铜斑蛇

铜斑蛇是什么？

铜斑蛇属于蝮蛇科中的蝮蛇亚科（响尾蛇亚科）（1）外形：铜斑蛇长约3英尺（90厘米），铜斑蛇的身体上有红褐色条纹，这些条纹使它们匍匐在落叶中时很难看得见。每只眼睛下边都有一个感热坑，可以帮助它确定猎物的位置。（2）分布：从马萨诸塞向西南延伸一直到德克萨斯中南部和墨西哥北部，大多出没于多岩石、多树木的山坡上，或是在沼泽地和河流边上。（3）饮食习惯：以啮齿类小动物为食，也捕食鸟类、青蛙和昆虫。（4）繁殖：雌蛇一般在夏末产下1到14条幼蛇。

Razer的金环蛇和铜斑蛇，它俩有什么区别？谁的性能更好。。

人皇sky当初就是用金环蛇加螳螂王操控版夺得的世界冠军...但是铜斑蛇也有很多电子竞技的职业玩家在使用...像星际的loveTT就用铜斑蛇...金环蛇和铜斑蛇的区别是金环蛇是属于光电鼠标...而铜斑蛇属于激光鼠标...但是激光鼠标有个通病就是跳帧或者丢帧...你把鼠标放在那里不动可以清楚的看到显示器里的鼠标自己在动...而且铜斑蛇已经是razer比较老的激光鼠标了...价位在300多一点...金环蛇的价位是160左右...但是金环蛇有一个缺点就是爱坏...做工的材料不如铜斑蛇...但是金环蛇配上razer的操控版鼠标垫确实好用....如果你真是一个热爱游戏喜欢电脑外设的玩家...而且喜欢razer那我推荐你用razer的巨腹蛇...价格在520左右...但是也有跳帧和丢帧的问题...而且激光鼠标必须配硬垫....本人现在用的就是巨腹蛇...感觉很不错没有跳帧和丢帧的问题...配的是razer破坏王巨蚁鼠标垫...你还是自己考虑吧....或者你买炼狱蝰蛇也可以...光电鼠标相对来说比较稳定...不会有什么跳帧或丢帧的问题....本人觉的razer的鼠标里性价比最高的光电鼠标其实是炼狱蝰蛇...金环蛇毕竟很多年了已经可以说面临淘汰了...

末制导炮弹是用来对付什么目标的？

火炮对付的大多是固定的点状目标或集团群体目标，所以一般使用具有显著杀伤爆破作用的榴弹，如果要对付远距离的活动点状目标，普通炮弹就无能为力了。于是美国首先为其155毫米火炮研制成功了激光半主动末段制导炮弹——“铜斑蛇”。发射这种“铜斑蛇”炮弹时，火炮就象发射普通炮弹一样，把末制导炮弹送到目标附近的上空，飞行到靠近目标的一定范围时，接收到来自目标反射的激光信号，开始制导飞行，直至命中目标。目标反射的激光信号靠另外一个激光目标指示器照射到目标上，所以是半主动式末制导炮弹。这种未制导炮弹集中了许多优点，如火炮初速高、弹丸飞行大部分时间靠自然弹道飞行、不会受到外来干扰、弹丸在飞行最后阶段可改变飞行弹道追踪目标以及命中精度高等，使大炮真正具备了攻击远程活动点状目标的能力。

