Snakes: Curiosities and Wonders of Serpent Life

by Catherine Cooper Hopley

The activity of these tiny creatures was marvellous. If meddled with, they seemed as if agitated by a galvanic battery. Their whole length vibrated with nervous irritability. In colour they were black beneath and a silvery white above, with a spot of black on the head, and a fine, thread-like line of black all down their back. The head was the largest part, the body tapering gradually to the tail. They were in length about 2-1/2 inches. Very bright black eyes had they, and manners like the adults, pressing their head against the hand, or wherever they were, with the instinct to burrow and hide. Their silvery aspect, together with their mobile susceptibility, was truly mercurial. To hold or retain them was simply impossible; as well try to restrain a stream of quicksilver. In a fury of agitation they would leap and turn over and twist themselves away like eels. Flaccid and tender and apparently boneless, the difficulty of taking up and restraining such shreds of vitality was no less difficult than interesting. The wee, half-matured fury that rushed impetuously into the world spent itself in restless efforts to dive into the earth. It grew gradually more feeble, and died the third day. Altogether there were eight or more. Three were hatched before I saw them, the rest were produced in the membranous ‘shell,’ and in all the shells the remains of the yolk were seen. A remarkable feature was that these remains of egg all vanished in a manner that wholly baffled my investigations. The yellow yolk was too palpable to become absorbed in the moss and sand; it could not have escaped notice. With the greatest care I searched and examined every spray of moss, every blade of grass, over and over again, but could discern no trace; neither the skin nor any slimy glaire, nor one tinge of yolk, nor any globulous collections of moisture whatever. Blackie did not eat them; for she remained at the bottom of the box while the cares of maternity were upon her, never moving. There was no possible doubt about her being the mother of the brood. Her companions in captivity came to the surface as usual during an hour or two of sunshine, and then retired underground.

In removing the moss that first day to look for Blackie, I saw by an enlargement at the lower part of the body that her family was still increasing; and if such a creature can appeal, the look with which she feebly raised her head as if to entreat not to be disturbed, was one not to be disregarded. So I left her unmolested the whole day, and indeed until she began to show herself and move about like the rest, coming up if enticed by sunshine, and retiring early below, as they all did daily.

I communicated this interesting event to Mr. Frank Buckland at the time, and to the editor of a zoological journal, inviting both to inspect the interesting family. I also sent a short account of the November brood to Land and Water. Mr. Buckland was, I believe, absent from town; and my MS. (now before me) was returned from Land and Water for ‘want of space.’

Evidently the November brood were after all but sorry little slow-worms, beneath the notice of scientific eyes, and unduly endowed with imaginary importance in the estimation of their enthusiastic guardian!

In my careful examination of the contents of the cage next day, in order to ascertain the chance of yet other silvery shreds of life, I observed a little dry, globular substance, which had a somewhat suspicious look. It was firm to the touch, and on breaking it, showed a veiny sort of conglomerate appearance, as of layers or convolutions. Several of these hard, dry masses I afterwards found, all on being broken presenting a similar appearance. Then it suddenly occurred to me that they must be dried-up eggs of the other slow-worm, and that she must have deposited them some time previously. The surface of sand was easily accounted for by the frequent turning over and stirring up of the soft rubbish in the cage. At first thinking only of Blackie, and being satisfied that these singular little masses contained no life, I threw them away; when, too late, resolving to keep some and investigate their nature, only one more could be found; but this one was preserved in spirits of wine, together with two or three of the tiny slow-worms. The female that conjecturally laid them had frequently got out of the box and sustained many falls to the floor; which, even had other circumstances been propitious, might sufficiently account for the destruction of embryo life. But in addition to accidents were the extremely cold and sunless summer and the ten weeks of disturbed and comfortless existence; and then the green lizard was for ever scrambling about and scratching the earth in all directions. He alone was enough to make a conglomerate of the unmatured eggs.

The remaining one of the supposed eggs was put aside with other specimens, and almost forgotten till the present time. Looking at it now after it has been two years in the spirits of wine, I find the sandy surface washed off and deposited as sediment, and in a partly torn and ruptured membrane behold a perfect little Anguis fragilis quite as big as those others which were hatched. Whether this happens to be a more perfect embryo than those that were hardened, or whether it has grown softer and more distinguishable through being in liquid, it is impossible to say, except that here it is. There were, then, two broods, as had been anticipated, and in both cases eight or nine. The precise date of the hard eggs is not clear; probably they were produced first. The warmth of the room at length did for Blackie what the sun had failed to do; and even then her young ones were not fully matured. The other one, through many vicissitudes, in common with her big cousin Anaconda, produced bad eggs. Truly are not these two—or say only one—is not Blackie’s case a verification of what the author of British Reptiles affirmed of these slow-worms: ‘There is no doubt that the duration of the period of gestation must depend on the temperature to which the animal is exposed,’ even if this be not another instance of retarded deposition.

A word more, in conclusion, about the tiny progeny.

To the touch having no more bone or substance than an earth-worm of the same size, their ability to burrow seemed marvellous. When placed in the sunshine—such as there was of it—they basked in apparent satisfaction, retiring betimes and working themselves underground to the depth of four or five inches. Often two or more were missing, when every scrap of earth and moss had to be spread on a newspaper and minutely separated to search for them. Indeed, I have never felt certain whether the family originally consisted of eight, nine, or ten, having a strong suspicion that their grown-up relatives or the lizard had supposed them to be worms placed there for their express delectation. And when, one day, the number was reduced to six, and the green lizard looked unusually plump and impudent, the young fry were quickly transferred to a separate home, a glass bowl, through which they could be watched without molestation, and up which they could not possibly crawl. The smallest of worms (the weather being warm again) and a cockle-shell of water, the softest of sand and the prettiest of mosses, ministered to their comfort; but though they grew very slightly and their colour became more defined, I do not think they partook of food or water during the whole six weeks that they were thus watched and cared for. One from the first day was always livelier than the rest. It was one of those that had been hatched first or possibly born alive, being perfect, and with the navel closed when I had first discovered it. Through the glass we could see them deep down in the earth, and so close to the side that they could nearly always be easily counted. Not at all sociable were the little ones, one here, another there, as if getting as far apart as their home permitted. In the evening, if placed on the table near the lamp, they seemed to mistake that for sunlight, and would come up and ramble restlessly about on the surface for several hours. Their vitality was amazing.

One evening when showing them to a friend and permitting their antics upon the table, one of them was suddenly and mysteriously missing. We had carefully guarded the edge of the table; indeed, they were well in the centre of it, and it seemed impossible for them to fall off. We searched the carpet, notwithstanding, and with most careful scrutiny; and finally deciding that the truant must have been replaced with some moss unobserved, gave up the search.