DO SNAKES AFFORD A REFUGE TO THEIR YOUNG?

THE question, ‘Do vipers swallow their young in times of danger?’ is one less easy to solve to the satisfaction of the unbelievers than some of the preceding inquiries, because the proof demanded is an almost unattainable one. ‘Bring me a viper with its mouth tied up, and all her young ones in her throat, and then I will believe you,’ say the sceptics. Now, in the first place, a man does not go hedging and ditching, or to reap corn, nor does a gentleman go to his field sports, or for a country stroll, ready provided with a cord and a bag and an assistant for the express purpose of capturing maternal vipers, who at sight of him receive all their little ones into their mouths; and, in the second place, if he did so, making it the one business of his walk to seek for and entrap such vipers, he might spend a great many summers in the search before his trouble was rewarded. Even were he so fortunate, it is doubtful whether he would be believed by all persons; for viper-swallowing, like ‘the Great Sea Serpent,’ has been a subject so contemptuously dismissed that investigation is arrested, and few in England would now risk their reputation by committing their names to print in connection with it. It is much to be regretted that this has of late years been the case with several English publications whose columns should be open to a fair examination of evidence on all zoological questions. The influence of such journals, therefore, checks progress; for until prejudice is got rid of, there can be no advancement in any science.

As is well known, the late Mr. Frank Buckland was to the last sceptical on this question. His specialty was not ophiology; but the mass of readers do not stop to inquire about this; and he, being a popular writer as well as a popular character, was accredited by thousands who quoted him, while themselves no naturalists, nor in any position to form an independent opinion. Some contemporary journals unfortunately display the same prejudices, even at the time of writing, causing zoological publications, which should embrace every branch of biology, to be devoted almost exclusively to the specialties of an editor.

Happily this scepticism is not universal. In the American publications devoted to zoology, information in every branch is welcomed as worthy of consideration; and though truth has often to be sifted out from a very gigantic pile of rubbish, still it is worth the search; and we can but feel that the rapid advance of our Transatlantic relatives in every branch of science is due, in a great measure, to the dismissal of prejudice and to the encouragement of every new idea.

So far as snakes are concerned, their field is wide, it is true. In England our observations are limited to our one viper, whereas America is the land of snakes, no less than are India and Australia; and while our native viper is growing rarer every year, the opportunities for observation in the Western World are wherever a new settlement is planted.

Thus, when, in February 1873, Professor G. Browne Goode, of Middletown University, Connecticut, invited, through the columns of the American Agriculturist, all the authentic information that could be procured on the question, ‘Do snakes swallow their young?’ he received, as he tells us, no less than 120 testimonies from as many persons in various parts of the United States that single season.

The area in which information was collected included twenty-four States and counties, ‘almost all the evidence being valuable.’

Professor Goode was intending to bring the subject before the American Association for the Advancement of Science, to convene at Portland, Maine, the following August; and he spent the summer in collecting information.

At that session of 1873, in the Biological Section of the Association, ‘A Science Convention on Snakes’ was held, and a paper was read by Professor G. Browne Goode, the subject offered for discussion being—‘Do snakes offer a temporary refuge for their young in their throats, whence they emerge when the danger is past?’ On this occasion the chair was occupied by Mr. F. W. Putnam, one of the editors of the American Naturalist, and secretary to the Association. Professor Joseph Lovering was the new President on Professor Lawrence Smith’s retiring; and among those who took part in the discussion were several eminent naturalists New York and other journals published reports of the Convention at the time; and the entire paper by Professor Goode was given to the world in the Annual Reports of the American Association.

From these I will condense the principal matter, quoting also from a paper on the same subject written by F. W. Putnam in vol. ii. of the American Naturalist for 1869. Indeed, the two accounts are so blended that I can only recommend both to the perusal of the interested reader, Professor Goode having reproduced much from Putnam’s paper in the American Naturalist, which, as he informs us, was the first that led him to take an interest in the subject.

