Letter X: On Snakes; And on the Humming-Bird
LETTER X.
ON SNAKES; AND ON THE HUMMING-BIRD.
WHY would you prescribe this task? you know that what we take up ourselves seems always lighter than what is imposed on us by others. You insist on my saying something about our snakes; and, in relating what I know concerning them, were it not for two singularities, the one of which I saw, and the other I received from an eye-witness, I should have but very little to observe. The southern provinces are the countries where nature has formed the greatest variety of alligators, snakes, serpents; and scorpions, from the smallest size, up to the pine barren, the largest species known here. We have but two, whose stings are mortal, which deserve to be mentioned; as for the black one, it is remarkable for nothing but its industry, agility, beauty, and the art of inticing birds by the power of its eyes. I admire it much, and never kill it, though its formidable length and appearance often get the better of the philosophy of some people, particularly Europeans. The most dangerous one is the pilot or copperhead; for the poison of which no remedy has yet been discovered. It bears the first name because it always precedes the rattle-snake; that is, quits its state of torpidity in the spring a week before the other. It bears the second name on account of its head being adorned with many copper-coloured spots. It lurks in rocks near the water, and is extremely active and dangerous. Let man beware of it. I have heard only of one person who was stung by a copperhead in this country. The poor wretch instantly swelled in a most dreadful manner; a multitude of spots of different hues alternately appeared and vanished on different parts of his body; his eyes were filled with madness and rage; he cast them on all present with the most vindictive looks; he thrust out his tongue as the snakes do; he hissed through his teeth with inconceivable strength, and became an object of terror to all by-standers. To the lividness of a corpse he united the desperate force of a maniac. They hardly were able to fasten him, so as to guard themselves from his attacks; when, in the space of two hours, death relieved the poor wretch from his struggles, and the spectators from their apprehensions. The poison of the rattle-snake is not mortal in so short a space, and hence there is more time to procure relief: we are acquainted with several antidotes with which almost every family is provided. They are extremely inactive, and, if not touched, are perfectly inoffensive. I once saw, as I was travelling, a great cliff which was full of them: I handled several, and they appeared to be dead: they were all entwined together, and thus they remain until the return of the sun. I found them out by following the track of some wild hogs which had fed on them, and even the Indians often regale on them. When they find them asleep, they put a small forked stick over their necks, which they keep immovably fixed on the ground, giving the snake a piece of leather to bite; and this they pull back several times with great force, until they observe their two poisonous fangs torn out. Then they cut off the head, skin the body, and cook it as we do eels, and their flesh is extremely sweet and white. I once saw a tamed one, as gentle as you can possibly conceive a reptile to be: it took to the water and swam whenever it pleased; and, when the boys to whom it belonged called it back, their summons was readily obeyed. It had been deprived of its fangs by the preceding method; they often stroked it with a soft brush, and this friction seemed to cause the most pleasing sensations, for it would turn on its back to enjoy it, as a cat does before the fire. One of this species was a cause, some years ago, of a most deplorable accident, which I shall relate to you, as I had it from the widow and mother of the victims. A Dutch farmer of the Minisink went to mowing, with his negroes, in this boots, a precaution used to prevent being stung. Inadvertently he trod on a snake, which immediately flew at his legs, and, as it drew back in order to renew its blow, one of his negroes cut it in two with his scythe. They prosecuted their work and returned home: at night the farmer pulled off his boots and went to bed, and was soon after attacked with a strange sickness at his stomach; he swelled, and, before a physician could be sent for, died. The sudden death of this man did not cause much inquiry. The neighbourhood wondered, as is usual in such cases, and without any farther examination the corpse was buried. A few days after, the son put on his father’s boots, and went to the meadow: at night he pulled them off, went to bed, and was attacked with the same symptoms, about the same time, and died in the morning. A little before he expired the doctor came, but was not able to assign what could be the cause of so singular a disorder; however, rather than appear wholly at a loss before the country people, he pronounced both father and son to have been bewitched. Some weeks after, the widow sold all the movables for the benefit of the younger children, and the farm was leased. One of the neighbours, who bought the boots, presently put them on, and was attacked in the same manner as the other two had been; but this man’s wife, being alarmed by what had happened in the former family, dispatched one of her negroes for an eminent physician, who, fortunately having heard something of the dreadful affair, guessed at the cause, applied oil, &c. and recovered the man. The boots, which had been so fatal, were then carefully examined; and he found that the two fangs of the snake had been left in the leather, after being wrenched out of their sockets by the strength with which the snake had drawn back its head. The bladders, which contained the poison, and several of the small nerves, were still fresh, and adhered to the boot. The unfortunate father and son had been poisoned by pulling off these boots, in which action they imperceptibly scratched their legs with the points of the fangs, through the hollow of which some of this astonishing poison was conveyed. You have, no doubt, heard of their rattles, if you have not seen them. The only observation I wish to make is, that the rattling is loud and distinct when they are angry; and, on the contrary, when pleased, it sounds like a distant trepidation, in which nothing distinct is heard. In the thick settlements they are now become very scarce; for, wherever they are met with, open war is declared against them, so that, in a few years, there will be none left but on our mountains. The black snake, on the contrary, always diverts me, because it excites no idea of danger. Their swiftness is astonishing; they will sometimes equal that of a horse; at other times they will climb up trees in quest of our tree toads, or glide on the ground at full length. On some occasions, they present themselves half in the reptile state, half erect. Their eyes and their heads, in the erect posture, appear to great advantage: the former display a fire which I have often admired, and it is by these they are enabled to fascinate birds and squirrels. When they have fixed their eyes on an animal, they become immovable, only turning their head sometimes to the right and sometimes to the left, but still with their fight invariably directed to the object. The distracted victim, instead of flying its enemy, seems to be arrested by some invincible power; it screems; now approaches, and then recedes; and, after skipping about the unaccountable agitation, finally rushes into the jaws of the snake, and is swallowed, as soon as it is covered with a slime or glue to make it slide easily down the throat of the devourer.