红土地末制导炮弹有哪些基本数据？

红土地炮弹：在美国研发部署铜斑蛇激光制导炮弹的同时，苏联也丝毫没有怠慢，KPT设计局几乎在同一时期也着手研制。在吸取美国经验的基础上，于80年代中期生产并装备了“红土地”。由152毫米火炮发射，弹长1300毫米；弹重50千克，其中战斗部重20.5千克；射程22千米，命中概率达90%，对坦克目标的激光照射距离5千米以内，照射持续时间6~15秒。由于苏联的152毫米炮射程普遍小于北约的155毫米炮，因此，苏联在设计“红土地”时，炮弹采用火箭增程以超越北约炮兵射程。由于增加了增程火箭发动机该炮弹长度大，在运输和储存时分为两部分。一部分为战斗部、助推发动机和稳定尾翼；另一部分是控制装置，发射前将两部分组装在一起。“红土地”虽然比“铜斑蛇”射程远，重量却轻10%，而且还可以掠飞攻顶。1993年和1995年的发射试验，仅20发炮弹就击毁19辆T-72坦克。使用“红土地”作战时，在前沿部署携带电台观察员，观察员搜索5千米范围内的目标，因为激光指示器/测距机作用距离最大只有5千米。发现目标后用无线电台通知射击阵地。炮手向目标作间接瞄准，将炮弹射向目标区。后方炮兵开火时，有同步器启动激光目标指示器照射目标。在末制导段，弹上导引头的坐标器探测和不断跟踪从目标反射的激光编码信号，自动导向目标。“红土地”炮弹在与目标交会的瞬间，制导炮弹会向光斑的前方机动，使命中点在激光束照射中心的上方，这种方式使得照射激光束无须直接照射在命中区上，免得被对方发现。一发152毫米炮弹落在1米外对于杀伤力不会有任何影响。由于在制导系统中考虑了超前偏移，当制导炮弹在接近目标时，由低伸弹道转为俯冲弹道以30度~40度的落角攻击目标，触发引信引爆战斗部将其摧毁。

末制导炮弹有哪些特点？

“铜斑蛇”和“红土地”作为世界上最早的末制导炮弹，都具有很好的作战性能。“铜斑蛇”末制导炮弹能对17千米内的任何目标进行准确打击，其射弹散布偏差仅有0.4-0.9米。“红土地”亦不逊色，1999年6月瑞典FH-77B火炮发射了3发“红土地”炮弹，击中了三个不同距离上的目标，使得“红土地”声名大震。但是从性能和作战使用等方面来看，“红土地”略胜“铜斑蛇”一筹。近年来“红土地”制导炮弹也随坦克炮射导弹一起提供出口，中国也曾经购买装备了相当数量的“红土地”炮弹用于152毫米与155毫米火炮，大大提高了我军炮兵的战斗力，也为我军的技术发展体系提供了一个新的坐标。

美国M712铜斑蛇激光制导炮弹有哪些特点？

美国M712铜斑蛇激光制导炮弹的特点：射程远，精度高铜斑蛇炮弹的使用距离为4000～20000米，命中概率80-90%，圆概率误差仅有0.4～0.9米。间接打击，隐蔽性好火炮可在遮蔽物后发射，攻击坦克顶甲，射击位置不易被发现。威力大6.4公斤聚能炸药，配以触发引信，可击穿现役坦克的顶装甲。识别特征柱状弹丸，弹头为钝锥形，头部有导引头的透明盖板。控制两组，每组4片，呈矩形后掠，平时收于弹体内。

美国M712铜斑蛇激光制导炮弹是怎样研制的？

美国陆军与马丁?马利埃塔公司研制的炮弹武器系统，采用155毫米火炮发射，激光末制导，使火炮在远距离上准确打击点状目标成为现实。这一武器系统是“把炮弹变成精确制导导弹的首创”。该武器系统于60年代末期开始论证，1972年进入试验样机研究，1980年完成批量生产，1981年开始交付部队使用。中国台湾地区也购入了该型弹，用于增强远距离精确打击能力，在多次演习中曾进行过表演射击。

铜斑蛇激光制导炮弹的发射过程是怎样的？

铜斑蛇激光制导炮弹的发射过程：前观（目标照射组）发现目标后，通知炮兵，同时使用激光照射器照射目标，炮兵依据激光照射器编码和目标距离，给炮弹装定目标编码和定时器，并发射。弹丸出膛后，惯性开关接通电源，定时器开始工作。弹上尾翼随炮弹旋转而张开。弹丸到达最大弹道高后，定时器打开弹翼增程，弹丸到达目标区后，弹上寻的器接收目标反射激光波束，引导弹丸沿波束飞行、直至命中目标。海湾战争中，美军共发射M712式155毫米铜斑蛇激光制导炮弹90余发，命中率极高。美军通常采取将激光照射器装载于无人机或OH-58直升机上，用于照射远距离目标，弹丸射出后同时发射激光束。在一次战斗中，就摧毁伊军12个目标，命中率为90%。