He began by reminding his audience that it had long been a popular belief that the young of certain snakes seek a temporary protection from danger by gliding down the open throat of the mother, though it had been of late doubted by so many naturalists as to be classed among the superstitions; but that now a summing up of the evidence would show conclusively that the popular idea is sustained by facts.

The traditions of the North American Indians show that the belief has prevailed with them from prehistoric times. In England also, as he reminded us, as early as the sixteenth century, allusions to it are found in Spencer’s Faerie Queene, 1590, Canto I. vv. 14, 15, 22, 25. From this a word or two only need be quoted regarding the

‘Half serpent, half woman,’

with

‘One thousand young ones sucking upon her poison dugs,’

when she is disturbed in her dark cave:

‘Soon as that uncouth light upon them shone,
Into her mouth they crept, and suddaine all were gone.’

Again, in Sir Thomas Browne’s Pseudoxia, or ‘Vulgar Errours, published in 1672, we find: ‘For the young ones will upon any fright, for protection run into the belly of the Dam. For then the old one receives them into her mouth, which way, the fright being passed, they will returne againe; which is a peculiar way of refuge.’

He quotes from the Humorous Lieutenant of Beaumont and Fletcher the words, ‘This is the old viper, and all the young ones creep every night into her belly.’

The Professor also mentioned the American traveller, Mr. Jonathan Carver, who, towards the end of the last century, recorded that he had seen a large brood of young rattlesnakes retire for safety into the throat of the parent, which he killed, when no less than seventy young ones made their escape. Practical experience demands, How had he time to reckon up these active, wriggling, tangled fugitives? Nevertheless his story found favour and has been subsequently recited as probable. Chateaubriand believed the fact, and glowingly expatiates on the ‘Superb Reptile which presents to man a pattern of tenderness.’ ... ‘When her offspring are pursued, she receives them into her mouth: dissatisfied with every other place of concealment, she hides them within herself, concluding that no asylum can be safer for her progeny than the bosom of a mother. A perfect example of sublime love, she refuses to survive the loss of her young, for it is impossible to deprive her of them without tearing out her entrails.’ Elsewhere, with less of admiration for the exemplary crotalus, Chateaubriand says, ‘By a singular faculty the female can introduce into her body the little monsters to which she has given birth.’

One of the early writers who witnessed this offer of refuge was M. de Beauvoir, who saw a disturbed rattlesnake open her jaws to receive five young ones. This amazed spectator retired to quietly watch the result, when, after the lapse of some minutes, the mother snake recovered confidence, and she again opened her mouth and ‘discharged’ her little family. Professor Palisot de Beauvoir was an eminent French naturalist of the beginning of this century, and the author of Observations sur les serpents, published in Daudin’s Histoire naturelle, Paris, 1803. He was accepted as an authority on many other points of natural history; and it is not improbable that he influenced Cuvier’s belief in the ophidian maternal refuge.

It certainly does seem incredible that an occurrence so unprecedented should have been conceived of in the first instance without some ocular demonstration of it.

Another American traveller, whose testimony Professor Goode considered of worth, was St. John Dunn Hunter,[132] who saw young ones rush into the rattlesnake’s mouth, and reappear when ‘the parent gave a sort of contractile motion of the throat as a sign that danger was past.’

Coming down to our own times, Professor Goode mentioned Dr. Edward Palmer, of the Smithsonian Institute of Washington, a well-known traveller and collector, who in Paraguay saw seven young crotali run into their mother’s mouth. After the snake was killed, they all ran out. The parent and her brood are now in the National Museum at Washington, D.C. Similar occurrences were witnessed by Professor Sydney J. Smith, of Yale College; the Rev. Chauncey Loomis, M.D., of Middletown University; Dr. D. L. Phares; Mr. Thomas Meham of Philadelphia; a member of the Convention then present; and other ‘gentlemen whose statements as naturalists were not to be doubted.’ ‘Due weight should be given to the wide distribution of the witnesses and the remarkable concurrence of their statements,’ said the speaker.

