n JUNGLE PEACE 



coast four hundred and twenty years ago. I 

 forgot the shore with its memories and its pres- 

 ent lush growth and heat. For in the eddies of 

 the wharf piles swirled strange things from the 

 inland hush. First a patch of coarse grass, 

 sailing out to sea, upright and slowly circling. 

 On the stems I could distinguish unwilling 

 travelers — crickets, spiders, and lesser wingless 

 fry. Half -hollow logs drifted past, some deep 

 and water-soaked, others floating high, with their 

 upper parts quite dry. On such a one I saw a 

 small green snake coiled as high as possible, and, 

 serpent-like, waiting quietly for what fate 

 should bring. 



And now came an extraordinary sight — an- 

 other serpent, a huge one, a great water-con- 

 strictor long dead, entangled in some brush, half 

 caught firm and half dangling in the water. 

 Attending were two vultures, ravenous and 

 ready to risk anything for a meal. And they 

 were risking a good deal, for each time they 

 alighted, the brush and snake began to sink and 

 allowed them time for only one or two frantic 

 pecks before they were in water up to their 

 bodies. They then had laboriously to take to 

 flight, beating the water for the first few 



