July 21, 1887.] 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



881 



the chicks that died in the shell had liTed in their narrow 

 prison at least a full day beyond the time when they 

 should have been set free. This was evident from the 

 fact that not only had the yolk been entirely absorbed 

 into the body of the chick, but a, portion of it, in each 

 case, had been digested and passed off in feces, which 

 were found in the bottom of the shell. When the hen 

 found these chicks unable to extricate themselves, she 

 went to work and carefully removed all the shell from 

 the upper half of each egg, picking it off in pieces scarcely 

 larger than the flattened head of a pin. But when this 

 was done the tough membrane contracted about the little 

 innocent, gripping him like a vise and crushing out his 

 life before it had fairly begun. I am thoroughly con- 

 vinced that at the time I last saw these two chicks alive 

 they could have been saved by delicately cutting apart 

 the membrane so that they could struggle out into the 

 world. And these two, with the one that did hatch, 

 would have been three, etc., etc. 



This difficulty of the '"drying up" of the eggs of game 

 birds in "assisted" hatching is one that is liable to occur. 

 My own theory is that the eggs of the grouse and quail 

 being disproportionately small for the size of these birds 

 (Nature's provision to aid their concealment), are rela- 

 tively deficient in their watery part, and hence if the 

 evaporation resulting from the incubating process is not 

 properly made up by the reabsorption of sm-rounding 

 moisture, the membrane about the chick adheres to it, 

 and being unnaturally strong cannot be broken. At least 

 two cases have come under my observation where gentle- 

 men who had attempted to hatch quail found that the 

 chicks had perished in this way, and thereupon decided 

 that it was not possible. Having a hen quail sitting in 

 my coops three years ago, I was so afraid of a similar 

 miscarriage that I was in the habit of turning the lawn 

 hose on the nest every day or two. As a consequence it 

 was kept so damp and cool that the eggs were twenty- 

 three days in hatching, but of the entire twelve every 

 single one brought out a chick. 



The grouse nest of which I write, however, was in a 

 bunch of oak leaves on the ground, and being in a com- 

 paratively shady place seemed not to need any artificial 

 moistening. But it had a southeast exposure where the 

 sun shone warm during the greater part of the forenoon, 

 and the coop was partly roofed over so that the rain could 

 not fall on the ground about the nest. It was too dry. 



Speaking of handling and examining the eggs, I did 

 more or less of this from the time that the first hen began 

 laying (always very carefully, of course), and I could not 

 see that it made any difference with the birds in their 

 laying or sitting, or in the hatchiug of the eggs. The 

 second hen was so tame that after she began sitting she 

 would allow me to take the eggs from under her without 

 leaving the nest, and both of them would carefully re- 

 place in the nest with their bills an egg laid down before 

 them, very much indeed after the manner of the common 

 hen. 



But the first hen manifested an intelligence during the 

 hatching of her eggs which was most remarkable, and 

 which would seem to partake more of reason than of mere 

 instinct. The first chick that failed to hatch was re- 

 moved by the hen as soon as it died to the limit of the 

 coop furthest from the nest. The next day another dead 

 chick was removed in the same way and to the same 

 place. How the removal was effected I am unable to say, 

 but the coop was locked and no other bird or animal but 

 the sitting hen had access to it. Yet the two last chicks 

 that died in the shell after or about the time that the live 

 chfrk was hatched were not carried from the nest at all. 

 The hen was apparently unwilling to leave the nest for. 

 such purpose the instant there were any living chicks to 

 care for. Can anything more nearly approach human 

 uitelligence than this, and not be human? 



After they had fairly "settled down to business," the 

 grouse hens proved the most faithful and persistent of 

 sitters. Yet they were equally regular in leaving the 

 nest about the same hour each day for their feed of whole 

 Indian corn, with which they were liberally supplied, 

 remaining away from the egg never more than twelve or 

 fifteen minutes. When the first hen had finished all the 

 fertile eggs, having no chicks to care for, she still adhered 

 to the nest which held a few barren eggs. For the pur- 

 pose of testing her "staying qualities,* I allowed her to 

 remain, and when she was finally broken up, she had 

 been sitting continuously for thirty-six days. The second 

 hen was on her nest for twenty-eight days continuously. 

 It is probable that they would both have been sitting up 

 to this time, but that they were forcibly removed to the 

 adjoining coop, and shut out from the nestsi After a 

 lapse of eighteen hours, they were readmitted to the nests 

 and at once resumed their places as usual. In the course 

 of the day they were again removed and after being shut 

 out for twenty-four horns, again admitted to the nests. 

 The same result followed in each case, although in the 

 meantime all the eggs had been removed. They were 

 finally shut out altogether. 