Professors Wyman and Gill, and other physiologists then present, showed that there is no physical reason why young snakes should not remain for a time in the body of the mother. The gastric juice acts slowly on living tissues, and as for respiration, it is almost impossible to smother reptiles. ‘Snakes can live for a long time immersed in water, and even in bottles hermetically sealed, and why not in a place of refuge?’ argued Mr. Putnam. Instances were given of frogs escaping from the stomach of snakes; also of other snakes swallowed by a larger species returning to the light of day.

As a habit, if the swallowing ‘is not protective there is no parallel; if protective, a similar habit is seen in some fishes of the South American waters, of the genera Arius, Bagrus, and Geophagus, where the males carry the eggs for safety in their mouths and gill openings.’ Mr. Putnam instanced the Pipe-fish (Syngnathus Peckianus), whose young when in an aquarium have been seen to go in and out of the pouch of the male fish; and that a belief prevails among some sailors that young sharks which suddenly disappear have gone into the mouth of the mother. Some South American fishes carry their eggs in their mouth, and why should there not exist an equally motherly regard on the part of snakes?

Mr. F. W. Putnam, secretary to the Association, had made himself acquainted with all the English ‘viper-swallowing’ literature of any importance up to the date of his paper on the subject in the American Naturalist, 1869. Previous to that date, Science Gossip, the Field, the Zoologist, and other English journals had devoted more space to the subject than subsequently; and from these Mr. Putnam cited many records from intelligent observers, in proof ‘that snakes do afford refuge to their young.’ Of especial importance, as corroborative evidence, were the statements and anatomical investigations of Dr. Edwardes Crispe, F.Z.S., etc., who had for a long while been studying the physiological possibility of such a retreat. On the question, Would not the young snakes be rapidly digested in the stomach of the parent? this anatomist showed that they would not come in contact with the gastric juice at all, and that there is ample room in the expansile oesophagus to receive them. He had made experiments with various snakes by filling the stomach with water, in order to ascertain its capacity in bulk. In 1855, Dr. E. Crispe had read a paper on this subject at one of the meetings of the Zoological Society, and again in 1862, when his previous opinions had become confirmed. He had ‘positive evidence enabling him to state with certainty that the English viper and some other venomous snakes do swallow their young at an early period.’

Towards the end of the last century, Gilbert White, in his History of Selborne, refers to the prevalent theory, and the instances recorded by him are by the earlier editors of his works regarded rather as evidence than the contrary. In the edition of 1851, the editor Jesse, himself a naturalist, took pains to ascertain facts concerning vipers, and he believed in the evidence given him. He had found vipers in their mother’s ‘stomach’ (he does not say oviduct) ‘of a much larger size (seven inches) than they would be when first excluded.’

(In the later editions of the History of Selborne, it is much to be regretted that doubts are again thrown on the subject; and this in face of the opinions of men of eminence, who had written from observation, and had physiologically shown the possibility of such a refuge.)

Mr. Putnam also quoted Mr. M. C. Cooke, the author of Our Reptiles, and at that time editor of Science Gossip. Here is a herpetologist well able to form an unbiassed opinion, and who in his work says on this question: ‘Men of science and repute, clergymen, naturalists, in common with those who make no profession of learning, have combined in this belief. Add to these, gentlemen whose statements in other branches of natural history would not be doubted.’ Among them were Henry Doubleday, Esq. of Epping, a well-known entomologist; the Rev. H. Bond, of South Pellerton, Somerset; T. H. Gurney, of Calton Hall, Norwich, a well-known ornithologist; and several others of similar scientific standing.

