Should we not think that with such weapons as these the poisonous snakes would conquer every enemy? Yet they, too, only have their fair chance of life, for besides the destruction of their eggs other dangers await them. The rapacious birds, with their feathery covering, their horny and scale-covered legs and feet, and their hard beaks, will offer battle even to a poisonous snake. The buzzard makes short work of our common viper or adder, whose fangs, though fatal to small animals, are not nearly so powerful as those of snakes of hot countries. Seizing the viper with his claws in the middle of its body, the buzzard takes no notice of its frantic struggles as, winding itself about his feet, and striking wildly at his breast, his wings, and his scaly legs, it
“... doth ever seek
Upon its enemy’s heart a mortal wound to wreak.”
Keeping his own head well back out of danger, the bird lets the snake exhaust itself, waiting only till he can give a fatal blow with his beak upon its upraised head, and then, soon despatching it, tears it to pieces for a meal. Nor is even the dreaded Cobra safe from danger, for he finds his match in the powerful Adjutant birds (see [p. 128]), and in the Indian Ichneumon or Mungoos, which attacks the snake boldly, skilfully dodging the fatal stroke until it has broken the neck of its enemy; while in Africa the bold Secretary bird is complete master of the dreaded poisonous snakes of that country. In fact, there is little doubt that every kind of snake, either in youth or age, falls a victim to some kind of bird or beast; and even the poisonous sea-snakes, which swarm in the tropical seas, probably find their masters in the pugnacious saw-fish and the thick-skinned shark.
Fig. 31.
Common English viper (Pelias berus), with poison-fangs showing in the open mouth, and the soft harmless tongue outstretched to feel.
We see, then, that it is not without some struggle that these cold-blooded reptiles have held their own in the world, nor is it to be wondered at that only these four types—tortoises, lizards, crocodiles, and snakes—should have managed to find room to live among the myriads of warm-blooded animals which have filled the earth. These four groups have made a good fight of it, and many of them even make use of warm-blooded animals as food. The tortoises, it is true, feed upon plants, except those that live in the fresh water, and feed chiefly on fish, snakes, and frogs, while most of the lizards are insect-feeders. But the crocodile, as he lurks near the river’s edge, and the snake, when he fastens his glittering eye on a mouse or bird, are both on the look-out for animals higher in the world than themselves.
It is, perhaps, natural that we should shrink from cold-blooded creatures, especially as they seem to show very little affection. Yet lizards, tortoises, and snakes can all be made to know and care for those who are kind to them; while, as we have seen, the fierce crocodile watches over and feeds her young, and the python coils herself over her eggs, and will take no food till they are hatched. Moreover, we can scarcely look at the quaint shell-covered tortoise, or examine the heavily-mailed coat of the alligator, or the poison-fangs of the snake, without admiring the curious devices by which these animals have managed to survive in a world which once belonged to their ancestors, before our present swarm of warm-blooded animals multiplied and took possession of their kingdom.
