I have witnessed exactly a similar plan pursued by a large number of Ganges crocodiles, which had been lying or swimming about all day in front of my tent, at the mouth of a small stream which led from some large inland lakes to the Ganges. Towards dusk, at the same moment every one of them left the bank on which they were lying, or the deep water in which they were swimming, and formed a line across the stream, which was about twenty yards wide. They had to form a double line, as there was not room for all in a single line. They then swam slowly up the shallow stream, driving the fish before them, and I saw two or three fish caught before they disappeared.
An account of reptile psychology would be incomplete without some reference to the alleged facts of snakes charming other animals by 'fascination,' and being themselves charmed by the arts of music, &c. The testimony on both subjects is conflicting, and especially with regard to the fascination of other animals by snakes. Thus:—
Mr. Pennant says that this snake (rattle-snake) will frequently lie at the bottom of a tree on which a squirrel is seated. He fixes his eyes on the animal, and from that moment it cannot escape; it begins a doleful outcry, which is so well known that a passer-by, on hearing it, immediately knows that a snake is present. The squirrel runs up the tree a little way, comes down again, then goes up, and afterwards comes still lower. The snake continues at the bottom of the tree with its eyes fixed on the squirrel, and his attention is so entirely taken up, that a person accidentally approaching may make a considerable noise without so much as the snake turning about. The squirrel comes lower, and at last leaps down to the snake, whose mouth is already distended for its reception. Le Vaillant confirms this fascinating terror by a scene he witnessed. He saw on the branch of a tree a species of shrike, trembling as if in convulsions, and at the distance of nearly four feet, on another branch, a large snake that was lying with outstretched neck and fiery eyes, gazing steadily at the poor animal. The agony of the bird was so great that it was deprived of the power of moving away; and when one of the party killed the snake, it (i.e. the bird) was found dead upon the spot—and that entirely from fear; for, on examination, it appeared not to have received the slightest wound. The same traveller adds that a short time afterwards he observed a small mouse in similar agonising convulsions, about two yards from a snake, whose eyes were intently fixed upon it; and on frightening away the reptile, and taking up the mouse, it expired in his hand.[142]
Many other observations, more or less similar, might be quoted; but, on the other hand, Sir Joseph Fayrer tells me that 'fascination is only fright;' and this appears to be the opinion of all persons who have had the opportunity of looking into the subject in a scientific manner. The truth probably is that small animals are occasionally much alarmed by the sight of a snake looking at them, and as a consequence of this more easily fall a prey. In some cases, it is likely enough, strong terror so unnerves the animal as to make it behave in the manner which the witnesses describe; in making half-palsied efforts to escape, it may actually fall or draw nearer to the object of its dread. Perhaps, therefore, Dr. Barton, of Philadelphia, is a little too severe on previous observers when he says that—
The report of this fascinating property has had its rise in nothing more than the fears and cries of birds and other animals in the protection of their nests. . . . . The result of not a little attention has taught me that there is but one wonder in the business—the wonder that the story should ever have been believed by any man of understanding and observation.
But, be this as it may, it is certainly remarkable, as Sir J. Fayrer in his letter to me observes, 'how little fear some animals show until the moment that they are seized and struck.'
As for snake-charming, the facts seem to be that cobras and other serpents are attracted by the sound of a pipe to creep out of their hiding-places, when they are captured and tamed. It is certain that the fangs are not always drawn, and also that from the first moment of capture, before there has been time for any process of training, a real snake-charmer is able to make the reptile 'dance.' Thus, for instance, Sir E. Tennent publishes the following letter from Mr. Reyne. After describing all his precautions to ensure that the snake-charmer had no tamed snakes concealed about his person, Mr. Reyne proceeds to tell how he made the man accompany him to the jungle, where, attracted by the music of a pipe which the man played, a large cobra came from an ant-hill which Mr. Reyne knew it to occupy:—
On seeing the man it tried to escape, but he caught it by the tail and kept swinging it round until we reached the bungalow. He then made it dance, but before long it bit him above the knee. He immediately bandaged the leg above the bite and applied a snake-stone to the wound to extract the poison. He was in great pain for a few minutes, but after that it gradually went away, the stone falling off just before he was relieved.[143]
Thus the only remarkable thing about the charming of a freshly caught snake seems to be that the charmer is able to make the animal 'dance'—for the fact of the snake approaching the unfamiliar sound of music is not in itself any more remarkable than a fish approaching the unfamiliar sight of a lantern. It does not, however, appear that this dancing is anything more than some series of gestures or movements which may be merely the expressions, more or less natural, of uneasiness or alarm. Anything else that charmed snakes may do is probably the result of training; for there is no doubt that cobras admit of being tamed, and even domesticated. Thus, for instance, Major Skinner, writing to Sir E. Tennent, says:—
In one family near Negombo, cobras are kept as protectors, in the place of dogs, by a wealthy man who has always large sums of money in his house. But this is not a solitary case of the kind. . . . . The snakes glide about the house, a terror to the thieves, but never attempting to harm the inmates.[144]