Moving in to the Outback

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Written by Angie Johnson-Vanner

austrailiaI saw something unusual the other day. Ten years ago I would have thought I had stumbled into a live-action taping of The Crocodile Hunter, but I’ve acclimated to my home since then.

    I was on a walk, strolling along a suburban street, pushing my children in the pram (stroller). A bare-chested, middle-aged bloke (man), wearing only thongs (flip-flops) and footy (rugby) shorts, was walking across his garden (yard), carrying a pitchfork in one hand and a big ’ol snake (a big ’ol snake) in the other. He walked to the bush (woods) that bordered his property and promptly chucked the snake in, presumably because that was where it had come from. He saw me stopped on the sidewalk staring at him.


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