Not many months ago a very valuable snake was thus rescued literally from the jaws of death. A South American rat snake (Geoptyas collaris) began to eat a rabbit that was put in the cage for a python, which also began to eat it. Collaris would not let it go, and so the python continued to advance upon it until he came to his comrade, and proceeded with this prolonged repast. Collaris is a rather large snake of some eight or ten feet long. When nearly the whole of him had vanished, the keeper—who, of course, had been occupied at each cage in turn—fortunately discovered about a foot of tail fast disappearing in the mouth of the python, the whole of Collaris, excepting this caudal portion, having been swallowed. Just in time to rescue the victim, the keeper, by his experienced manipulation, made the python open his mouth, while the assistant helped to pull at Collaris. At last they pulled back all the seven feet of snake, which sustained no further injury than a slight scratch or two against the python’s teeth; but he seemed none the worse, and was no sooner free than he seized a rat, constricted and ate it with a celerity which seemed to say he would make sure of a meal this time.
On the following Friday the very same thing was about to occur again. Collaris had begun to swallow the python’s rabbit, the latter having prior hold; but the keeper was on the watch, and administered a little practical reproof which made the rat snake loosen his hold. Matters were further complicated on this occasion by the python throwing some coils around his intended feast, so that to get a purchase and manage these two constrictors was less easy than on the previous occasion, though then the snake had been swallowed. In the same cage were also two other pythons, quite strong enough to strangle a person had they taken a fancy to hug him round the neck. Both were aroused and displeased at the commotion, and ready to ‘fly’ at the men, who, on the whole, had an exciting time with the four constrictors, all from eight to twelve feet long.
Cannibalism is very common in snakes, particularly among the Elapidæ, which have small and narrow heads, and can therefore more conveniently swallow a fellow-creature than a bird or a quadruped. The keeper told me that often a box arrives at the Gardens labelled ‘Ten cobras,’ or ‘twelve,’ as may be; when, on opening the box, the number falls short; suggesting that cannibalism has diminished the company. It is a curious fact, however, that snakes, as a rule, seize prey whose bulk far exceeds their own, even when a more manageable kind could be easily caught. It is as if they were aware of the accommodating nature of their multifold ribs; as a snake longer than themselves must be doubled up in their stomach, and those broader than themselves must, one would imagine, be a most uncomfortable meal to dispose of. Yet this is common. Mr. H. W. Bates found in a jarraraca an amphisbœna larger than itself, and in another snake a lizard whose bulk exceeded its own. My Brazilian correspondent, Dr. Arthur Stradling, wrote me of a similar circumstance. He received a little Elaps lemniscatus in Maceio, which presented a singularly bloated appearance. It no doubt felt itself in a condition not favourable to rapid escape; or captivity impaired its digestion, for ‘the next morning it disgorged an amphisbœna or small serpent (it was half digested) actually longer than itself, and weighing half as much again.’
Prodigious meals engender drowsiness, and thus the Ophidia habitually repose a long while after taking food.
This habit of gorging enormous prey being one of the most striking of ophidian characteristics, it has been introduced thus early in my work, as affording opportunity for a general glance at the anatomical structure. In the next chapter we will enumerate a few other peculiar features, ere proceeding to examine in detail some of the most important organs.
CHAPTER II.
SNAKES OF FICTION AND OF FACT.