But there still remain the fertile eggs under the second 

 hen to be accounted for. Their story is soon told. By 

 some mishap this hen managed to break one of her eggs 

 in the nest after she had been sitting some ten days. The 

 remaining eggs were carefully cleaned as soon as the 

 mischief was discovered, but for that or some other rea- 

 son the development of the embryo stopped, and the 

 partly formed chicks died. The hen. remained on these 

 eggs four full weeks, but when the shells were broken at 

 the end of that time it was evident that the chicks had 

 never come any where near maturity. 



This then is the result of my second year's experiments 

 looking to the domestication of the "ruffed grouse. It 

 would seem as though they have demonstrated conclu- 

 sively that the breeding of these grouse in confinement is 

 not only possible, but practicable, and that so far as tried 

 they adapt themselves with most readiness to the changed 

 conditions resulting from captivity. And while all at- 

 tempts at rearing grouse chicks under foster mothers ap- 

 pear to have failed, I am reasonably sure that chicks 

 hatched under a tamed hen of then- own species would at 

 once take their cue from her and become easily accus- 

 tomed to confinement and the sight of man. As for my- 

 self, I am not altogether unconsolable, ha,ving actually 

 hatched a live grouse chick under a grouse hen, and from 

 eggs fertilized and laid in captivity. Another year I shall 

 hope to go on with my efforts, should nothing interfere. 



I cannot close this report (which is written for the pur- 

 pose of aiding any one who may follow up these attempts) 

 without acknowledging my obligations to Mr. George E. 

 Wright, of Wilkesbarre, Pa., (to whom I am indebted for 



birds) to Mr. C. H. Ames of Boston, Mr. Eugene Powers 

 of Cortland, N. Y., Mr. J. L. Davison of Lockport, N. 

 Y., .Judge E. D. Potter and Mr. W. O. Dakin of Toledo, 

 the editor of Forest and Stream, and other gentlemen 

 who have taken a lively interest in these undertakings. 



Fifteen or twenty years from now the ruffed grouse 

 will come to occupy very much the same place in this 

 country as does the English pheasant in Great Britain — 

 a semi-domesticated bird. When that time comes the 

 magnificent Bonasa uvibellvs will be less of a stranger. 



Tor.Tf.no, 0., July 12. J. B. BATTELEE. 



AN EXAMPLE OF OPHIDIAN SENILITY. 



THE death of a large snake (Python seba, of West 

 Africa) in the London Reptilium lately afforded in 

 its gradual decay of powers some interesting physiolog- 

 ical features. It must have been at least thirty years 

 old when it died, having been an inmate of the gardens 

 twenty-three years, and being — so far as could be judged 

 from its size when brought there— seven or eight years 

 old at that time. When in its prime it measured 18ft. in 

 length and was then a very handsome serpent, the pride 

 of the collection. Latterly it was scarcely more than 

 14ft. long, having gradually shrunken during the last 

 three or four years. In this shrinking of the form, as 

 well as several other phases of natural decay, there was 

 much similarity between the infirmities of the snake and 

 those of human beings on the approach of old age. And 

 they were such as could not fail to excite the sympathy 

 of the observer. As far as one could venture to designate 

 its chief affliction one would say that it was rheumatism, 

 and to every appearance "the rheumatics" are an ophid- 

 ian as well as a human malady. But fortunately we do 

 not suffer to such an extent, and even if we had them 

 from top to toe they could scarcely be so inconvenient as 

 the python's 18ft. of rheumatism, or say even 14ft. or 15ft. 

 Python seba has, according to Humeri!, 357 vertebras, of 

 which 71 (beginning at the third as far as the tail) support 

 a pair of movable ribs, one pair to each vertebras; and as 

 the ribs act as legs in crawling and are elaborately artic- 

 ulated with the complex spine by muscles still more com- 

 plicated, the sufferings of a rheumatic constricting snake 

 must be very severe indeed. 



As much as three years before its death the keeper ob- 

 served a difficulty and awkwardness in grasping its prey, 

 The vertebral column, once so pliant, so swift in coiling, 

 deft as ready hands, dexterous as fingers, and always 

 equal to the occasion, became stiff and unmanageable. 

 With difficulty it dragged its slow length along and drew 

 itself into inadequate loops. Ten or twelve years ago I 

 used to watch this snake at the feeding hour, and then 

 realized the truth of what an old writer, Boget, said of 

 the marvellous adaptation of a constrictor's coils to meet 

 any emergency. With incredible swiftness it proved 

 "its whole body a hand" in bringing two or more loops of 

 it as two or more hands, to hold, press down, or arrange 

 the outspread wings or limbs of the bird or animal it was 

 swallowing. And all this without the aid of sight, the 

 snake never so much as turning its eyes in the way of 

 observing what was required, but by a sense of touch 

 alone making its coils or loops serve the purpose of limbs 

 and tactile organs. 



