My proposed book was, however, simply to recount some adventures among the snakes which were encountered in our American rambles. It was intended for the amusement of juvenile readers, and to supplement the little work about my pet birds[1], which had met with so kind and encouraging a reception.
But in order to merely recount an adventure with a snake, some knowledge of the reptile is essential. One must, at least, be sure of the correct name of the ‘horrid thing’ which lifted its ‘menacing head’ a few feet in front of us; such local names as ‘black snake’ and ‘moccasin snake’ affording no satisfactory information.
Nor were hasty references to books much more satisfactory. Mr. P. H. Gosse had been over the same ground, gathering many interesting items of natural history; but in his Letters from Alabama I could not decide on my moccasin snake. From this and his other works, and then from the authors quoted by him, I discovered only that there were many ‘black snakes,’ some deadly, others harmless. The same with the ‘moccasin’ snake, which was now of this colour, now of that. While one writer expatiates on the beauty of the ‘emerald snake,’ a ‘living gem, which the dark damsels of southern climes wind round their necks and arms,’ another describes snakes of emerald green which are dreaded and avoided. One traveller tells of a ‘coral snake’ whose bite is fatal within an hour; while elsewhere a ‘coral snake’ is petted and handled. Equally perplexing were the ‘carpet snakes,’ ‘whip snakes,’ ‘Jararacas,’ and ‘brown snakes.’
Nor were names the only puzzle to unravel; for in almost every other particular writers on snakes are at variance.
Those ‘moccasin snakes’ in Virginia were venomous, I was sure, having known of accidents from their bite. Hoping to become enlightened as to their true name and character, I repaired to the Zoological Gardens to ascertain if they were known there. Yes; there were several together in one cage, labelled ‘Moccasins’ (Tropidonotus fasciatus) ‘from America;’ but to identify them with the one in Virginia, of which I had seen only a short portion from a distance, was impossible. To add to the perplexity, Holland the keeper assured me these were ‘quite harmless.’
‘But are you sure these are harmless snakes? They are poisonous in America.’
‘Well, miss, they have bitten my finger often enough for me to know,’ returned Holland.
‘Then there must be two kinds of moccasin snakes,’ I argued, ‘for the others are extremely venomous;’ and I related my Virginia experiences, and that I had known of a horse bitten by one that had died in an hour or so, fearfully swollen.
‘They have never hurt me,’ persisted Holland.
Subsequently I discovered that in the United States this name moccasin is a common vernacular, first and chiefly applied to a really dangerous viper, Ancistrodon pugnax or piscivorus, the one, most likely, that we saw in the wood; and secondly, to a number of harmless snakes which are supposed to be dangerous, and of which those at the Gardens, Tropidonotus fasciatus, are among the latter. Thus at the very outset the puzzles began.