The hairy armadillo will, doubtless, long survive all the other
armadillos, and on this account alone it will have an ever-increasing
interest for the naturalist. I have elsewhere described how it captures
mice; when preying on snakes it proceeds in another manner. A friend of
mine, a careful observer, who was engaged in cattle-breeding amongst the
stony sierras near Cape Corrientes, described to me an encounter he
witnessed between an armadillo and a poisonous snake. While seated on
the hillside one day he observed a snake, about twenty inches in length,
lying coiled up on a stoue five or six yards beneath him. By-and-by, a
hairy armadillo appeared trotting directly towards it. Apparently the
snake perceived and feared its approach, for it quickly uncoiled itself
and began gliding away. Instantly the armadillo rushed on to it, and,
squatting close down, began swaying its body backward and forward with a
regular sawing motion, thus lacerating its victim with the sharp,
deep-cut edges of its bony covering. The snake struggled to free itself,
biting savagely at its aggressor, for its head and neck were disengaged.
Its bites made no impression, and very soon it dropped its head, and
when its enemy drew off, it was dead and very much mangled. The
armadillo at once began its meal, taking the tail in its mouth and
slowly progressing towards the head; but when about a third of the snake
still remained it seemed satisfied, and, leaving that portion, trotted
away.

Altogether, in its rapacious and varied habits this armadillo appears to
have some points of resemblance with the hedgehog; and possibly, like
the little European mammal it resembles, it is not harmed by the bite of
venomous snakes.

I once had a cat that killed every snake it found, purely for sport,
since it never ate them. It would jump nimbly round and across its