68 Animal Life 
When camping on the banks of the Acheron river (tributary of the Goulbourne, 
Victoria) my companion and I killed a great number of these venomous reptiles, for 
thereabouts they literally infested the scrub-belts bordering the water. We indulged in 
regular snake-hunting expeditions, as much to ensure our personal safety as to secure 
the beautifully striped and spotted skins, which, under the hands of skilled workers, 
furnish very handsome belts. 
It was there, tenting beneath the shadow of ti-tree scrub and lofty blue-gums, 
that I was enabled to study the habits of three of the most common snakes of 
Victoria. The Tiger-Snake—which name it derives on account of its colour and general 
markings closely resembling the stripmg of a tiger's skin—was perhaps the most 
numerous, and certainly regarded our approach with greater animosity than its near 
relatives. 
I could enumerate many instances which would amply prove that this snake, 
when wounded or even greatly provoked, recklessly risks its life, blindly oblivious to 
the possibility of resultant disaster in the all-absorbing, eager desire to strike home 
with deadly fangs that blow which seldom fails to certify the virulence of its poison. 
To one armed with a long plant stick and possessed of a fair amount of agility 
the tiger-snake falls an easy victim, for the great aversion it evinces to being 
compelled to vacate some pet position, even when persistently harrassed, offers many 
favourable opportunities for its dispatch. 
I have sometimes tested the force of a large tiger-snake’s blow by pinning the reptile 
to the ground with the butt of my rifle and placing a green sap stick within its 
reach, afterwards examining the depth of the punctures inflicted on the soft bark. On 
two occasions my leather leggings have borne the spittle and “trade-mark” of a 
tiger-snake, the result of my accidentally treading on their mottled bodies while they 
lay concealed among tussocky grass. 
It is not surprising that these reptiles are so numerous when it is taken into 
consideration that one Black Snake will sometimes give birth to as many as forty-two 
lively little youngsters at one time. Having killed a very fine specimen some years 
ago, and knowing that the handsome red bands on the belly proved it to be a female, 
I subjected the carcase to the keen edge of a dissecting-knife, thereby exposing no 
less than thirty-six perfectly-formed, healthy little snakes of a slaty hue and some 
four inches in length. Vigorous and full of energy, they immediately commenced to 
wriggle about in the grass, quite unconcerned, and apparently cognisant of the fatal 
power peculiar to them, since, with natural instinct, they struck out at any object 
which failed to find favour in their eyes. The parent snake measured six feet seven 
inches, and was possessor of a beautiful glossy skin. 
One early morning, while watching some platypuses (Onuthorhynchus paradoxus) 
disporting in the waters of a mountain creek, sliding with swift but noiseless movements 
beneath the surface only to reappear a moment afterwards where least expected, my 
attention was attracted elsewhere. Upon the lower twigs of a ti-tree bush I espied a 
dozen or more little snakes, about six inches in length, happily wriggling about from 
twig to twig and amusing themselves by striking at the trembling dewdrops which hung 
hike brilhant jewels from every leaf and stem. 
The Brown Snake, when fully grown, is usually of greater length than its black 
companion, and, on the whole, more whip-like in appearance. Nevertheless there are 
exceptions to this rule, for the biggest snake I ever killed in Victoria measured nearly 
eight feet, and its coal-black, well-glossed skin left no room for doubt regarding 
its species. 
I have had very many narrow escapes from the fangs of the brown snake, attributable, 
I conclude, principally to the wonderful adaptation of its colour and faint markings to 