When a constricting snake is hungry for food it will 

 within six minutes seize with its mouth, coil, kill and 

 swallow its prey. But our aged python with its poor 

 stiff spine could no longer achieve this and had to be 

 assisted. The keeper would get the prey into easy posi- 

 tion and even present it to the mouth of the snake, hold- 

 ing it there until grasped. The old python, as if conscious 

 that its coils were ineffective, would sometimes haye 

 recourse to the wall when the doomed animal happened 

 to be close enough, and tried to kill it by force of pressure; 

 an example of adapting means to an end practiced sys- 

 tematically by another snake, also a constrictor, which 

 from an injury to its jaws could not seize and hold its 

 prey in the ordinary manner. Our Python seba, unless 

 assisted, would be hours fumbling over its dinner, painful 

 alike to the victim whose fife would otherwise have been 

 swiftly destroyed, and trying to the feeder, who, as the 

 keeper remarked,made as much fuss over a duck as if it had 

 been a large-sized quadruped. And when at last the prey 

 was killed and ready for swallowing, the keeper would 

 patiently hold it to the mouth of the imbecile, who in 

 addition to its other infirmities, suffered from sore gums, 

 that required frequent washings with lotions and so 

 forth. It also breathed with difficulty, and was probably 

 asthmatic. 



The incapable spinal column with its attendant pain 

 was by no means the only feature of ophidian senility. 

 Another affliction was the loss of its teeth ; and this is 

 worthy of note in ophidian biographies, since snakes are 

 supposed to renew their teeth throughout life. As a rule 

 this is true, but the clause, so long as they are in health, 

 must be added. In the present case our python had for 

 a long while ceased to renew them. The keeper in wash- 

 ing its mouth had observed they were becoming fewer 

 and fewer, and a post-mortem examination revealed the 

 fact that at the time of its death not one was left in either 

 of the jaws nor on the palate of all the six rows of teeth. 

 As it had no means therefore of holding and retaining its 

 prey when in the mouth— the recurved teeth which 

 would have served this purpose being all gone, and hav- 

 ing difficulty in breathing and i» swallowing, and with a 

 diseased mouth besides, we can imagine that to partake 

 of a meal must have been a very painful operation 

 to this old snake. Indeed, we may reasonably conclude, 

 that uncared for and unassisted, its death would have 

 occurred much sooner. "And why not let it die?" it may 

 be argued. "Only a snake, after all." Well, that python 

 was an old inhabitant and a favorite, and had been a 

 heroine in her time, affording to students of ophidian 

 habits a great deal of practical information. A large 

 python is worth a good deal of money, too. After attain- 

 ing any size it is valued at so much per foot, like some 

 other choice commodity. One pound or five dollars a 

 foot, is an average price paid for such snakes, and at 

 which rate there are now some at the gardens worth at 

 least $125 each. 



Serpents are supposed to be very long lived; and inas- 

 much as they sleep away more than half their existence, 

 and are, moreover, always in a recumbent position, one 

 which must be far less fatiguing than to stand erect, it 

 seems reasonable that they should attain a great age, but 

 authentic information on this point is difficult to procure. 

 In her natural habitat our particular python might have 



escaped the maladies of civilization, asthma, rheumatism, 

 gum boils and cramp; but as a set off to this she had now 

 the advantage of skilled nursing and medical attendance, 

 with carefully chosen diet. When a duck became too 

 much for a meal a pigeon was offered her, and latterly 

 even a small guinea pig was swallowed with difficulty. 

 There seemed to be a contraction of the throat, and it was 

 observed that the ribs, formerly so obedient to the will of 

 the snake, now ceased to expand, the anterior ones 

 especially, so that the entrance to the gullet was choked. 



One more phase of this rather painful ophidian diagno- 

 sis must be mentioned as of interest, and which exhibited 

 that marvellous adaptation of the breathing apparatus 

 which enables a snake while gorged to bring forward the 

 trachea beyond the mouth. Often do the larger snakes, 

 if any length of time in swallowing some unusually 

 bulky prey, advance the windpipe toward the mouth and 

 even protrude it, if a fresh supply of air is required, but 

 for a few minutes only. I have seen this frequently 

 occur at feeding time; because, although a serpent can 

 remain a long- while without drawing a fresh breath, it 

 does become necessary to do so occasionally while feed- 

 ing. Among the many remarkable volitionary powers 

 with which serpents are endowed, as if to compensate 

 them for the absence of limbs — as, for example, the voli- 

 tional action of the ribs; the ability to withdra w the deli- 

 cate tongue witliin a sheath over which a valve closes it 

 in safely from injury; the vobtional action of a viperine 

 fang, etc.— this ability to draw forward or to retract the 

 trachea is surely one of the chief. And when so pro- 

 truded beyond the mouth, you can observe that it opens 

 and closes at will, otherwise there would be danger of " 

