_OPHIDIAN NOMENCLATURE AND VERNACULARS._
IN a lecture on ‘Chameleons’ at the Zoological Gardens, Professor
St. George Mivart described in his peculiarly lucid, facile manner,
some of the features possessed in common by totally different
zoological families, and facetiously added, ‘It is tiresome how a
single species will come and interfere with our nice definitions in
classification.’[116] I will devote a chapter to the confusion arising
from some such mixed features.
In the classification of the Ophidia these tiresome complications
present themselves more, perhaps, than in any other creatures. We
have seen how snakes of entirely opposite families may possess one
single feature in common and differ in other generic respects; as, for
instance, in the moveable but innocuous fang of the _Xenodons_; in
those ‘pits’ or depressions in the face; the viperine form of head;
the position and number of head-shields; the sub-caudal plates, and so
on; and in such resemblances I am strongly inclined to suspect that
there are other interfering causes than a common ancestry, though this,
no doubt, has much to do with it.
‘What is to prevent our having one fixed name, and keeping to it?’
exclaim the sorely-puzzled amateur naturalists. And well they may, on
seeing in some works on ophiology a list of synonyms sometimes filling
several pages.
By way of illustration let us take the little spine-toothed snake
described among the egg-eaters in chap. iii. This snake was known
to be _edentulus_ by Linnæus, who nevertheless gave it the generic
name of _Coluber_, because it has two rows of sub-caudal plates; and
the specific _scaber_, because it has roughly-carinated scales—both
names equally applicable to a score of other snakes, and not at
all describing its unique dentition. This latter was first made a
distinguishing feature by Jourdan, 1833, who assigned it the generic
name of _Rachiodon_, spine-toothed. Lacepède called it simply _La
rude_; Wagler, _Dasypeltis_, thick or rough-scaled, the integument
rather than the dentition still receiving prior attention by the
majority of observers.
Dr. Andrew Smith in 1829 more closely watched its habits, and
considered that its peculiar dentition was sufficient to separate it
from the _Oligodon_ (few-toothed) family, under the new generic name
of _Anodon_, with the specific _typus_ to mark it as a distinct type.
Afterwards he found that the word _Anodon_ had been already adopted
by naturalists for a shell-fish, and he contented himself therefore
with Wagler’s name _Dasypeltis_, adding _inornatus_ for its specific,
otherwise _D. scaber_. It is a small, slender snake, rarely exceeding
2-1/2 feet in length, and of an inconspicuous brownish colour. That it
is an extremely slender little snake is evident from the portion of
spine copied from the skeleton in the museum of R. C. S., and given in
the chapter on egg-eating snakes. Jourdan’s name _Rachiodon_, though
the best that had hitherto been assigned to the spine-toothed tree
snake, was yet rather vague, as the teeth might be anywhere along the
spinal column; and Professor Owen still further improved upon this
name by calling it _Deirodon_, neck-toothed; for though, as already
stated, a snake has no true ‘neck,’ the word _Deirodon_ designates the
position of those gular teeth; and for convenience, everybody speaks
of a snake’s ‘neck’ in allusion to the part immediately behind the
head. So the little egg-eating tree snake is equally well entitled
to the generic names of _Oligodon_, few teeth; _Rachiodon_, spine
teeth; _Anodon_, toothless (as far as true teeth are concerned); and
_Deirodon_, neck-toothed. In habits it differs entirely from the
_Oligodontidæ_ family, which are ground snakes. The Deirodons are
frequently found concealed under the loose bark of dead trees; and Dr.
A. Smith observed three species all having a like organization, which
induced him to conclude that all feed alike on birds’ eggs.
