'Too' Close Encounters with Mozambique Spitting Cobras

When I first lived in Zimbabwe, I was given an old farmhouse which the first Europeans had built back in the times when there were vast herds of game wandering across the plains of Africa.  It was a beautiful five bedroom house, built out of teak, but had not been lived in for ages.  I was not too concerned by this as it was four walls, (well more than four with all those rooms), and a roof over my head.  With the house came an enormous garden that was over run, a large kitchen with a wood burner, the use of the swimming pool in the compound and  a very large game fence to protect us from wildlife.  Or maybe it was the other way around?

What I had not banked on was the wildlife inside the compound.  As I moved into my new house, Derek, the land owner, asked me how I was with snakes.  I was not too sure whether this was a trick question or not, I mean, I have not handled that many snakes but they do not give me the heebie jeebies if that was what Derek was asking.  He promptly gave me a shotgun and told me to keep it under my bed - Mozambique Spitting Cobras had a penchants for this particular house and I was advised to shoot from the hip.  I was told that if I shot from the shoulder I would probably dislocate it.  I was left holding a shotgun with my mouth wide open.  I did not sleep well that night, even with that loaded gun under the bed.  No wonder the house was empty...or was it?

That was my first experience of not seeing a cobra.

My second experience was that I was far too close for the state of my own health.  I was staying with a friend of mine called Karen Paolillo, who has single handedly saved a pod of hippo in the Turgwe River and in my mind is the Jane Goodall of hippos.  She, and her husband Jean, have built a wonderful house over looking the Turgwe River in Save Valley Conservancy.  One night, myself and Karen were at the house by ourselves.  Karen was busy feeding the menagerie of animals that regularly came to her place to be fed during the drought, all completely wild, but the trust that she had gained from these animals was amazing.  There was 'Arthur' the extraordinarily large warthog, contentedly feeding at the back door along with a few vervet monkeys, 'Jenny' genet (not named after me I hasten to add), a few baboons and her pet cats and goats. 

I needed the loo and walked out of the front door to go to her long drop and to avoid disturbing 'Arthur'.  My sixth sense kicked into gear.  I have no idea why I looked back over my shoulder as I was passing through the door, but I did, and there, standing at full striking height, and at eye level, was a Mozambique Spitting Cobra.  Its hood was fully inflated and it could have nailed my eyes with a shot of accurately spat venom.  The chances of not been blinded were against me.  There then followed a comedy moment as I reversed direction in mid air, slammed the door shut behind me and then let my knees buckle as I sat on the floor to recover.  Once I had gained composure I calmly told Karen that I was going to wee in her bath.

Now that was too close for comfort!