When you ride the same bike track often enough, you stop expecting surprises. But Australian wildlife has a way of reminding you that the track is their home first.
This morning I had two encounters that summed up what riding in Australia is actually like for those of us who grew up around its creatures.
The first was a parrot. I never caught what species it was, because it screamed out of a roadside tree at full volume and clipped me as it passed. If you have never heard an Australian parrot go off at close range, there is no good way to describe it. Imagine something between a smoke alarm and a toddler who has just been told no. That is roughly the sound. I laughed it off and kept pedalling.
The second encounter was less funny in the moment. A brown snake was stretched across the bike path, soaking up the morning warmth. It was at least a metre long, and I was doing around 25 kilometres an hour, so my assessment was not exactly scientific. Most of it was already moving into the grass by the time I reached it. Brown snakes are amongst the most venomous snakes in the world, but in my experience they would rather leave than fight. This one was exceptionally motivated to leave. I was entirely fine with that arrangement.
Wildlife encounters while biking in Australia are not rare events. They are just Tuesday. Kangaroos crossing the path at dawn, echidnas waddling along the verge, galahs erupting from fence posts, the occasional goanna that seems genuinely unbothered by your presence. For those of us who have spent time in country areas, this is simply the background noise of an outdoor life.
The thing that strikes me most is how little interaction actually happens. Riders share kilometres of trail with creatures who have no interest in being noticed. The wildlife is there. You are there. And almost always, you both carry on without incident. It is a mutual agreement that neither party had to sign.
New riders sometimes tense up when they hear about snakes on the path or a swooping magpie in spring. That tension is understandable. But the creatures doing the swooping and the slithering are not looking for a confrontation. They are going about their morning the same as you are.
The practical upside of this is that wildlife encounters biking in Australia are genuinely one of the more interesting parts of getting out early. You see things people sitting in offices will never see. A parrot close enough to hear the wingbeats. A brown snake moving with that particular unhurried efficiency that venomous snakes seem to have. These are not interruptions to a ride. They are the ride.
If you spend enough time on the trails, you stop treating wildlife as a hazard and start treating it as context. The track belongs to all of us, in overlapping and mostly peaceful ways.
I have never had to kill a snake in all my years living around them, and I hope that stays true. The best outcome every time is exactly what happened this morning: it left, I rode on, and we both went about our day.
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