铜斑蛇激光制导炮弹是什么时候研制成功的？

激光制导炮弹：马丁·玛丽埃塔公司于70年代初开始秘密研制末制导炮弹，1977年12月9日，在白沙靶场进行试验，从接近最大射程处射来的导弹，击中了一辆作为靶标的报废M-47坦克。炮弹命中炮塔左侧上方，爆炸将车内设施一扫而光。舱盖被掀掉，车内零部件从舱口飞出冲上天空。美国军方对试验效果非常满意，于80年代初将该弹定型生产并装备部队，取名为“铜斑蛇”。

M712式铜斑蛇155毫米口径炮弹有哪些制导装置？

第一种制导炮弹是美国M712式铜斑蛇155毫米口径炮弹，采用半主动激光末制导。制导装置主要由寻的头、信号处理模块、控制机构等组成。寻的头是炮弹的“眼睛”，当炮弹飞临目标的上空时，会自动寻找要攻击的目标，老式的寻的头结构与早期的红外空空导弹类似，采用圆锥扫描来测量目标与炮弹目线的偏差，但是这种方式精度难以进一步提高。现在采用焦平面CCD元件，而只对目标的反射光斑闪烁频率响应来确定导弹目线与目标的运动偏差关系，因为激光光斑强度大，光学特征突出，这就无须使用空空导弹那样的图象识别技术，只要盯住那个光斑，就能达到很高的命中精度。弹上信号处理模块把飞行中与目标的方向偏差以及动态运动关系计算出来，计算的误差信号输入控制机构，以便进行修正飞行；控制机构接受误差信号来控制舵机修正偏差，使炮弹准确的跟踪并击中目标。当前方观察所发现目标时，用激光进行指示，测距机测定距离(测距机的最大测试距离为5000米)，观察员将有关的方位、距离、目标信息和激光编码数据用无线电报告给指挥所；指挥所经过计算，将射击诸元下达给炮阵地；炮手取出弹丸舱、制导舱，同时装定好引信、编码、调节定时器等，然后将其对接好，拧下保护帽，瞄准、装填、发射。发射后，弹丸飞出炮口约20米距离时，尾部的4片稳定翼自动展开。弹丸借助尾翼低速旋转，继续向前飞行。此为无控飞行段。当飞到弹道顶点时，导弹开始低头，寻的头向下角度能接收到目标区的激光照射器打在目标上以一定频率闪动的光斑。控制舱内的惯性陀螺解锁，输出导弹姿态信号。

