"HE COILED AROUND MY ARM."
It was a month before the regular time for the black snake to shed its skin, but it was evident that this interesting event was about to take place. I put some rough rocks in the cage, and the snake pulled himself between them in such a way as to pull off the old skin. Before this, the snake was totally blind. He shed the skin over his eyes, and his sight was restored. Shortly after he had shed his skin he glided to the front of the cage and opened his mouth. I took this to mean food, and gave him a frog, which he swallowed. After this, whenever he was hungry, he would look at me with his mouth open. This snake was six feet and two inches in length, and large accordingly. His muscular power I had tested, and had found it to correspond to his size.
It is singular how many persons there are that think a snake's tongue is a stinger. My snake would run his tongue through the wire mesh, and sometimes I would touch it with a finger. At such times, the most of the visitors present would cry: "Look out, he'll sting you!"
My snake proved to be fond of music. Evenings I would play on the flute, while he would come to the front of his cage and listen. Some tunes would excite him so he would glide about the cage. The Swiss Waltz would always set him a-going. Shrill, discordant notes would send him to the darkest spot in his cage, where he would coil and remain so quiet as to appear lifeless. On the approach of cold weather the snake became torpid, and he was killed.
Some years, snakes, of all kinds indigenous to this climate, are numerous enough to destroy the nests of the small birds. Therefore I kill the snakes that are bird-hunters, because I prefer birds to snakes. I have found that some snakes, that come to my dooryard for my pets, are so crafty as to make it nearly impossible to kill them. A big black snake often came down the hill to the cabin, and when he had reached a boulder he would look around to see if I was there writing. This snake had a saucy, independent way of looking at me, as much as to say, "Are you the hermit?" A movement on my part toward a club sent the snake into the bushes. Throughout one season I tried my best to kill that black snake without success. The next year he did not appear. Very few snakes came out of winter quarters that spring.
Another black snake had determined to swallow a pet toad. The toad was a monster, and had escaped several times, but his hind legs were badly scarred. The toad would come to me for protection. Usually he would hop on to my feet when pursued. The snake was too crafty, to come near enough for me to use my snake-club. I was telling some visitors from the city about the toad and snake, when one young lady expressed a strong desire to see a live snake. While we were talking, I heard the toad cry out, and I knew that the snake was after him. I told my visitors to keep quiet and they would see the toad come to me for protection. The young lady that wanted to see a live snake gathered up her skirts and fled down the old highway. The toad came in sight, dragging the snake, which was clinging to a hind leg. When the snake saw us, he dropped his hold but did not retreat. The toad hopped on to my feet, nearly exhausted. The snake must have been made bold by hunger, for he made a rush for the toad. My snake-club was near at hand, and he was soon killed. The young lady that fled would not return until fully convinced that the snake was dead. She did not see the snake when he was alive, for she fled when I said one was coming.
A garter-snake made a home beneath my cabin. He was too small to injure birds, so I did not disturb him. He became very tame during the summer. His hole was under the door of my cabin. I could sit in the doorway, and when he was passing in or out, he would stop for me to rub his head. The second year he had increased in size. There was a chestnut-sided warbler's nest near the cabin, containing young birds. I heard cries of distress from the old birds, and when I investigated, found the garter-snake trying to get at the nest. I struck him with a small stick, and he hid in the weeds. That blow severed his friendship for me. If he returned to the cabin and saw me in the doorway, he would retreat until the coast was clear. Twice more I caught him at the birds' nest. He escaped each time. He must have come to the conclusion that I was protecting the birds for my own eating, for he left them after that. The next year he ate a pet frog and robbed several bird's nests. He had moved to an old stone wall, and did most of his hunting by night. He tried to loot a catbird's nest, but the birds gave the alarm, and the moon helped me to find the marauder. One blow and it was all over. It would have been pleasant to study this snake, but I could not allow my pet birds to be so cruelly persecuted.