Curiously, no one appears to doubt a similar maternal instinct as displayed in our little native lizard, Zootica vivipara! Mr. Doubleday related the case of one being accidentally trodden upon, when three young ones ran out of her mouth. It was immediately killed and opened, and two others that had been too much injured by the foot to make their escape were still within the parent. At the time when a controversy on the viper question was going on, Mr. Edward Newman edited the Zoologist, and he himself related a most confirmatory case of this viviparous lizard. A gentleman who was collecting, caught one with two young ones; all three were consigned to his pocket vasculum. On reaching home the two young ones had disappeared, and the mother looked in such goodly condition that he thought she must have made a meal of her offspring. Next morning, behold! there were the two little ones and their devoted parent all safe and sound. She had sheltered them within her body! And, as Mr. Newman added, ‘the narrators are of that class who do know what to observe and how to observe it.’

In May 1865 a clergyman in Norfolk communicated to Science Gossip that he had seen six or seven young vipers run helter-skelter down their mother’s throat. He killed the parent and ‘out came the little ones.’ In July another correspondent of the same paper saw several young vipers vanish in a like manner, adding, ‘By the way the mother opened her mouth to receive them, he would say they were accustomed to that sort of thing.’ Mr. J. H. Gurney recorded that a viper with young ones was disturbed, when two of the latter ran into her open mouth, the second one after getting half in wriggling out again. The viper was cut open to seek a reason for this, when a recently swallowed mouse was found stopping up the way. The first had managed to get into safe quarters, but the second could not pass.

In Oct. 1866 the question was revived by Mr. Thomas Rider, who wrote to the Field newspaper that on September 21st he had seen a number of little vipers about three inches long run down their mother’s throat. His account was followed by a number of letters from various persons, who very lamely tried to convince him that his eyes had deceived him; that what he had seen was the wriggling tongue, and a good deal more of such feeble talk, which Mr. Rider took in gentlemanly good-humour. He further described that at first he clearly saw the young ones at a distance from the parent; that, the latter being killed, the young were found within her; that in carrying her, two of them had fallen out of her mouth; that he felt quite sure that what he stated was correct. His description was so graphic and evidently truthful that the distinguished naturalist Thomas Bell wrote also to the Field to express his great satisfaction at so authentic an account, confirming his own previous impressions. ‘I did not doubt the fact before,’ he said, in the Field of October 27th, 1866, ‘but such an attestation as this from such an authority’ (an educated country gentleman) ‘must be considered as settling the question.’

For the next few weeks in the Natural History columns of the Field a number of letters from various persons appeared, the majority taking up the cudgels to resent the insult offered to Mr. Rider and the eminent herpetologist Thomas Bell, F.L.S., F.R.S., and one of the Council of the Zoological Society; and to quote still other cases of viper-swallowing. ‘Only a purblind, stupid person,’ wrote one of them, ‘could possibly mistake young vipers for a tongue.’

J. Scott Hayward, Esq. of Folkington, Sussex, wrote that three of his men while haymaking found a viper, and one of them crushed its head with his boot. A young viper ‘scrabbled’ about his boot after its mother. They then cut off the viper’s head, and seven young vipers crawled out at the neck. The other had been too late, but was evidently trying to follow the rest. There was no possibility of mistaking seven little vipers for one hair-like tongue in this case; but a man ‘convinced against his will,’ etc., and therefore the editor again abruptly closed the subject.

Of the hundred or more instances occurring in America, and now presented to the assembly, those considered of especial interest were published in the Reports of the Association; and after some further discussion Professor Gill said that he considered the evidence sufficient to finally decide the matter. ‘Since many important facts in biology are accepted on the statements of one single observer, these testimonies are claimed to be sufficient to set the matter for ever at rest.’

This was the conclusion arrived at by the members of the American ‘Science Convention on Snakes,’ in 1873.