One anecdote I must relate, the circumstances of which are as true as they are singular. One of my constant walks, when I am at leisure, is in my lowlands, where I have the pleasure of seeing my cattle, horses, and colts. Exuberant grass replenishes all my fields, the best representative of our wealth; in the middle of that track I have cut a ditch, eight feet wide, the banks of which nature adorns every spring with the wild salendine, and other flowering weeds, which on these luxuriant grounds shoot up to a great height. Over this ditch I have erected a bridge, capable of bearing a loaded waggon; on each side, I carefully sow every year some grains of hemp, which rise to the height of fifteen feet, so strong, and so full of limbs, as to resemble young trees; I once ascended one of them four feet above the ground. These produce natural arbours, rendered often still more compact by the assistance of an annual creeping plant, which we call a vine, that never fails to entwine itself among their branches, and always produces a very desirable shade. From this simple grove I have amused myself a hundred times in observing the great number of hummingbirds with which our country abounds: the wild blossoms every where attract the attention of these birds, which, like bees, subsist by suction. From this retreat I distinctly watch them in all their various attitudes; but their flight is so rapid that you cannot distinguish the motion of their wings. On this little bird Nature has profusely lavished her most splendid colours; the most perfect azure, the most beautiful gold, the most dazzling red, are for ever in contrast, and help to embellish the plumes of his majestic head. The richest pallet of the most luxuriant painter could never invent any thing to be compared to the variegated tints with which this insect-bird is arrayed. Its bill is as long and as sharp as a coarse sewing-needle; like the bee, nature has taught it to find out the calix of flowers and blossoms, those mellifluous particles that serve it for sufficient food; and yet it seems to leave them untouched, undeprived of any thing that our eyes can possibly distinguish. When it feeds, it appears as if immovable, though continually on the wing; and, sometimes, from what motives I know not, it will tear and lacerate flowers into a hundred pieces; for, strange to tell, they are the most irascible of the feathered tribe. — Where do passions find room in so diminutive a body? — They often fight with the fury of lions, until one of the combatants falls a sacrifice and dies. When fatigued, it has often perched within a few feet of me, and, on such favourable opportunities, I have surveyed it with the most minute attention. Its little eyes appear like diamonds, reflecting light on every side: most elegantly finished in all parts, it is a miniature-work of our great Parent; who seems to have formed it the smallest, and, at the same time, the most beautiful, of the winged species.
As I was one day sitting solitary and pensive in my primitive arbour, my attention was engaged by a strange sort of rustling noise at some paces distance. I looked all around without distinguishing any thing, until I climbed one of my great hemp-stalks; when, to my astonishment, I beheld two snakes of considerable length, the one pursuing the other, with great celerity, through a hemp-stubble field. The aggressor was of a black kind, six feet long; the fugitive was a water-snake, nearly of equal dimensions. They soon met, and, in the fury of their first encounter, they appeared in an instant firmly twisted together; and, whilst their united tails beat the ground, they mutually tried with open jaws to lacerate each other. What a fell aspect did they present! Their hands were compressed to a very small size, heads were compressed to a very small size, their eyes flashed fire; and, after this conflict had lasted about five minutes, the second found means to disengage itself from the first, and hurried toward the ditch. Its antagonist instantly assumed a new posture; and half creeping and half erect, with a majestic mein, overtook and attacked the other again, which placed itself in the same attitude and prepared to resist. The scene was uncommon and beautiful; for, thus opposed, they fought with their jaws, biting each other with the utmost rage; but, notwithstanding this appearance of mutual courage and fury, the water-snake still seemed delirious of retreating toward the ditch, its natural element. This was no sooner perceived by the keen-eyed black one, than, twisting its tail twice round a stalk of hemp, or seizing its adversary by the throat, not by means of its jaws, but by twisting its own neck twice round that of the water-snake, pulled it back from the ditch. To prevent a defeat, the latter took hold likewise of a stalk on the bank, and, by the acquisition of that point of resistance, became a match for its fierce antagonist. Strange was this to behold; two great snakes strongly adhering to the ground, mutually fastened, by means of the writhings, which lashed them to each other, and, stretched at their full length, they pulled, but pulled in vain; and, in the moments of greatest exertion, that part of their bodies which was entwined seemed extremely small, while the rest appeared inflated and, now and then, convulsed with strong undulations rapidly following each other. Their eyes seemed on fire and ready to start out of their heads; at one time the conflict seemed decided; the water-snake bent itself into two great folds, and, by that operation, rendered the other more than commonly outstretched; the next minute, the new struggles of the black one gained an unexpected superiority; it acquired two great folds likewise, which necessarily extended the body of its adversary in proportion as it had contracted its own. These efforts were alternate; victory seemed doubtful; inclining sometimes to the one side and sometimes to the other; until, at last, the stalk, to which the black snake fastened, suddenly gave way, and, in consequence of this accident, they both plunged into the ditch. The water did not extinguished their vindictive rage; for, by their agitations, I could trace, though not distinguish, their mutual attacks. They soon re-appeared on the surface twisted together as in their first onset; but the black snake seemed to retain its wonted superiority, for its head was exactly fixed above that of the other, which it incessantly pressed down under the water until it was stifled and sunk. The victor no sooner perceived its enemy incapable of farther resistance, than, abandoning it to the current, it returned on sure and disappeared.