As very few snakes have such an exceptionally distinguishing
organization as the _Deirodon_, few are so happy as to escape with
only half a score of titles. Many species that have been longer known
have had their names similarly improved upon by fifty naturalists,
and are still undergoing renomination as new observers discover closer
alliances with one or another family. This is particularly the case in
America, where a nomenclature entirely differing from our own is often
adopted. It will probably be the same in Australia as the science of
ophiology advances and as native naturalists increase. Says Krefft,
in allusion to these commingling features and many synonyms: ‘It is
difficult for even the scholar to master the vexatious question of
snake classification.’ Add to the scientific names an equal number
of vernacular ones, and we encounter a list sufficient to dismay the
merely lukewarm student at the very outset.
Let me here suggest the utility of first getting at the _meaning_
of scientific terms as an immense assistance towards fixing them in
the memory. In the construction of generic and specific names some
peculiarity is, or should be, described. This I have endeavoured to
keep before the reader throughout this volume; and by first looking
at the _meaning_ of the word, it is at once simplified, while that
peculiar feature for which it is named is also grasped. Occasionally a
name baffles us, it is true, and one fails to see cause or reason in
it; but this is an exception. Other names without apparent reason are
from persons, as, for instance, when a Mr. Smith thinks to immortalize
himself by calling a snake _Coluber smithii_. Probably the next
observer would find this too general to be of much use, and discover
some peculiarity more worthy of a specific.
Not long ago, when Lacerda was experimenting with our distinguished
ophidian, the ‘Curucucu’ (_Bothrops_ or _Lachesis rhombeata_), it
was variously introduced to the public through the daily press,
as the _Bothraps rhambeata_, the _Hachesis rhambeata_, and the
_Lachesis rhambeata_. It is doubtful whether many of the ‘general
public’ imagined these three names to represent the same snake, or
whether—except possibly from the last generic one—they could form
any idea of the reptile therefrom. Of the many papers that fell under
one’s notice, _Land and Water_ alone on this occasion spelt the words
correctly. As yet there is no journal devoted to the Reptilia, and the
study is evidently not attractive. Nor do we expect all naturalists to
be ophiologists; but those of the editors who were zoologists might
have hazarded a guess and made sense of the generic _Lachesis_, seeing
that a deadly, fateful serpent was intended. Some of the scientific
‘weeklies’ having started the wrong names, unscientific ‘dailies’
deferentially transcribed them. The errors were chiefly traceable
to caligraphy, and are mentioned here to exemplify the advantage
of seeking a meaning in scientific appellations, the meanings of
some names being so obvious that in spite of a wrong letter you may
frequently decide upon them.
This fateful _Lachesis_ of South America has been as perplexingly
described by unscientific travellers as the _Jararaca_, and as hard to
identify. It has been a stumbling-block and a snare ever since the time
of Waterton, who thus wrote of it:[117]—‘Unrivalled in the display of
every lovely colour of the rainbow, and unmatched in the effects of his
deadly poison, the _counacouchi_ glides undaunted on, sole monarch of
these forests. He sometimes grows to the length of fourteen feet. He is
commonly known by the name of _Bushmaster_. Man and beast fly before
him,’ etc. Waterton ‘wandered’ between the years 1812-1824, making
several journeys to South America, primarily with the view to ascertain
the composition and effects of the Wourali poison, and on this subject
his information was of value. But his descriptions of serpents partook
of the prejudices of that date, and were more picturesque than
zoological. What he saw and wrote of possessed the charm of novelty in
those days, and Sir Joseph Banks addressed a letter to him expressing
‘abundant thanks for the very instructive lesson you have favoured us
with, which far excels in real utility anything I have yet seen.’
Endorsed by such an authority, what wonder that fourteen feet of
radiantly splendid ‘Bushmaster’ should figure in the encyclopedias
of the day, and be copied by book-makers and magazine contributors
for years and years—even to the recent date of 1874! Hartwig,
1873,[118] gives Waterton’s ‘rainbow hues’ nearly word for word, with
the addition of one of the scientific names, _Lachesis rhombeata_.
Kingston, 1874,[119] aided by his imagination, improves on Waterton.