 dust or any small insect causing irritation and even 

 clanger. You may observe the aperture expand or con- 

 tract, and even the feathers or fur of an animal in the 

 snake's jaws stirred by the breath of the snake while the 

 trachea is in contact with it. In the case of our aged in- 

 valid, in consequence of its difficulty of breathing, and 

 indeed of performing any of its natural functions, the 

 windpipe would hang from the mouth an hour or two at 

 a time while the snake was making such painful efforts 

 to swallow its food. The entrance to the windpipe is not 

 back in the throat, as in most creatures, but forward in 

 the mouth, lying immediately over the tongue sheath: 

 and, like the tongue, can be safely inclosed when not in 

 use. This Python seba once, in taking a prolonged yawn 

 while close to the glass front of its cage, enabled me to 

 examine all these interior arrangements at my leisure. 

 In several other ways she afforded me valuable informa- 

 tion, and' I, in concluding this little obituary notice, only 

 trust that my obligations to my old ophidian friend have 

 not caused me to be very wearisome to my readers. 



Catherine C. Hopley. 



Postscript, May .30.— Just as I am winding up my dis- 

 mal narrative of the deceased python, Forest and 

 Stream of May 12 is to hand with "Coahoma's" too flat- 

 tering allusion to myself and his puzzle in naming the 

 blacksnake found on the banks of the Mississippi. With 

 so many able herpetologists in America I feel diffident in 

 offering an Opinion and. particularly with such scant 

 data to guide one. If it had no teeth on the palate it was 

 a venomous snake. The absence of palate teeth may, I 

 think, be taken as a safe guide in this respect. Many of 

 the Heterodons have crimson tints in their colorings, 

 though not clearly defined reds, but five feet is rather 

 long for a Heterodon, though the form, "stout and with 

 a short tail," would agree, and the brilliant coloring might 

 be in consequence of a recent desquamation. I would 

 suggest that when any rare or unknown species of snake 

 is found it might be desirable to send it at once to the 

 authorities of the National Museum at Washington, 

 packed in a bottle or jar of alcohol, safely sealed and 

 protected, and let it be accompanied by a clear account of 

 its capture, if near or in water, or on dry soil, etc., etc. 

 Better still not to kill it, but pack it in a box with moss 

 and address it to H. C. Yarrow, M.D., Washington, D. C. 



C. C. H. 



SNAKE FASCINATION. 



Editor Forest and Stream: 



We have all heard that snakes sometimes charm birds 

 and little animals; that is, that they will fix their deadly 

 gaze upon them and so fascinate them with terror that 

 the little creatures will lose all control of their muscles 

 and so fall an easy prey. Whether this notion exists in 

 the North or not I cannot say, but in the South it is or was 

 general. I learned it from the negro slaves on my father's 



5)lantation in North Carolina, and when I was a little fel- 

 ow I had a mortal dread of all snakes, lest they should 

 charm me. But as the years passed by and no such inci- 

 dent befell me, and never seeing a snake charm a bird or 

 animal, I concluded it was a negro superstition or fancy, 

 devoid of fact. So I continued to think till a few days 

 ago, when a farmer friend of mine, living four miles 

 south of Abilene, told me what he had lately witnessed. 

 He said he was riding along on a prairie and saw a prairie 

 dog within a few feet of him, which refused to scamper 

 to his hole, as prairie dogs usually do when approached by 

 man; on the contrary, he sat as if transfixed to the spot, 

 though making a constant nervous, shuddering motion, 

 as if anxious to get away. My friend thought this was 

 strange, and while considering the spectacle he presently 

 saw a large rattlesnake coiled up under some bushes, Ms 

 head uplifted, about 6 or 7ft. from the dog, staring 

 steadily upon him. This, said he, is a ease of charming. 

 He then rode almost upon the prairie dog, which still 

 heeded him not, but looked steadily upon the snake. He 

 dismounted, took the dog by the head and thrust him off, 

 when the snake, which had up to that moment remained 

 quiet, immediately swelled with rage and began sounding 

 his rattles. The prairie dog for some time seemed be- 

 numbed, hardly capable of motion, but grew better and 

 finally got into his hole. My friend then killed the 

 rattler. Now, was this a case of charming? If not, Avhat 

 was it? My friend who told me this is named John Irving 

 McClure, a farmer, well-known to me, a good and truth- 

 ful man. I now give it up that snakes do indeed charm, 

 or so paralyze birds and little animals with terror, when 

 they can catch their eye, that they become helpless and 

 motionless, almost as good as dead. What say the 

 scientists? 



And to one who is familial' with the eyes of rattlesnakes 

 it does not seem rinreasonable that they shordd have such 

 power. If you will examine the eye of one even when 

 he is cold in death, you will perceive that it has an ex- 

 tremely malignant and terrible expression. When he is 

 alive and excited I know of nothing in all nature of so 



