Another great confusion in classification has been in consequence of some of the earlier naturalists representing young snakes, or those of varying colours, as distinct species. It is very common for a young snake to differ in colour from the parent, and also common for those of the same brood to differ from each other. Of Coluber canis Dr. A. Smith says scarcely any two are marked and coloured alike. In a brood of the broad-scaled Tasmanian snake, H. superbus, there were upwards of thirty young ones, some of which Krefft describes as banded, and of a light colour, the rest being black. Our English slow-worm varies from dead black to nearly white, or flesh colour, one of the latter being an inmate of the Gardens at the time of writing, March 1882. The English viper also varies in colour, and we have heard of a perfectly yellow ring snake.
In England we have so few snakes, viz. the ring snake, the coronella, and one viper, and these three so distinct, that we are not likely to be perplexed with many varieties; but in tropical or semi-tropical regions, where closely-allied species abound, it may be suspected that hybrids not unfrequently create confusion as well as a multiplication of supposed ‘species’ not likely to cease. In our small London collection, hybrids have been produced at least twice within a few years; and we fear that the habit of hibernating in mixed multitudes leads to some immorality among the Ophidia. It is like the overcrowded dwellings of the poor, and the ‘free-lovers’ of America; and perhaps to ophidian unions between congeners occasionally may be traced not a few of the varieties which so curiously and closely blend different species and are a plague to classifiers. This is mere speculation.
The Indian vernaculars are as abundant and perplexing as those of Brazil. Of the cobras, Sir J. Fayrer says there are many varieties which the natives consider different species. ‘The snake charmers are poor naturalists, and disseminate many false notions as well as dangerous ones about the cobras.’ In the Thanatophidia nine or ten varieties are figured, all of the one single species (Naja tripudians), though all bear different vernaculars. The two chief distinctions in the markings are the spots on the back of the ‘neck,’ which, when the hood is distended, are easily distinguished. One with a single ocellus is the Keautiah, known as ‘Kala samp,’ ‘Nag samp,’ etc., being chiefly of the field or jungle. The other with the double ocellus is the ‘spectacled cobra,’ and essentially of the town. This is the ‘Gokurrah’ of the natives, and the favourite of the snake charmers. Being common all over a country which boasts of thirty-six written languages, the reader can imagine the number of vernaculars bestowed upon the Cobra capella.
The ophiophagus is almost equally favoured, as this snake also varies in colour, particularly in the young ones, which Fayrer affirms might easily be mistaken for a different species. Probably wherever snakes abound, the vernaculars are correspondingly numerous.
‘And after all which is the Curucucu, and which is the Jararaca?’ Being the proud possessor of both, I may describe them from nature; but conflicting opinions as to their identity still exist, because there are features in common among congeneric species, and what one author may decide is the Curucucu another will call the Jararaca. Dumeril, Gray, Günther, and other modern ophiologists have, however, so far simplified difficulties, as to recognise only one of each in our zoological collections, notwithstanding the liberal use of both terms in Brazil.
Our Curucucu, then, Lachesis or Crotalus mutus, has the flat, viperine head, covered with fine scales. The only plates are the upper and lower labials, one over the eye, and a pair of rather large ones under the chin. The ‘pit’ is very distinct, showing it to be a Bothrops and one of the Crotalidæ. The body colour is of a pale maize, approaching umber towards the back, and lighter on the belly, with a chain of rich chocolate-brown, jagged, rhomboid spots, edged with darker tints, along the back. It is undeniably handsome, and in life no doubt was iridescent, but alas for the ‘rainbow splendours,’ they have vanished! In length it is about nine feet, and in girth as big as one’s arm in the largest part. Its tail tapers suddenly. One sees in the strongly-keeled scales the ‘prominences’ alluded to by Dr. Wucherer; and as the fangs are represented life-size on p. 360, the reader can judge for himself about the ‘four-inch nails.’ Mine is probably a nearly full-grown serpent, therefore an average-size specimen, and much the same as the one brought to the Gardens in the summer of 1881, which lingered a pitiable object for six or eight months, eating nothing, and gradually wasting.
The Jararaca is a slighter snake, and in colour of an olive tint with darker markings, not unlike Xenodon’s jagged leaf pattern along the back. Its right to the name of Craspedocephalus (craspedo, derived from a Greek word signifying an edge or border) is recognised by a peculiar ridge round its flat, angular, and almost lance-shaped head. It is also a Trigonocephalus and a Bothrops. My specimen being only half-grown is about three feet long, and the thickness of your little finger. ‘Is there not great confusion in the application of the terms craspedoceph. and trigonoceph.?’ wrote Dr. Stradling, on sending me these much-prized specimens. Yes, there certainly is; but by this time the reader sees the reason for this, and also for the many appellatives which they derive from the Fates and the Furies. Not to weary the reader with further lists of names, I will refer him to Gray’s Catalogue of the British Museum Snakes, p. 5, for the accepted Jararaca of the authorities, and to Dumeril, tome vii. pt. ii. p. 1509, for the same; both authors giving the numerous synonyms, and the latter the reasons for many of them. The student will there see how Wagler is supposed to have described young snakes as different species; and if further investigation be invited, a good deal of entertainment may be had from Wagler himself and his folio volume,[128] Serpentum Braziliensis, with its wonderful coloured illustrations. Then for the Curucucu, the Lachesis mutus of modern ophiologists, see p. 13 of Gray, and p. 1486, tome vii. pt. ii. of Dumeril et Bibron. From these authors we may go back to Marcgrave, 1648, for the ‘Cvrvcvcv Braziliensibus, fifteen palms long, truculent and much to be feared.’ Marcgrave’s book is embellished with marvellous pictures which are not likely to enlighten us much; but through him we are enabled to identify some of his serpents with the vernaculars, for, like the Pilgrim Purchas, the vernaculars were all he had to guide him.
Authorities recognise six or seven species of Craspedocephalus, presumably all having the easily distinguishable edge like a thin cord round their heads, and which doubtless were the ‘prominent Veines’ described by Purchas in the Brazilian species, now generally recognised as ‘the Jararaca.’ I will invite my readers to ‘co-operate’ and call no harmless little snakes by this name, which originally implied something terrible.
‘And what is the outcome of all this etymological jumble?’
‘Well, we at least learn that as in English the words snake, adder, serpent, have a somewhat general signification, so have some of the Brazilian vernaculars. But I cannot help thinking that many of these names had more of natural history in them than we are apt to suspect, though no doubt the original meaning has become much corrupted during three hundred years’ colonization. The native races knew quite well that some snakes were dangerous and some harmless, which is more than can be said for the present occupiers of South America, who think all venomous as a matter of a course.