The _Curucucu_, or _Couanacouchi_, ‘sometimes fourteen feet, is the
largest known poisonous snake. It is remarkable for the glowing
radiance of its fearful beauty, displaying all the prismatic colours.
It mounts trees with the greatest ease,’ etc. (It lies half concealed
_under_ the trees among dead leaves.) Another writer of _Travels round
the World_ (meaning the British Museum Reading-room) contents himself
with simply a ‘rainbow-coloured’ Bushmaster; so now in imagination
we add indigo, blue, green, etc., to the ‘fearful beauty.’ Meanwhile
other writers on Brazil introduce it as the Surucuru, Sorococo,
Couroucoucou, Souroucoucou, Surukuku, and similar names, varied only
by a transposition of letters and the addition of accents. Tschudi
mentions it under its scientific name, _Lachesis rhombeata_, the
‘Flammon’ in Peru.[120] Sulivan,[121] who, like Waterton, rambled in
South America, tells us ‘the Couni Couchi or Bushmaster is the most
dreaded of all the South America serpents; and, as his name implies, he
roams absolute master of the forest. They do not fly from man, but will
even pursue and attack him. They are fat, clumsy-looking animals, about
four’ (not fourteen) ‘feet long, and nearly as thick as a man’s arm.
They strike with immense force.’ A man had been bitten in the thigh and
died, and ‘the wound was as if two four-inch nails had been driven into
the flesh. So long are the fangs, and so deep the wounds, that there
is no hope of being cured.’ P. H. Gosse quotes Sulivan regarding the
enormous fangs, both of these latter writers judiciously omitting the
‘rainbow’ colouring.
Most snakes, even the dingiest, occasionally display an iridescence
which is certainly beautiful; and Waterton may have seen his
Counicouchi when the sun lighted up the recently-renewed epidermis and
showed him off in unusual brilliance; only, unfortunately, the copyists
have imagined the greens and crimsons and blues of the rainbow, and
rendered it a tedious business to poor patient plodders to arrive at
the truth. In the _Encyclopædia Metropolitana_, 1845, we find another
clue to identification. ‘_Trigonocephalus mutus_, a native of the
Brazils and Guiana, and from six to seven feet long, is known to the
Brazilians as _Surukuku_, and is probably the _Boschmeester_ of the
Dutch and the _Cœnicoussi_ of the native inhabitants.’
Many writers of travels give the vernacular names only, while the
more scientific who do give generic and specific names, may each give
a different one and perhaps omit the vernaculars; and in none of the
authorities does one discover the name ‘Bushmaster’ at all; while as to
colour and the true size we can be sure of nothing.
Presenting these complications to Dr. Stradling, whose kindly proffered
co-operation I had gladly accepted, he wrote: ‘The vulgar names are
often _local_ in a limited area, so that the same snake may be known
by half-a-dozen different synonyms in as many different provinces—not
only that, but these names are often applied to other snakes; and
thus, while some species are blended together, many imaginary ones are
created.’
This in part explains the varieties of spelling seen above; the two
names _couanacouchi_ and _curucoocu_ being applied to one snake by
different tribes of the native races extending over a rather wide area.
Further confirmation of these indiscriminate terms we find in three
other writers, viz.:—First, Dr. Dalton:[122] ‘The boa constrictor
is known as “Bushmaster” by the colonists. “Camoudi” is a name
indiscriminately applied to all large snakes. There is the land
Camoudi, and the water Camoudi, while the Kunikusi or Courracouchi
of the Indians is _Crotalus mutus_, which is termed “Bushmaster” in
the forests.’ Secondly, H. W. Bates[123] says: ‘The natives called
_Trigonocephalus atrox_ the Jararaca.’ Thirdly, Dr. Otho Wucherer[124]
affirms that a ‘venomous tree snake (_Craspedocephalus bilineatus_)
is called _Surucucu patyoba_, from the palm on which it is found, and
another tree snake is _Suru. Uricana_, from another palm in which it
resides; while _the_ Surucucu (_Lachesis mutus_) lives in holes in
the ground. It is about ten feet long.’ This latter is called _Suru.
bico di jacca_, from the resemblance of its strongly-keeled scales to
the prominences on the ‘jack fruit;’ _Xenodon rhabdocephalus_ is also
_surucucu_, while the true ‘Jararaca’ is _Craspedocephalus atrox_.
