The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1889-10-26
THE RATTLBSNAKR,


Poison of Serpents," in the August
Century, we quote the following:
Let us observe what happens when
the rattlesnake means mischief. He
throws himself into a spiral, and a.
bout one-third of his length, carry
ing his head, rises from the coil and
stands upright, The attitude is fine
and warlike, and artists who attempt
to portray it always fail. He does
not pursue, he waits. Little animals
he scorns unless he is hungry, so
that the mouse or the toad he leaves
for days unnoticed in his cage. Lar
ger or NOISY creatures alarm him.
Then his head and neck are thrown
far back, his mouth is opened wide,
the fang held firmly erect, and with
an abrubt swiftness, for which his
ordinary motions prepare one but
little, he strikes once and is back on
guard again vigilent and brave. The
blow is stab, and is given by throw
ing the head forward, while the half
coils below it are Strengthened out to
lengtheH the neck and give power to
the motions which drive the fangs
into the opponents flesh; as they
enter, the temporal muscle closes the
lower jaw on the part struck, and
thus forces the sharp fang deeper in.
1t is thrust aided by bite. AT this
moment the poison duct is opened
by the relaxation of the muscle which
surrounds it, and the same muscle
which shuts the jaw squeczes the
gland, and drives its venom through
the duct and hollow fang into the
bitten part.
In so complicated a series of acts
there is often failure. The tooth
strikes on tough skin and doubles
back or fails to enter, or the serpent
misjudges distance and falls short
and may squirt the venom four or
five feet in the air, doing no harm.
| had curious experience of this
kind in which snake eight feet six
inches long threw a teaspoonful or
more of poison athwart my forehead
1t missed my eyes by an inch or two.
| have had many narrow escapes,
but this was the grimest of all. An
inch lower would have cost me my
sight and probably my life.
A snake will turn and strike from
any posture, but the coil is the atti.
tude always assumed when possible.
The coil acts as an anchor and ena.
bles the animal to shake its fangs
loose from the wound. A snake can
rarely strike beyond half its length.
If both fangs enter, the hurt is doub-
ly dangerous, because the dose OF
venom is doubled. AT times a fang
is left in the flesh, but it does not
trouble the serpent's powers as a
poisoner, since numberless teeth lie
ready to become firmly fixed in its
place, and both fangs are never lost
together. The nervous mechanism
which controls the act of striking,
seems to be in the spinal cord, for if
we cut off snakes head and then
pinch its tail, the stump of the neck
returs and with some accuracy hits
the hand of the experimenter-if he
has the nerve to hold on. Few men
have. l have not. A little Irish
man who took care of my laboratory
astonished me by coolly sustaining
this test. He did it by closing his
eyes and so shutting out for a mo-
ment the too suggestive view of the
returning stump. Snakes have al
ways seemed to me averse to striking
and they have been on the whole
much maligned.
Any cool, quiet person moving
slowly and steadily may pick up and
handle gently most venomous ser
pents. l fancy, however, that the
vipers and the copperheads are un-
certain pets. Mr.. Thompson, the
snake keeper at the Philadelphia
Geological, handles his serpents with
impunity; but one day having drop
ped some little moccasins few days
old down his sleeve, while he carried
their mamma in hand, one Of the ba-
bies bit him and made an ugly
would. At present, the snake. staff
is used to handle snakes.
| saw one October, in Tangiers,
what l had long desired to observe,
a snake charmer. Most of his
snakes were harmless; but he refus-
ed, with well-acted horror, to per-
NIT me to take hold of them. He
had also two large brown vipers;
these he handled with care, but |
saw at once that they were kept ex-
hausted of their venom by having
been daily teased into biting on
bundle of rags. tied to stick. They
were too tired to be dangerous. |
have often seen snakes in this state.
After three or four fruitless acts of
instructive use of their venom they
give up, and seem to become indif-
ferent to approaches, and even to
rough handling.
THE PICKPOOKET'S FATE.