THE RATTLESNAKE. 101 



will seldom attempt to bite, and if it does strike a foe, the poison is comparatively mild in its 

 effects. But after August, and before it seeks its winter quarters, the Rattlesnake is not only 

 more fierce than at any other time of the year, but the venom seems to be of more fearful 

 intensity, inflicting wounds from which nothing escapes with life. 



The rapidity of the effects depends necessarily on the part which is bitten. Should 

 the points of the teeth wound a moderately large vein or an artery, the venom courses 

 swiftly through the blood, and the victim dies in a few minutes. But if, perchance, the 

 tooth should pierce some fleshy and muscular part of the body, the poison does not have 

 such rapid effect, and the injured person may be saved by the timely administration of 

 powerful remedies. There seems, indeed, to be no one specific for the bite of this reptile, as 

 the effects vary according to the individual who happens to be bitten, and the state of health 

 in which the sufferer may be at the time. Immediate suction, however, and the unsparing 

 use of the knife appear to be the most efficacious means of neutralizing the poison, and strong 

 ammonia and oil have been employed with good results. Catesby, in writing about this 

 reptile, remarks that he has known instances where death has occurred within two minutes 

 after the infliction of the bite. 



The food of the Rattlesnake consists of rats, mice, reptiles, and small birds, the latter 

 of which creatures it is said to obtain by the exercise of a mysterious power termed 

 fascination, the victim being held, as it were, by the gaze of its destroyer, and compelled 

 to remain in the same spot until the Serpent can approach sufficiently near to seize it. It 

 is even said that the Rattlesnake can coil itself at the foot of a tree, and by the mere power of 

 its gaze, force a squirrel or bird to descend and fling itself into the open mouth waiting to 

 receive it. 



These phenomena have been strongly asserted by persons who say that they have seen 

 them, and are violently denied by other persons who have never witnessed the process, and 

 therefore believe that the circumstances could not have happened. For my own part I cer- 

 tainly 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 manner 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, xhe 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 myste- 

 rious influence 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 volition 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 