Here are contradictory _Curucucus_ and _Jararacas_ in plenty, all
impressing upon us the importance of comparing evidence if we wish to
arrive at a truth.
‘Why spend so much time about a mere name?’ Well, as in the solution
of a problem, you desire to ‘get it right.’ Besides, you ask, ‘Why so
many names to one snake?’ and in sifting out this _Curucucu_ and the
_Jararaca_, we discover reasons for the many synonyms.
A. R. Wallace once more presents a clue:[125] ‘At Säo Gabriel I saw
on the rocks asleep one of the most deadly serpents in South America,
the “Surucurú” (_Lachesis mutus_). It is very handsomely marked with
rich amber brown, and armed with terrific poison fangs, two on each
side.’ Here we are enabled to associate a scientific and a vernacular
name with a ‘handsome,’ though not a ‘rainbow-coloured’ serpent. Sir
J. Fayrer describes the _Ophiophagus_ as the largest known venomous
serpent ‘_except_ the Bushmaster, which is said to attain fourteen
feet.’
By this time, in addition to the ever-varying vernaculars, we learn of
Waterton’s ‘Bushmaster’ as _Lachesis mutus_; _L. rhombeatus_; _Crotalus
mutus_; _Trigonocephalus mutus_.
It will be observed that the word _Trigonocephalus_ is used as a
generic name by some naturalists, and as a specific by others; and it
may with reason be applied to most of the American thanatophidia which
are not _elapidæ_. It therefore, at least, enables us to ascertain
that the snake of doubtful identity has this viperine characteristic
of the angular head; and as there is only one very small true viper at
present known in the New World, we may further decide that not being
an _Elaps_, our puzzler is a _Bothrops_ with the _doubles narines_,
and therefore equally meriting either of the descriptives _atropos_,
_atrox_, _furia_, _megæra_, _clotho_, _cophias_, and other such fearful
appellatives freely used to designate the deadly qualities of the worst
class of serpents. In reply to a communication of mine to _Land and
Water_, of 2d October 1880, Dr. Stradling[126] entered more fully into
this question of vernaculars, and what he says of Brazil we find to be
the case everywhere:—
‘Whatever meaning the colloquial titles have is generally grounded on
some popular error.’
This we saw in the case of _Xenodon_ and _Heterodon_, both called all
sorts of bad names on account of their supposed fangs.
‘In Brazil, _Jeboia_ and _Cascavel_ are the universal names for the
boa and rattlesnake; every snake with red in its markings is a coral
snake (“corral,” from the Spanish word for a ring), every one found
in or near the water would be a _Cobra de agua_, and every other is a
Jarraracca or a Curucucu.
‘I believe every country has a pet bugbear among serpents.
“Fer-de-lance” is the cry in St. Lucia when a snake rustles away in
the bush or inflicts a bite unseen, “Bushmaster” in Demerara, “Toboba”
in Nicaragua, “Vaia” in Mexico, “Vivera de la cruz” in the River
Plate. Over and over again have I had snakes of widely different
species sent to me, each guaranteed to be a genuine Jarraracca, until
I began to doubt whether the Jarraracca had any existence at all. I
believe that the one I sent to the Zoological Gardens the other day
is the real thing—_Craspedocephalus Brasiliensis_—at last’ (the
_Xenodon_ after all!) ‘and I think I have sifted the Curucucu down by
elimination till I can fix the term on _Trigonocephalus atrox_.
