According to my dictionary, the cobra di capello (Naia tripudians) is a reptile of the most venomous nature. This, like many other things the dictionary says, is not strictly true. There exist snakes whose bite is far more poisonous than that of the cobra. The common krait, for example, is four times as venomous, and yet the bite of this little reptile is mild as compared with that of the sea snake, which should be carefully distinguished from the sea-serpent of the “silly season.” But let us not quarrel with the writer of the dictionary; he did his best. The cobra is quite venomous enough for all practical purposes to merit the title of “the most venomous.” A fair bite kills a dog in from five minutes to an hour. Notwithstanding the lethal nature of his bite, the cobra is said by all who know him intimately to be a gentle, timid creature. Sulkiness is his worst vice. In captivity he sometimes sulks to such a degree as to starve to death unless food be pushed down his gullet! The cobra is a reptile who prefers retiring gracefully to facing the foe. It is only when driven into a corner that he strikes, and then apparently he does so with the utmost reluctance. Nicholson writes: “A cobra standing at bay can be readily captured; put the end of a stick gently across his head and bear it down to the ground by a firm and gradual pressure. He will not resist. Then place the stick horizontally across his neck and take him up. You must not dawdle about this; sharp is the word, when dealing with snakes, and they have as much respect for firm and kind treatment as contempt for timidity and irresolution.” “There is very little danger,” he adds, “about handling this snake; nerve is all that is required.” I have no doubt that this is all true. It is certainly borne out by the nonchalance with which an Indian, who is accustomed to snakes, will put his hand into a basket of cobras and pull one out. There are, however, some things the doing of which I prefer to leave to others, and one of these is the handling of venomous snakes. There is always the colubrine equivalent of the personal equation to be taken into consideration. People whose fondness for playing with fire takes the form of snake-charming will do well to operate upon light-coloured specimens, for experience has taught those who handle snakes that dark-coloured varieties are worse-tempered than those of paler hue. In some unaccountable manner blackness seems to be correlated with evil temper. Another word of warning. A snake has a longer reach than might be anticipated. On one occasion, wishing to show how the cobra strikes, I walked up to within a yard or two of one standing at bay and threw a clod of earth at him. He struck, and his head came unpleasantly near to my legs!

The cobra is a species of considerable interest to the zoologist. In the first place, several varieties exist. Some cobras have no figure marked on the hood, others display a pattern like a pair of spectacles, while others show a monocle. These are known respectively as the anocellate, the binocellate, and the monocellate varieties. The binocellate form is most frequently met with. It is found all over India. It is the only variety that occurs in Madras, and the one most commonly found in Bombay and North-Western India. The great majority of the cobras that dwell in Central India belong to the anocellate variety. This form is also found on the frontier from Afghanistan to Sikkim. The monocellate variety is the common cobra of Bengal, Burma, and China.

There can be but little doubt that the cobra is a form undergoing active evolution. Naia tripudians appears to be splitting up into three species. The spectacled cobra is probably the ancestral form. The black anocellate variety seems best adapted to the climatic conditions of the Central Provinces, while the pale, binocellate form thrives in Southern India. It is possible that these external characteristics are in some way correlated with adaptability to particular environments. Curiously enough, brown, yellow, and black varieties of the African cobra (Naia haje) exist. Some species of birds display a similar phenomenon. The coucal or crow-pheasant, for example, is divided up into three local races. Most naturalists are agreed that geographical isolation has been an important factor in the making of some species. Exactly why this should be so has yet to be explained.

Another interesting feature of the genus Naia is the dilatable neck or hood. Of what use is this to its possessor? Zoologists, or at least those of them who sit at home in easy chairs and formulate theories, have an answer to this question. They assert that the hood has a protective value. A cobra when at bay raises the anterior portion of its body, expands its hood, and hisses. This is supposed to terrify those animals which witness the demonstration. Thus Professor Poulton writes: “The cobra warns an intruder chiefly by attitude and the broadening of its flattened neck, the effect being heightened in some species by the ‘spectacle.’” Unfortunately for this hypothesis, no creature, with the possible exception of man, appears to be in the least alarmed at this display. Dogs regard it as a huge joke. Of this I have satisfied myself again and again, for when out coursing at Muttra we frequently came across cobras, which the dogs used invariably to chase, and we sometimes found it very difficult to keep the dogs off, since they seemed to be unaware that the creature was venomous. Colonel Cunningham’s experience has been similar. He writes: “Sporting dogs are very apt to come to grief where cobras abound, as there is something very alluring to them in the sight of a large snake when it sits up nodding and snarling; and it is often difficult to come up in time to prevent the occurrence of irreparable mischief.” He also states that many ruminants have a great animosity to snakes and are prone to attack any that they may come across. We must further bear in mind that even if the cobra does bite his adversary, this will avail him nothing, for the bite itself, though painful, is not sufficiently so to put a large animal hors de combat immediately. It does not profit the cobra greatly that his adversary dies after having killed him.

Thus, it seems to me that neither the hood nor the venom is protective. Indeed, it is difficult to understand how it is that the poison fangs have been evolved. The venom, of course, soon renders a small victim quiescent and so makes the swallowing of it easier than would otherwise be the case. But non-venomous snakes experience no difficulty in swallowing their prey. Moreover, in order that natural selection can explain the genesis and perfecting of an organ it is not sufficient to show that the perfected organ is of use. We must demonstrate that from its earliest beginning the organ in question has all along given its possessor sufficient advantage in the struggle for existence to effect his preservation when his fellows have been killed.