"Some twenty-eight years ago I was in Calaveras County, California,
engaged in cutting lumber. One day in coming out of the camp or cabin,
my attention was attracted to the curious action of a quail in the air,
which, instead of flying low and straight ahead as usual, was some
fifty feet high, flying in a circle, and uttering cries of distress.
I watched the bird and saw it gradually descend, and following with my
eye in a line from the bird to the ground saw a large snake with head
erect and some ten or twelve inches above the ground, and mouth wide
open, and as far as I could see, gazing intently on the quail (I was
about thirty feet from the snake). The quail gradually descended, its
circles growing smaller and smaller and all the time uttering cries of
distress, until its feet were within two or three inches of the mouth
of the snake; when I threw a stone, and though not hitting the snake,
yet struck the ground so near as to frighten him, and he gradually
started off. The quail, however, fell to the ground, apparently
lifeless. I went forward and picked it up and found it was thoroughly
overcome with fright, its little heart beating as if it would burst
through the skin. After holding it in my hand a few moments it flew
away. I then tried to find the snake, but could not. I am unable to
say whether the snake was venomous or belonged to the constricting
family, like the black snake. I can well recollect it was large and
moved off rather slow. As I had never seen anything of the kind
before, it made a great impression on my mind, and after the lapse of
so long a time, the incident appears as vivid to me as though it had
occurred yesterday."

It is not probable that the snake had its mouth open; its darting
tongue may have given that impression.