M. Lenz placed his snakes among the cows in order to test the foolish belief that obtains in some countries that snakes will ‘suck’ the udders; but of course, and for similar reasons, even could such an achievement be possible, the snakes attempted no such thing.
His snakes were strict members of a temperance society also, for not even wine could tempt them to drink, though this and other liquids were placed within reach to entice their taste. Not so Pliny’s snakes, for he would have us believe that they show ‘a great liking for wine,’ whenever an opportunity presented itself for their tasting it!
But how came the idea to obtain that snakes suck cows,—a fact so frequently asserted by the older naturalists? One old writer goes so far as to state that a certain American snake ‘causes cows to give forth bloody milk.’ And yet, to the thinking or observing person, the origin of the belief may be easily accounted for. That snakes have partiality for milk no longer admits of a doubt; that they like warmth and shelter is an equally established fact. Therefore, they find their way into cattle-sheds, and hide in the straw or any snug corner, possibly even among the recumbent cattle; and, being there, their ever busy exploring tongues discover a savour of milk, and the snake is led by this intelligent tongue to the very fountain of their favourite drop. The irritated cow would then naturally stir or kick, and endeavour to shake off the strange intruder, who, in its turn alarmed or angered, would bite the udder, and fetch blood. This, in the dark ages of natural history, and during the period when the serpent was invested with all manner of cruel and revolting wilfulness, would suffice to give rise to the belief that has so long prevailed. The rat snake (Ptyas mucosus) and the Clothonia of India are ‘said’ to suck the teats of cows; so also are the ‘hoop snake’ and several other American species, which, with their climbing propensities, may sometimes twine themselves about the legs of cattle, and thus reach the udders, where persons have discovered them. It is just possible that the snakes may get the teat into their mouths, and advance upon it, with the intention of swallowing it, not knowing that it was only a teat, with a cow inconveniently attached to it, and not some small and more manageable prey.
Among the American milk-drinking snakes is Coluber eximius, known as the ‘milk snake,’ one of the dairy frequenters, which is said to seek milk with avidity. This snake is mentioned by De Kay,[21] Emmons,[22] and Holbrooke,[23] who all describe it as being very beautiful and ‘innocent’ (except in the eyes of the farmers’ wives). It is of a pale, pearly white, sometimes tinged with pink, and with rich chocolate spots on its back. The Racer, of egg-stealing notoriety, is also a sad milk thief, and, like our own little ring snake, has been known to retrace its way into dairies. Such depredations were more frequent formerly when the snakes were more numerous. Of the Racer, Lawson[24] says, ‘This Whipster haunts the Dairies of careless Housewives, and never misses to skim the Milk clear of the Cream.’
The same love of warmth which takes the reptiles among cattle, guides them into dwellings, particularly during the night; and in hot countries where nursing-women of the poorer classes lie exposed, snakes have been found upon their breasts, and absurd stories have been told of their sucking the teats of women. In India, Australia, and America, such stories are common.
After all, it does not seem surprising that snakes should like milk. Being carnivorous by nature, they would at once detect an animal flavour in the liquid by the agency of their sensitive tongue.
Now turning to India, we find that the love of snakes for milk is mentioned by numerous writers on the manners and customs of the Hindûs, as well as by travellers and naturalists. Balfour[25] tells us ‘when a snake discovers how to get at the eggs and milk in a larder, no native will on any account kill it, because it is regarded as the good genius of the house.’ And again, ‘that the cobra is fed with milk in some of the temples where it is worshipped.’
Dr. Shortt of Madras keeps a man to attend to his cobras, and finds they thrive excellently on sour milk, which is administered once in ten or twelve days.[26] ‘Snakes feed on eggs and milk,’ says Sir J. Fayrer.
When we read similar facts mentioned incidentally, and with no especial object, we may give them credence even more than if a prejudiced writer were endeavouring to prove such or such a thing. For instance, during the visit of H.R.H. the Prince of Wales to India, the exhibition of snakes and snake-charming formed a not unimportant item in the programme, and furnished many columns of cobra performances and cobra traditions to the papers. More than one of the journalists unintentionally corroborated what Balfour and other writers tell us about the ‘good luck’ of having a cobra in the chuppur of the hut, the fearlessness with which the children regard their ‘uncle,’ as they call it, and their care in placing milk and eggs for it each evening.
But I am reminded of a singular case which came to me through a personal acquaintance from India who was present at the time.