We see, then, that even harmless snakes have many advantages. Thus our ringed snake, feeding on mice and lizards, frogs and fish, wanders through the grass and bushes of warm sunny banks, feeling this side and that with his delicate forked tongue, and gliding so fast that the lizards and mice try in vain to escape; while in the water he seizes the frogs by their hind legs and jerks them into his mouth. He does not even always stop to kill his food, for a live frog has been known to jump out of a snake’s mouth as it yawned after its meal. So he lives through the summer, changing his skin several times by loosening it first at the lips, so that two flaps lie back over the head and neck, and then rubbing himself through moss, bush, or bramble, so that the skin is drawn off inside out like a glove, and the new skin appears underneath, fresh, hard, and bright, ready for use. Then in the warm season the mother lays her ten or twenty soft eggs in a mass of slime, and leaves them in some sunny spot, or under a heap of warm manure to hatch, and she herself wanders away, and when winter comes coils herself up in the trunk of some hollow tree, or under the hedge, to sleep till spring comes round again. Life does not always, however, flow so smoothly as this, for the snakes have their enemies; the fox and the hedgehog love to feed upon them, the buzzard and other birds of prey swoop down upon them from above, and the weasels attack them below; and this, perhaps, is partly the reason why the ringed snake generally keeps near the water, into which it can glide when danger threatens. All snakes are not, however, so harmless as our little ringed snake. The Pythons of India and the Boas of America, though they have no poison in their teeth, can work terrible mischief with their powerful joints as they coil round even good-sized animals, such as an antelope or a wild boar, and crush them in their folds. Then it may be seen what a terrible weapon this flexible backbone is, as the muscles draw it tighter and tighter round the unfortunate animal, breaking its bones in pieces, till, when it is soft enough to be swallowed, the snake gradually forces it down its capacious mouth, moistening it with saliva as it goes. These large boas and pythons would, in fact, probably devastate whole countries if it were not that when they are young they are devoured by other animals, so that very few live to grow into dangerous marauders.