard, straight up the pole to Bougalee's short spear. Nutcase, the boat's gaffer, snagged it 2/3 of the way down, they hauled it up as high as the porchrail, Chesba cut off the top third, Bougalee let it slide off the spear into the dark water, still for now, not for long. Chopped the lower part off, taking care to leave the digestive engine intact; mercury vapor wouldn't help their cause.
Bougalee was pumping, calm down girl. Not the best way to spend the night, yoga breathe, mindfully will the adrenalin to stop, stay in control, get past the shakes0[. Right after a kill is when the mistakes happen. We would try to avoid friendly fire, falling overboard, and other common life shortening mistakes in this kind of situation. Make em work for it.
Over to the east, you could just make out the unmistakable signature of a bull alligator, python fight. The two reptiles were fairly evenly matched, both species young was a food source for the other, but animals 3 years or older were pretty experienced fighters. Don't focus on the show, Chesba thought to himself. Be mindful and we may just get out of this alive. Moonrise was at 1:48, they would be able to see it, swamp fire cleared the vegetation to the East; waning, any light helps us.
Wake! Chesba had dozed, 2:15. He looked at Possede who gave him the hunt sign. Coordinated attack, no way to know how many, the acoustic array was portable, light, durable, but had its limitations; more than 1 though. All hands on deck, not the crew's first rodeo. The formation was filling in around them, easy dozen. One would break out shortly and attack. Save the guns for the blitz, multiple incoming boogies, it would happen soon enough. Sure enough, another buck a roo made its approach. Up the structural pole and into Bougalee's spear, she snapped her torso around, drawing power from her hips and sharp edged the point right through the neck. Snake fell into the water, it would be removed from the pattern shortly.
You going to take point on all of them chuckled Bandman, who, curse him, looked pretty rested from his nap. The spear was an advantage, several of the crew wished they had packed one, the extra meter from the snake was appealing. Python bites are not poison in the traditional sense, but they have very sharp, curved teeth. If you get hit, it can be hard to remove the animal while still living. And the mercury. You might live, but you will have heavy metal poisoning if you get bit.
In the back of the formation Shakira, the oldest python in the area, migrant from Florida, watched. These humans were not weak, or unaware, like most. This hunt would come at a high cost. The strong instinct was to move on to another target, the water was high, they had much more range than usual. But, another instinct was present. Several of the bucks in the formation were coming into their prime, big and strong and they might just challenge Shakira. It would be fun to watch.
In the front several Burmese were getting their buck a roo on; almost. If one snake started they would almost certainly follow and in a couple minutes that is exactly what happened. Chesba sensed it, didn't need the acoustic array, lights he called. He and Nutcase turned away. Clear, called Papere. The shooters crossed the deck to the rail where the light had flashed. The snakes were stunned. They each took a head shot, 34 bullets remaining.
Should I take another, asked Nutcase. Chesba nodded no, save the ammo. It will take several snakes to haul these away, some will wisely prefer ready to eat food. With luck, it shrinks the formation.
What's the big deal on the formation, asked Bougalee? It's the step before checkmate, the capn said matter of factly. It's what they have to do before they can blitz, attack us with more snakes than defenders; that's when we tend to suffer casualties. Or even lose outright, Bougalee finished.
Yeah that, said the leader. So, now we use the microphone array, the lights, these head lamps and try to keep making them reform. With luck a few more will try to buck up. We can handle the lone rangers easily, small groups like we almost had as well. Every time they try and fail, it disrupts their formation. It's 0241, if we can hold on till 0541, first light, the odds start moving more in our favor.
Shakira, lurking in the distance was thinking almost the same thing, albeit in python terms and values.
Sure enough, a lone snake made a run at 0307, intercepted by Papere. Things seemed to be going well, but Chesba was tense. The best hunters, they say, know how their prey thinks, if thinking, exactly is what they do. What many of them say is, "I felt his instinct would be to" and that allowed me to preempt them. Chesba, had felt this sense of dread before, that snake hunting was not as simple as some said. He felt there was a presence in the water that was, somehow different than the other serpents. Where are you, he thought? What are you, he wondered. Why are you here... no need to ask that, the Chene crew buffet was open for business.