Of the witnesses introduced on that occasion, Professor Goode dismissed those who had only found the young snakes within the parent, but had not seen them enter. ‘Let us not trust to untrained observations,’ he said; those whose testimony was accepted being, in addition to the well-known men already mentioned—‘an intelligent class of farmers, planters, and business men, intelligent readers of an agricultural magazine.’ ... ‘The well-attested cases included many non-venomous species, the habit probably extending to all those which are known as oviparous, as well as the CrotalidÆ. The examples embraced the garter snake, Eutania sirtalis and E. saurita; the water snake, Tropidonotus sipedon; the rattlesnake, Caudisona horridus; the copper-head and moccasin, Ancistrodon contortrix and piscivorus; the “Massasauga,” Crotalus tergiminus; the English viper, Pelias berus; and the mountain black snake, Coluber Alleghaniensis. Probably all the CrotalidÆ might be included. It remains to be shown whether the habit extends to the egg-laying snakes, but as yet no proof had occurred. The Professors then present invited still further observations and reports, affirming that the breeding habits of more than twenty-five of the North American genera were entirely unknown.’

The following are a few of the cases recorded.

A ‘water moccasin’ (probably Ancistrodon piscivorus) had been seen for several days unwelcomely close to a southern residence. A gentleman wishing to entice her away from the water so as the better to kill her, had a rabbit placed near, which by and by she seized and had nearly swallowed, when those on the watch made a noise to alarm her. She quickly disgorged it, gave a shrill whistling noise, and five young snakes ran from under a log down her throat. The men cut off her head and found the five young which tried to get away.

‘A farmer who was mowing saw a number of little snakes and a large one. He went a short distance to fetch a fork to kill them, and on his return found only the large one left. He struck it on the back, and seven ran out of her mouth.’

‘Another farmer saw a “striped snake,” and noticed a number of young ones near to her head. He alarmed them, and the young ones rushed in at her open mouth. He stepped back and watched to see what next would happen, when presently some of them came out. He killed the mother, and all the rest ran out.’

A gentleman in Ohio saw a water snake on a bank. He got a pole, and with one stroke of it wounded her, but not so much as to disable her. She instantly made for the water, swam about her own length, when she ‘wheeled round’ with difficulty, and placing her under jaw just above the level of the water, opened her mouth wide, when some ten or twelve young snakes ran or swam down her throat; after which she went in search of a hiding-place. She was, however, killed and opened, and ‘about twenty’ living young snakes were found within her, ‘two or three of which were seven or eight inches long.’ Out of the 120 cases recorded, sixty-seven of the witnesses saw and described the actions so distinctly as to leave no doubt in the minds of their hearers; and of these, twenty-two heard the parents’ signal ‘whistle,’ or hiss, or click, or rattles, according to the species observed.

A man Charles Smith was ploughing near Chicago, when his plough caught and turned over a large flat stone (‘rock,’ as they call it there), exposing a very large rattlesnake and her young ones. The mother rattled the alarm, and all the young ones ran down her throat. Smith killed the old one, and immediately the young ones began to crawl back from her mouth and were killed by him. Thirteen of them were five or six inches long.

Some of the witnesses, after killing the snake into which they had seen the young ones retire, saw them shaken out again by dogs which had seized the mother. A few of the observers went on several successive days to watch a certain snake that was known to have a nest close by; and on each occasion when alarmed, the young ran into the parent’s mouth.

Mr. Putnam also mentioned a ‘striped snake’ (which he had considered ovoviviparous) bringing forth live young ones at the end of August; she ‘having been a long while in confinement.’ (This was no doubt a case of retarded functions.)

In vol. iii. of the American Naturalist, 1870, an interesting record of the ‘blowing snake’ (Heterodon platyrhinos) appears. One of these snakes had been wounded in her side, and over one hundred young ones from 6 to 8 inches long came forth from the wound. They were all active, all blowing and flattening their bodies like thoroughly wide-awake Heterodons. Sixty-three of them being uninjured died in alcohol, thirteen were much lacerated, as was the mother, and the rest escaped. Says the narrator, ‘We know that this snake is oviparous. Had she swallowed them, or can she be also ovoviviparous?’ (Well, she might be either or both as occasion demanded!) This is one of those examples which might have given rise to the supposition handed down by Aristotle, and explained p. 431.