* * * * *
‘I fear we shall never get a decent classification till some competent
observer studies them on their native soil; the excellence of the
books on Indian reptiles is doubtless due to this. We want a man in
authority to settle the very vernacular for us—one who can say, “This
and no other shall be the Jarraracca, this the Bushmaster,” etc., for
it is undoubtedly a great advantage to have a well-defined native or
local synonym. The marvel is that the present classification should be
so good as it is. Look at the difficulties. When people see a snake
they rush at it, smash it with sticks or stones, pick up what is left
of it and put it in a bottle of cauha, cachasse, rum, or other coarse
spirit, label it with a wrong name, and send it home. And these are
the materials an ophiologist has to build on.’[127]
Krefft, speaking of the confusion of vernaculars in Australia, also
says: ‘To make a work on ophiology useful to all, _co-operation is
necessary_; and as a good, sound English name is prefixed to every
species, it is to be hoped that such name will, if possible, be
retained.’ He is referring more particularly to the ‘Diamond snake,’
which on the mainland is the harmless _Python molurus_, and in Tasmania
the venomous _Hoplocephalus superbus_, with very broad scales.
Therefore he ‘hopes that Tasmanian friends will accept the designation
“Broad-scaled snake” in lieu of “Diamond” for their poisonous species.’
In the accounts sent to England, the indiscriminate use of such
prefixes as the _black_ snake, the _brown_ snake, causes infinite
perplexity, and not unfrequently furnishes argumentative articles
to the journals. ‘Carpet’ snake is another vernacular applied to a
harmless species in Australia, and to the extremely venomous little
_Echis_ of India. Then every country has its ‘Deaf adder’ which is
neither an ‘adder’ nor ‘deaf.’ And the ‘moccasin’ of the United States
is a still existing stumbling-block.
Another great confusion in classification has been in consequence of
some of the earlier naturalists representing young snakes, or those of
varying colours, as distinct species. It is very common for a young
snake to differ in colour from the parent, and also common for those
of the same brood to differ from each other. Of _Coluber canis_ Dr. A.
Smith says scarcely any two are marked and coloured alike. In a brood
of the broad-scaled Tasmanian snake, _H. superbus_, there were upwards
of thirty young ones, some of which Krefft describes as banded, and of
a light colour, the rest being black. Our English slow-worm varies from
dead black to nearly white, or flesh colour, one of the latter being an
inmate of the Gardens at the time of writing, March 1882. The English
viper also varies in colour, and we have heard of a perfectly yellow
ring snake.
In England we have so few snakes, viz. the ring snake, the coronella,
and one viper, and these three so distinct, that we are not likely to
be perplexed with many varieties; but in tropical or semi-tropical
regions, where closely-allied species abound, it may be suspected that
_hybrids_ not unfrequently create confusion as well as a multiplication
of supposed ‘species’ not likely to cease. In our small London
collection, hybrids have been produced at least twice within a few
years; and we fear that the habit of hibernating in mixed multitudes
leads to some immorality among the Ophidia. It is like the overcrowded
dwellings of the poor, and the ‘free-lovers’ of America; and perhaps to
ophidian unions between congeners occasionally may be traced not a few
of the varieties which so curiously and closely blend different species
and are a plague to classifiers. This is mere speculation.
The Indian vernaculars are as abundant and perplexing as those of
Brazil. Of the cobras, Sir J. Fayrer says there are many varieties
which the natives consider different species. ‘The snake charmers
are poor naturalists, and disseminate many false notions as well
as dangerous ones about the cobras.’ In the _Thanatophidia_ nine
or ten varieties are figured, all of the one single species (_Naja
tripudians_), though all bear different vernaculars. The two chief
distinctions in the markings are the spots on the back of the ‘neck,’
which, when the hood is distended, are easily distinguished. One with
a single ocellus is the _Keautiah_, known as ‘Kala samp,’ ‘Nag samp,’
etc., being chiefly of the field or jungle. The other with the double
ocellus is the ‘spectacled cobra,’ and essentially of the town. This is
the ‘Gokurrah’ of the natives, and the favourite of the snake charmers.
