The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 15, No. 91, May, 1865: A Magazine of Literature, Art, and PoliticsVarious
General
The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 15, No. 91, May, 1865: A Magazine of Literature, Art, and Politics
Various
American periodicals
There is a certain air and polish about her strain, however, like that
in the vivacious conversation of a well-bred lady of the world, that
commands respect. Her maternal instinct, also, is very strong, and that
simple structure of dead twigs and dry grass is the centre of much
anxious solicitude. Not long since, while strolling through the woods,
my attention was attracted to a small, densely grown swamp, hedged in
with Eglantine, Brambles, and the everlasting Smilax, from which
proceeded loud cries of distress and alarm, indicating that some
terrible calamity was threatening my sombre-colored minstrel. On
effecting an entrance, which, however, was not accomplished till I had
doffed coat and hat, so as to diminish the surface exposed to the thorns
and brambles, and looking around me from a square yard of terra firma, I
found myself the spectator of a loathsome, yet fascinating scene. Three
or four yards from me was the nest, beneath which, in long festoons,
rested a huge black snake; a bird, two thirds grown, was slowly
disappearing between his expanded jaws. As they seemed unconscious of my
presence, I quietly observed the proceedings. By slow degrees he
compassed the bird about with his elastic mouth; his head flattened, his
neck writhed and swelled, and two or three undulatory movements of his
glistening body finished the work. Then, with marvellous ease, he
cautiously raised himself up, his tongue flaming from his mouth the
while, curved over the nest, and, with wavy, subtle motions, explored
the interior. I can conceive of nothing more overpoweringly terrible to
an unsuspecting family of birds than the sudden appearance above their
domicile of the head and neck of this arch-enemy. It is enough to
petrify the blood in their veins. Not finding the object of his search,
he came streaming down from the nest to a lower limb, and commenced
extending his researches in other directions, sliding stealthily through
the branches, bent on capturing one of the parent birds. That a legless,
wingless creature should move with such ease and rapidity where only
birds and squirrels are considered at home, lifting himself up, letting
himself down, running out on the yielding boughs, and traversing with
marvellous celerity the whole length and breadth of the thicket, was
truly surprising. One thinks of the great myth, of the Tempter and the
"cause of all our woe," and wonders if the Arch One is not now playing
off some of his pranks before him. Whether we call it snake or devil
matters little. I could but admire his terrible beauty, however, his
black, shining folds, his easy, gliding movement, head erect, eyes
glistening, tongue playing like subtile flame, and the invisible means
of his almost winged locomotion.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account