One hundred snakelings from 6 to 8 inches long seems almost incredible from the space they would occupy. Yet in bulk they would not be more than one large snake which the mother could easily swallow. The accommodating ribs render such habits more feasible than at first sight would appear. Heterodon platyrhinos is a wonderfully prolific snake. In the Zoological Society Proceedings, vol. vi. 1869, S. S. Ruthven states that he has observed it to bring forth over one hundred live young at a time.

One more example shall be added, of what Professor Goode considered a remarkable instance of hereditary instinct. In a hay-field was found a nest of eggs, one of which was cut open, when a small but perfectly formed ‘milk adder’ within immediately assumed a menacing attitude and ‘brandished’ its tongue. Some of the other eggs were then torn open, the young in which acted in a similar manner. Then the old snake appeared, and after endeavours to encourage this unexpected family, put her head on a level with the ground and opened her mouth, when the young ones vanished down her throat.

It is worthy of notice that in many of the above cases the mother snake made a signal noise, that the young ones understood this signal, and that she opened her mouth in a manner which they readily comprehended. ‘This concurrence of testimony is not to be disregarded,’ says Professor Goode. And the reader will admit the force of these evidences. Those witnesses, dispersed over thousands of square miles, had entered into no compact to make their accounts agree; nor did one spectator in Kansas know what another in New Jersey was looking at or writing about.

After such a weight of evidence, and in face of the decision arrived at by the American Convention, it is greatly to be lamented that the Field, so far from advancing like our American friends, now retrogrades on this question. So lately as October 1881, when another case was cited of the maternal refuge, the Editor closes his columns against investigation; and refuses to be convinced unless he were to see ‘the young vipers at the Zoological Gardens obligingly run in and out of their mothers’ mouths,’ which is a performance we are never likely to witness. For, in the first place, the young are often produced in mid-day, in the presence of the crowd of visitors. Thus, from their birth accustomed to publicity, they have not the motive as when in their native haunts they are suddenly alarmed at the first sight of an apparition in human form. And in the second place, the young are generally removed at once into a separate cage, and they lose all knowledge of their mother. Both mother and progeny are familiar with humanity; and the former is much more likely at the sight of the keeper to open her mouth for a mouse than to invite her children to enter therein.

In the foregoing portions of this volume I have been able frequently to bring personal observations to verify what books have taught me. With the present subject this cannot be the case. I have neither seen a viper in the act of giving refuge to her young ones by receiving them into her mouth, nor have I ever had the circumstance described to me by any one who has witnessed the proceeding. This is not surprising, seeing that my studies have been prosecuted almost entirely in London. For any information obtained at the Gardens I am indebted solely to the keepers, whose opportunities of observation when aided by intelligence and experience merit the confidence of the inquirer.

So astonishing a phase of ophidian habits—let us say only reputed habits—was, however, to me one to excite very special interest, as well as to induce inquiry and a possible solution of the mystery; and towards this solution the facts related in chap. xxiv. and xxv. appear to me to come foremost in our aid. All snakes that are ovoviviparous, was the decision arrived at by the American ophiologists; or viviparous, for we have seen that the two words have but little value as a distinction. I would venture so far as to render it thus:—

In snakes which are either viviparous, or in which from some cause or other extrusion has been so postponed that the young are conscious of existence before birth. Conscious also when born that they had been safer in that pre-natal condition than now when assailed on all sides by dangers hitherto unknown. This idea—and probably an untenable, unphysiological, and foolish idea, which science might laugh to scorn in an instant—still the idea did flash into my mind one day in the summer of 1873, when Holland, announcing a brood of young ring snakes which had just been hatched at the Gardens, and describing their baby terrors, said, ‘It is funny to see how they all try to wriggle back into their shells again.’

‘Then those little Colubers had been conscious of security before they were hatched,’ I reflected, ‘and conscious when they did emerge into activity that the shell had been a safe refuge to them.’ (This was prior to the American Convention, of which I knew nothing until long afterwards.)