The formation was building again, Chesba sensed it, everyone sensed it. Nutcase had a sudden sense that he needed to go to the bathroom, right then, real bad. Lights Chesba called. He and Nutcase turned away; but they were a second too late, the snakes had already started and several were below the beam of the light, others underwater. They are on the poles, Bougalee called. Leave the lights on Chesba directed. This would cost him and Nutcase their night vision for 20 minutes, but their best chance to be there in 20 minutes. Bushknives, called Chesba, directing Nutcase to start the fight holstered. Guns in closeup mode, clear shots only. Man had fought python for over 40 years, one lesson is that a gun was just as effective on a fellow crew person as a snake.
Each took on a snake, even Papere, who in his early 70s, still wielded a mean bushknife, but he couldn't see behind him, backed up too close to one of the structural poles when he was struck. Snake coiled on the pole got him in the shoulder and was pulling him towards the pole, towards the water. Bougalee saw it, yanked her spear from her snake, stuck the one with Papere to the pole, so he couldn't climb anymore, pulled her bushknife, dispatched her first snake turned back and Papere was gone. Perhaps, even worse, so was the spear. The crew used paddles, poles, mops, anything to shove the snake parts off the deck, staying away, to the extent possible, from the poisonous blood.
Possede resumed his station on the mike. Negative doppler, they are moving away. Nutcracker gave out a whoop which died when he saw Chesba's face. Somehow the old snake hunter had found Shakira's wavelength, he knew what his instinct was. They are coming again he said. This time it will be two waves. While we are engaged in the first, the second will come. We need to change up tactics. Nutcase, let's count, we need to be sure. 27 bullets left, but only seven of them were .357.
Use the odd bullet to disrupt the formation. It will take them some time to be ready, just be 100% certain you have the shot. Then holster that six shooter till they come. Clean shots, be certain, empty the gun, holster it again, go to knife. I'm going to wait till the second wave.
How do you know that is how it will go down asked Nutcase? We could both shoot and stop the first wave cold. Just sayin.
It's what we always do, Chesba could hear himself speaking the words, but he was in another place at the same time. It's what we always do and there is a snake out there old enough, wise enough, to know that. This bullet, he said, holding one up, is for him. I'll be up with Possede trying to ferret him out before the attack. If we survive the second wave rally to me with the mike and lights and we will try to take him out; with his brain intact if possible.
Yoga breathe, in, out, the formation was returning. Chesba up with the mike. Staring with his black light. He would be close, but not too close he reasoned. Where are you? They formed faster than anyone had ever seen. No watching and waiting, they knew what they wanted to do. As directed, Nutcase chose a large one, hit it right between the eyes. Another slithered in to take its place. None of the snakes left the formation to retrieve the body, then they came, the blitz. Everyone fought valiently, Chesba stayed by the array, looking for his adversary, but he still had plenty of action, dispatching two snakes. Nutcase did as ordered, 6 clear shots, holstered, went to knife.
The second wave was already in motion, Chesba found a target, fired, again, again. Somehow the crew was surviving. Blood and snake was everywhere. Last clip was empty. Chesba reached in his pocket for the last bullet, chambered. Sensing, where was that snake? Looked up, a snake had come up, grabbed Bougalee, then started working back down. Her knife was on the ground, strong as she was, no match. Python was in no hurry, he wanted to observe these resistant humans, find his match among the crew. Chesba walked forward, gun up, didn't have a clear shot. Angled around, staring at Shakira who was stone still, other than Bougalee thrashing up and down. They each watched each other, intrigued. Chesba circled to the left looking for an angle. The snake was fixated on the gun, if he could deploy his knife. He moved with all his speed, dropped the gun, hit Shakira with a mortal blow below the head with his liquid steel knife severing it, it was enough to free Bougalee. But Chesba had moved too close to the structural poles. Two pythons coiled there took him. For no obvious reason the attackers retreated. It was still 40 minutes to first light.
9 hours later, the Chene, under the command of Captain Nutcase made it back to Catahoula with a cargo of flash frozen oysters and a flash frozen snake brain to boot. They went out two days later with 3 other boats just to harvest snakes to sell to Python Protein Power. Never again would the land within 100 kilometers of the church be left to the snakes and alligators.
A wood worker made a small wooden box for Father Lafitte's office. Chesba's last bullet stands there to this day.
Comments
Post a Comment