Being common all over a country which boasts of thirty-six written
languages, the reader can imagine the number of vernaculars bestowed
upon the _Cobra capella_.
The _ophiophagus_ is almost equally favoured, as this snake also varies
in colour, particularly in the young ones, which Fayrer affirms might
easily be mistaken for a different species. Probably wherever snakes
abound, the vernaculars are correspondingly numerous.
‘And after all which _is_ the Curucucu, and which _is_ the Jararaca?’
Being the proud possessor of both, I may describe them from nature;
but conflicting opinions as to their identity still exist, because
there are features in common among congeneric species, and what one
author may decide is the _Curucucu_ another will call the _Jararaca_.
Dumeril, Gray, Günther, and other modern ophiologists have, however, so
far simplified difficulties, as to recognise only one of each in our
zoological collections, notwithstanding the liberal use of both terms
in Brazil.
_Our_ _Curucucu_, then, _Lachesis_ or _Crotalus mutus_, has the flat,
viperine head, covered with fine scales. The only plates are the
upper and lower labials, one over the eye, and a pair of rather large
ones under the chin. The ‘pit’ is very distinct, showing it to be a
_Bothrops_ and one of the _Crotalidæ_. The body colour is of a pale
maize, approaching umber towards the back, and lighter on the belly,
with a chain of rich chocolate-brown, jagged, rhomboid spots, edged
with darker tints, along the back. It is undeniably handsome, and in
life no doubt was iridescent, but alas for the ‘rainbow splendours,’
they have vanished! In length it is about nine feet, and in girth as
big as one’s arm in the largest part. Its tail tapers suddenly. One
sees in the strongly-keeled scales the ‘prominences’ alluded to by
Dr. Wucherer; and as the fangs are represented life-size on p. 360,
the reader can judge for himself about the ‘four-inch nails.’ Mine
is probably a nearly full-grown serpent, therefore an average-size
specimen, and much the same as the one brought to the Gardens in the
summer of 1881, which lingered a pitiable object for six or eight
months, eating nothing, and gradually wasting.
The _Jararaca_ is a slighter snake, and in colour of an olive tint with
darker markings, not unlike Xenodon’s jagged leaf pattern along the
back. Its right to the name of _Craspedocephalus_ (_craspedo_, derived
from a Greek word signifying an edge or border) is recognised by a
peculiar ridge round its flat, angular, and almost lance-shaped head.
It is also a _Trigonocephalus_ and a _Bothrops_. My specimen being only
half-grown is about three feet long, and the thickness of your little
finger. ‘Is there not great confusion in the application of the terms
_craspedoceph._ and _trigonoceph._?’ wrote Dr. Stradling, on sending me
these much-prized specimens. Yes, there certainly is; but by this time
the reader sees the reason for this, and also for the many appellatives
which they derive from the Fates and the Furies. Not to weary the
reader with further lists of names, I will refer him to Gray’s
_Catalogue of the British Museum Snakes_, p. 5, for _the_ accepted
_Jararaca_ of the authorities, and to Dumeril, tome vii. pt. ii. p.
1509, for the same; both authors giving the numerous synonyms, and the
latter the reasons for many of them. The student will there see how
Wagler is supposed to have described young snakes as different species;
and if further investigation be invited, a good deal of entertainment
may be had from Wagler himself and his folio volume,[128] _Serpentum
Braziliensis_, with its wonderful coloured illustrations. Then for
the _Curucucu_, the _Lachesis mutus_ of modern ophiologists, see p.
13 of Gray, and p. 1486, tome vii. pt. ii. of Dumeril et Bibron. From
these authors we may go back to Marcgrave, 1648, for the ‘_Cvrvcvcv
Braziliensibus_, fifteen palms long, truculent and much to be feared.’