Consciousness of locality must, I think, have a good deal to do with the maternal refuge; and that snakes possess this consciousness in a strong degree has been already shown in their habit of returning to the same spot to hibernate year after year: and not only for winter quarters; but a strong love of locality and a memory of home are observed wherever snakes abound. ‘They remain in a hole or a crevice of the wall for years,’ Fayrer affirms. In his Prairie Folk, Parker Gilmore tells of a family of ‘Puff adders’ (by which probably Heterodon platyrhinos is meant) that had taken up their abode under the boards of a porch for several years and could not be routed out. Nicholson, also, in his Indian Snakes, informs us that when he was stationed at Kamptee in 1868, a cobra and a pair of Bungarus acutus lived in his bungalow for a long while. He could not find where the cobra lived, but the Bungari made themselves at home in a hole of the wall under his dressing-table. He never saw either of these interlopers, but identified them by the skins which they ‘periodically cast;’ taking advantage of his absence, no doubt, or of his nocturnal somnolence, to perform their toilet under his looking-glass!

The often recounted tale of an Indian who had a tame rattlesnake that went away every spring, and returned regularly each autumn to a certain tub which it had appropriated for its home, is only an example of affection for locality; but by those who were not cognisant of this habit, the story has been produced with a strong flavour of the marvellous, and the Indian who knew by the season when to expect his creeping friend, was not slow to attribute the regular return to especial regard for his own person. That crotalus coming alone so regularly, was probably a lone widow or widower; because we also know that the pair of snakes are usually seen together, and that they follow each other with strong conjugal affection. This is not irrelevant to the present subject; because the affection of ophidians, whether conjugal or maternal, is what we are now considering. The quality was well known in classic ages, though it has been denied them in modern times. Many writers on snakes, while affirming that they ‘exhibit no phase of affection,’ describe their constantly going in pairs; or the fact that they become ‘vicious if their retreat is cut off.’ ‘In their peregrinations male and female are always in company,’ says Catlin; ‘and when only one is seen, the other is sure to be within hearing.’ When a female has been killed and left on the spot, the male always comes. The Indians profit by this knowledge of conjugal devotion to lie in wait and kill the mate. They place the dead one near the hole of their retreat, and watch the egress of the survivor, which is sure to come and inspect its dead companion.

Sir Emerson Tennant observed a decided affection between the sexes of the cobra. In his History of Ceylon he gives several proofs, as for instance a cobra being killed in a bath, and the next day the mate being found there. In Baird’s Report of one of the Pacific exploring expeditions, a good deal is said about the Bull snake (Pituophis), which follows its mate by the scent. Once a fine individual having been captured and placed in a barrel near the tent, a large one of the same species was shortly afterwards found close by, and in a direct line from where its mate was caught.

So much for conjugal affection. As regards maternal devotion, we certainly had a proof in the pythons remaining week after week on their eggs. True, they took no notice of the little ones when hatched, because they were well able to take care of themselves. The mothers had fulfilled their duties beforehand. Snakes which are vicious at no other time, menace those who approach their nests or cut off their retreat. This is a fact universally recognised, alike in Africa, India, Australia, and America: wherever a traveller, a hunter, or a resident incidentally mentions snake habits, he confirms this home affection.

‘Snakes, if aggressive at no other time, are always spiteful when they have young,’ says Fayrer. And an anecdote is related of a man who stumbled on a nest of young Hamadryads, and was pursued a long distance by the angry mother. Terror added wings to his flight, as she came fast upon him. In despair he plunged into a river and swam across, but on reaching the opposite bank, up reared the furious Hamadryad, its dilated eyes glistening with rage, ready to bury its fangs in his trembling body. Escape now seemed hopeless, and as a last resource he tore off his turban and threw that at the enemy. With characteristic stupidity the snake plunged its fangs into this, biting it furiously. After wreaking its vengeance upon the turban, it glided back to its nest and its young ones and so the man escaped.

