peculiar species expressive courage
curious dismay desperate assault
subtle rescue deranged enemy
Probably the darkest tragedy of the nest is enacted when a snake plunders
it. All birds and animals, so far as I have observed, behave in a peculiar
manner toward a snake. They seem to feel something of the same loathing
toward it that the human species experience. The bark of a dog when he
encounters a snake is different from that which he gives out on any other
occasion; it is a mingled note of alarm, inquiry, and disgust.
One day a tragedy was enacted a few yards from where I was sitting with a
book: two song sparrows were trying to defend their nest against a black
snake. The curious, interrogating note of a chicken who had suddenly come
upon the scene in his walk first caused me to look up from my reading.
There were the sparrows, with wings raised in a way peculiarly expressive
of horror and dismay, rushing about a low clump of grass and bushes.
Then, looking more closely, I saw the glistening form of the black snake,
and the quick movement of his head as he tried to seize the birds. The
sparrows darted about and through the grass and weeds, trying to beat the
snake off. Their tails and wings were spread, and, panting with the heat
and desperate struggle, they presented a most singular spectacle. They
uttered no cry, not a sound escaped them; they were plainly speechless
with horror and dismay. Not once did they drop their wings, and the
peculiar expression of those uplifted palms, as it were, I shall never
forget.
It occurred to me that perhaps here was a case of attempted bird charming
on the part of the snake, so I looked on from behind the fence. The birds
charged the snake and harassed him from every side, but were evidently
under no spell save that of courage in defending their nest.
Every moment or two I could see the head and neck of the serpent make a
sweep at the birds, when the one struck at would fall back, and the other
would renew the assault. There appeared to be little danger that the snake
could strike and hold one of the birds, though I trembled for them, they
were so bold and approached so near to the snake’s head. Time and again he
sprang at them but without success. How the poor things panted, and held
up their wings appealingly!
Then the snake glided off, barely escaping the stone which I hurled at
him. I found the nest rifled and deranged; whether it had contained eggs
or young I know not. The male sparrow had cheered me many a day with his
song, and I blamed myself for not having rushed at once to the rescue,
when the arch enemy was upon him.
There is probably little truth in the popular notion that snakes charm
birds. The black snake is the most subtle of our snakes, and I have never
seen him have any but young, helpless birds in his mouth.
--JOHN BURROUGHS.