complex an instinct has been acquired and become hereditary in a species - certainly no instinct that is exercised in co-partnership with man, the archenemy of all living things. It is impossible to over-estimate the apparent ‘cleverness’ of the honey-guide and its persistence, although many European naturalists still believe that the stories about it (like the stories of our spitting cobras) are popular exaggerations. No idea can be more erroneous. Every naturalist who makes acquaintance with the honey-guide for the first time is inclined to exclaim: ‘The half has not been told me.’
The honey-guide is also of great interest to naturalists because of the battle that has been waged among systematists through the centuries as to its correct classification. The early South African naturalist Spaarman, who introduced it to science, made it a cuckoo (Cuculus indicator). Layard, another early South African naturalist, raised it to the dignity of a separate order - Indicator indicator. The former, by the by, mentions that the bird not infrequently guides a human being to a leopard or a snake. These early naturalists both averred that its wonderful instinct was originally exercised in conjunction with the ratel or honey-badger (Mellivora capensis). Man was a substitute partner.
The honey-guide, like the cuckoo, is a parasite. It never makes its own nest and never rears its own young.
I know of several instances where the honey-guide led its human followers to snakes - one instance in my own personal experience nearly ended with fatal results to the human partner. Before I relate these instances, it is perhaps just as well to say something of the pythons of Waterberg. At one time, in the central portion of the district, pythons of enormous size were found. They were certainly the largest snakes I have ever had an opportunity of measuring. Many years ago Mr Jean Daly (brother to Dr Daly, of Johannesburg) shot a ‘wopper’. It was remarkable because it had swallowed a full-grown duiker ram, horns and all. (It is commonly said the python swallows horned antelopes by starting at the hindquarters and allowing the head and horns to protrude from the jaws until the neck is severed by the natural process of decay.) Mr Niemand and I once shot a seventeen-and-a-half foot long specimen on the farm Buffelskloof, near Naboomspruit. It had just swallowed two dogs both considerably larger and heavier than the average Airedale. Mr Cornelis Lambrecht, of Naboomspruit, was led to one by a honey-bird and eventually shot it in a pool of water. It was eighteen-and-a-half feet long. But the record went to the gun of Mr McClure, an English farmer who still lives near Naboomspruit. His specimen measured between nineteen and twenty feet. These were the largest snakes I had ever seen, and I have spent most of my life among the wild animals of Africa.
The honey-guide incident I wish to relate, as of especial interest and falling within my personal experience, is connected with one of these giant pythons of