Marcgrave’s book is embellished with marvellous pictures which are not
likely to enlighten us much; but through him we are enabled to identify
some of his serpents with the vernaculars, for, like the Pilgrim
Purchas, the vernaculars were all he had to guide him.
Authorities recognise six or seven species of _Craspedocephalus_,
presumably all having the easily distinguishable edge like a thin cord
round their heads, and which doubtless were the ‘prominent Veines’
described by Purchas in the Brazilian species, now generally recognised
as ‘_the_ Jararaca.’ I will invite my readers to ‘co-operate’ and
call no harmless little snakes by this name, which originally implied
something terrible.
‘And what is the outcome of all this etymological jumble?’
‘Well, we at least learn that as in English the words snake, adder,
serpent, have a somewhat general signification, so have some of the
Brazilian vernaculars. But I cannot help thinking that many of these
names had more of natural history in them than we are apt to suspect,
though no doubt the original meaning has become much corrupted during
three hundred years’ colonization. The native races knew quite well
that some snakes were dangerous and some harmless, which is more than
can be said for the present occupiers of South America, who think all
venomous as a matter of a course.
The differences in spelling the same word may guide us in the
pronunciation of it; as, for example, the _c_ sometimes as _k_, in
Camoudi, or Kamoodi, and as _s_ in Curucoocu or Sooroocoocoo. In these
latter words we also find the _u_ identical with _oo_, as in the Hindû
or Hindoo words. Again, the _j_ is as _i_ in _Jararaca_ or _Iararacca_,
or more probably a sound with which we are unfamiliar, as the word is
sometimes _Shiraraca_. The frequent transposition of syllables hints
at a meaning which may be worth seeking by a philologist, should he be
also an ophiophilist. Some local information on these points I much
hoped to obtain; but alas! (_for this chapter_) the trips to Brazil of
my excellent ally came to an end! Independently of which, the native
dialects could only be studied in the far interior, where, here and
there, some tribes may still be found in their pristine simplicity,
though it is very doubtful whether their dialects to-day are those
from which the first European settlers obtained their _Curucucus_ and
_Jararacas_.
The repetition of syllables in these strange dialects seems to point
at some intention. Can those frequently occurring _raras_ and _cucus_
represent degrees? For instance, we are told that the Jarrara_cucu_
is ‘the largest of the Jarraracas.’ And we are quite sure that the
_Cucu_rijuba, ‘which killeth by winding certain turnes of his tayle,’
is the boa constrictor; and that the _Cururiubù_, ‘which keepeth
alwaies in the water,’ is the anaconda, these syllables evidently
representing bulk or something formidable: as we have them abounding
in _curucucu_, the most formidable of all serpents. Then _Ibibo_ might
imply beauty or gay colouring. A snake, _Ibiboco_, with red and black
rings, ‘the fairest but of foulest venom,’ is undoubtedly _Elaps
lemniscatus_; while Ibiboboca, ‘_ainsi nommé par sa grande beauté_,’ is
‘_harmlesse_.’ _Peba_ as a termination may imply danger; as there is
the Jararac_peba_, ‘most venomous,’ and a ‘very venomous’ rattlesnake,
Boicininin_peba_. The curious repetition of _in_ in _Boycininga_,
rattlesnake (p. 272), seems to hint at the length of its rattle and
the degree of crepitation it produces, especially as we find the
substitution of _g_ for _c_ in some of these words, and the soft _gi_
rapidly repeated is not unlike the true sound.
There is a long and slender tree snake ‘that eateth eggs, and goeth
faster on the trees than any man can runne on the ground, with
a motion not unlike swimming.’ Its correspondingly long name is
_Guiaranpiaquana_! Vain indeed would be any speculation as to what that
may mean. Vain also, and I fear tedious, may all this guess-work be to
discover meaning and poetry in what may probably be dead languages.
Who shall say how many thousand years ago these singular repetitions
conveyed to the savage mind (but _was_ it savage?) an idea of the
creatures around them?
[Illustration]
[Illustration]