Apropos of Indian snakes, Nicholson, though a practical ophiologist, never heard of snakes swallowing their young in India. This may be because so large a proportion of them are egg-laying, and because the only two vipers, Daboia and Echis, are nocturnal, very shy, and not so frequent. Most of the other members of the Indian viperine snakes, the CrotalidÆ, are tree snakes, which, like the sea snakes, are more likely to be dispersed and separated from their progeny, and to take refuge in flight. They are, besides, less frequent, shy, nocturnal, or crepuscular; and belong more to Malay and Hindoo China, than to the localities in which observations are more feasible. Fayrer does not even state positively that they are viviparous. At the same time Nicholson will ‘say nothing certain about the young going down the throat, but sees no reason why not.’ ‘They can do without air for half an hour or so, and a snake’s throat is sufficiently capacious to allow a frog to croak de profundis clamavi when he is two feet from daylight.’

Among unprejudiced observers there are still some who are inclined to attribute to optical delusion the sudden disappearance of young snakes; arguing from their astonishing rapidity of motion, and the almost inappreciable space into which they can creep and hide in their mother’s coils. Mr. Arthur Nicols, in his interesting papers on Snakes, published in The Country newspaper, in 1878-79, describes a case of this kind from personal observation when in Australia. He disturbed a snake with a number of young around her, the latter quickly vanishing. He discharged his gun, and the old snake was almost cut to pieces with shot. Approaching, he found all the young ones hidden beneath and about her, and when he stirred them up they persisted in hiding among the shattered coils, returning thither to the last.

Mr. Nicols states only that it was a poisonous snake, not giving the specific name. She had probably incubated her eggs, and the young had remembered the shelter of their mother’s coils. That it was a display of filial refuge is, however, undeniable.

A similar occurrence is related in the Field of November 10th, 1866, by a Mr. Brittain, as an argument against the swallowing process. He had seen young vipers run to their mother for protection, and so completely out of sight that only on disturbing them they were found to have secreted themselves in her coils. These may have been at a more advanced age, and had ceased to enter the mouth.

It is remarkable that hitherto, excepting in Pelias berus, we hear of this maternal display as peculiar to America only. Whether a more intimate acquaintance with the snakes of other countries will reveal new instances in the course of time, we cannot conjecture. It is to be wished that observations on this head may be published, and investigations encouraged; or in the minds of the million, the maternal oesophagal refuge will still be classed among the fables.

Taking it for granted, then, in deference to the American ‘Convention,’ that snakes do offer refuge to their young, it is curious to speculate as to how the habit originated and became a confirmed one. Maternal instincts have, without doubt, been strong from the first; and we must suppose that similar dangers to those which induce a snake now to summon her young ones had also been the cause of postponed functions in the mother, and that hers were precocious little reptiles before they ever saw light.

Because we cannot assume that in a state of security an oviparous snake would ‘retard its laying’ and become ovoviviparous or viviparous; nor that a viper would intentionally retain her young until their fangs were developed (see p. 360), so that they should be able to take care of themselves; or a rattlesnake till its young had rattles as well as fangs (see p. 299), these being the principal species which do shelter their young. And the habit must have had a beginning; there must have been some training, some development of instinct, to lead up to what we now see, viz. a snake deliberately giving a signal, lowering her head to the level of the ground or water, opening wide her mouth to receive her young, and giving them a second sign when they might safely venture forth again.

This is the state of things supposed to exist at the present time; and it would seem to be an organized habit, perfected in process of ages, and one in which the mother’s instinct, and a consciousness of harbouring active young ones before introducing them to surrounding dangers, must have had a considerable share.

In concluding this speculative chapter, I can only humbly beg to ‘second the motion’ put to the learned assembly at Portland, Maine, in 1873, to the effect that the subject will receive the attention of ophiologists in all the snake countries of the world.