ON SNAKES. 



277 



Hearing the report of his gun, a short time after 

 he had left me, I conjectured that he had met with 

 something worthy of his notice. 



As I was returning to "breakfast, by the same 

 path along which he had retired, I saw a common 

 yellow-breasted shrike hanging from the stump 

 of a tree. Under the impression that he had fixed 

 it there to attract my notice, I went up to the 

 stump, and quietly took hold of the bird. A hiss 

 immediately announced the nature of the case. 

 A young coulacanara snake, not more than three 

 feet long, (and so like in color to the stump on 

 which it lay, that I had not distinguished one 

 from the other,) had caught the bird, and twisted 

 itself around it, and was holding it prisoner. The 

 skin of this snake is now in one of my drawers. 



This interference with snakes may be deemed 

 rash and condemnatory by a reader safe and snug 

 at his own fireside. But, custom, they say is 

 second nature ; and I can assure him, that generally 

 speaking, there is very little to be apprehended 

 in the way of danger, during a sojourn amongst the 

 wild beasts of the forest. Snakes especially, are 

 of so retiring a nature, that they may be considered 

 as presenting no obstruction during your journey 

 onwards. Formerly, by constant habit, I would 

 just care as little about a snake, as our brave 



