FASCINATION. 103 



part I certainly incline to the theory of fascination, thinking that the power exists, and 

 is occasionally employed, but under peculiar conditions. That any creature may be 

 suddenly paralyzed by fear at the sight of a deadly foe is too well known to require 

 argument, and it is therefore highly probable that a bird or squirrel, which could easily 

 escape from the Serpent's jaws by its superior agility, might be so struck with sudden 

 dread on seeing its worst enemy that it would be unable to move until the reptile had 

 seized it. 



Birds, especially, are most sensitive in their nature, and can be fascinated in a man- 

 ner by any one who chooses to try the experiment. Let any bird be taken, laid on its 

 back, and the finger pointed at its eyes. The whole frame of the creature will begin 

 to stiffen, the legs will be drawn up, and if the hand be gently removed, the bird will 

 lie motionless on its back for any length of time. I always employ this method of 

 managing my canaries when I give them their periodical dressing of insect-destroying 

 powder. I shake the powder well into their feathers, pour a small heap of it on a sheet 

 of paper, lay the bird in the powder, hold my finger over its eyes for a moment, and 

 leave it lying there while I catch and prepare another bird for the same process. There 

 is another way of fascinating the bird, equally simple. Put it on a slate or dark board, 

 draw a white chalk line on the board, set the bird longitudinally upon the line, put its 

 beak on the white mark, and you may go away for hours, and when you return the bird 

 will be found fixed in the same position, there held by some subtle and mysterious in- 

 fluence which is as yet unexplained. 



Thus far there is no difficulty in accepting the theory of fascination, but the idea of 

 a moral compulsion on the part of the Snake, and a perforced obedience on the part of 

 its victim, is so strange that it has met with very great incredulity. Still, although 

 strange, it is not quite incredible. We all know how the immediate presence of danger 

 causes a reckless desire to see and do the worst, regardless of the consequences, and 

 heeding only the overpowering impulse that seems to move the body without the voli- 

 tion of the mind. There are many persons who cannot stand on any elevated spot 

 without feeling so irresistible a desire of flinging themselves into the depths below, 

 that they dare not even stand near an open window or walk near the edge of a cliff. 

 It may be that the squirrel or bird, seeing its deadly enemy below, is so mentally over- 

 balanced that it is forced to approach the foe against its own will, and is drawn nearer 

 to those deadly fangs by the very same impulse that would urge a human being to 

 jump over the edge of a precipice or from the top of a lofty building. 



Every squirrel or every bird may not succumb to the same influence, just as every 

 human being does not yield to the insane desire of jumping from heights, and it is 

 probable that a Rattlesnake may coil itself under a tree and look all day at the squirrels 

 sporting upon the branches, or the birds flitting among the boughs, without inducing 

 one of them to become an involuntary victim. Yet it is possible that out of the many 

 hundreds that could see the Serpent, one would be weak-minded enough to yield to 

 the subtle influence, and instead of running away, find itself forced to approach nearer 

 and nearer the fearful reptile. 



Some persons acknowledge the fact that the bird approaches the Snake, and is then 

 snapped up, but explain it in a different manner. They say that the bird is engaged 

 in mobbing or threatening the Snake, just as it might follow and buffet a hawk, an 

 owl, or a raven, and in its eagerness approaches so closely that the Snake is able to 

 secure it by a sudden dart. Such is very likely to be the case in many instances, as 

 the little birds will often hover about a poisonous Snake, and, by their fluttering wings 

 and shrieking cries, call attention to the venomous reptile. But the many descriptions 

 of the fascinating process are too precise to allow of such a supposition in the particu- 

 lar instances which are mentioned. 



Even the common Snake of England can exercise a similar power. I have seen one 

 of these Snakes in chase of a frog, and the intended victim, although a large and 

 powerful specimen of its race, fully able to escape by a succession of leaps such as it 

 would employ if chased by a human being, was only crawling slowly and painfully like 

 a toad, its actions reminding one of those horrid visions of the night when the dreamer 

 finds himself running or fighting for his life, and cannot move faster than a walk, or 