lovejessestuart全文

爱
作者 杰斯·斯图亚特

昨天，当明朗的太阳照耀在枯萎的玉米上时，我的父亲和我走在新开垦的土地边，准备做一个栅栏。牛群在悬崖上不断从栗子橡树中穿过，并踩踏玉米苗。它们咬掉玉米苗的顶端，踏碎玉米的须茬。
我的父亲走在玉米地田梗上。鲍勃，我们的牧羊犬，走在我父亲的前面。我们听到一只地松鼠在空地边缘的枯树的树顶上虚张声势地吹着口哨。“来吧，干掉他，鲍勃。”我的父亲说道。他举起一根玉米苗，苗的根部已经枯萎脱水，地松鼠为了遗留在柔嫩根部的甜玉米粒把它们挖了出来。这是一个干燥的春季，泥土里的玉米一直长得很好，已经发芽了。地松鼠喜欢这种玉米，它们把一行行玉米挖开，把甜玉米粒吃掉，幼嫩的玉米桔梗就这样被杀死了，我们不得不重新种植。
我看到父亲一直让鲍勃去追咬那些地松鼠，他跳过了玉米行，开始向地松鼠跑去。我也向空地跑去，鲍勃正在那儿又跳又叫。尘埃在我们脚后形成一个小小的漩涡，大团的尘埃跟着我们。
“是一条公的黑蛇，”我父亲说，“杀了他，鲍勃！杀了他，鲍勃！”
鲍勃跳起来抓住蛇以便让他不能动弹，同时来个措手不及。鲍勃已经在今年春天杀了28条铜斑蛇，他知道怎样杀死一条蛇，但他并没有急于杀死这一条。他从容且出色地完成他的工作。
“别杀了这条蛇，”我说，“黑蛇是无害的蛇，它会杀有毒的蛇，它会杀铜斑蛇。比起猫，它在田里能抓更多的老鼠。”
我看到那条蛇没有攻击狗的意图。蛇想逃跑，鲍勃不会让它得逞。我想知道它为什么会爬到大山肥沃的黑土地上来；我想知道它为什么要爬过那些栗子橡树苗和悬崖上纠结的绿色石南。我看着蛇，它正抬起它漂亮的脑袋，作为对鲍勃一次跳跃的回应。“它不是一条公蛇，”我说，“它是一条母蛇，看它喉咙上的白斑。”
“蛇是我的敌人，”我的父亲严厉地说，“我讨厌任何一条蛇。杀了它，鲍勃。去把它抓过来，而且不准再和它玩。”
鲍勃服从了我的父亲，我讨厌看到他刺穿这条蛇的喉咙。悬在阳光中的她，看起来美丽异常。
鲍勃抓着她喉咙上的白斑，她那像风中牛尾般长长的身体被撕裂了。他是在逆风处撕裂那身体的。血从她弧度优美的喉咙喷射而出。什么东西击中了我的胳膊，像小球一样。鲍勃把蛇仍在了地上，我看到了那个打在我胳膊上的东西。
是蛇蛋，鲍勃把它们从她的身体里抛了出来。她是要去沙丘产卵，在那儿太阳是一只抱蛋的母鸡，它将给它们温暖并孵化它们。
鲍勃抓起她那躺在泥土上的身体，血液在那堆灰色的土壤上蔓延开来。她的身体还在因疼痛来回翻滚，她就像一棵被新燃的火威胁着的绿草般动作着。鲍勃多次恶意地投掷她的身体。他在逆风处撕裂她柔软的身体，她现在柔软得如同一根风中的鞋带。鲍勃把她千穿百孔的身体扔回了沙子上。她颤抖得像一片飘在懒洋洋的风中的树叶，随后，她满是窟窿的身体终于完全静止不动了。鲜血在蛇周围肥沃的土地上流了一片。
“看看这蛋，看见没？”我的父亲说道。我们数了数，一共37枚。我捡起一只蛋并把它捧在我的手心里。仅仅在一分中前，里面是一条生命。这是一颗不成熟的种子，它不能被孵化，太阳母亲无法用温暖的土地将它孵化。在我手中的这枚蛋几乎只有一颗鹌鹑蛋的大小，它的壳薄而坚韧，壳下似乎是一只水蛋。
“嗯，鲍勃，我想你现在明白这条蛇为什么不能反抗了。”我说，“这就是生活，弱肉强食，即使在人类之间，也是如此。狗杀死蛇，鸟儿杀死蝴蝶。人类征服一切，为取乐而杀戮。”
鲍勃气喘吁吁，他带头返回我们的屋子。他的舌头从嘴巴里伸了出来，他累了，他那外套一样的茸毛让他发热。
他的舌头几乎触到了干燥的地面以及那上面由白色泡沫形成的白斑。我们朝屋子走去，我和父亲都没有说话。我仍想着那条死去的蛇。太阳正从栗树岭那儿缓缓西下，一只云雀正在歌唱。对于一直云雀而言，现在唱歌已经有些晚了。红色的晚霞在我们牧场山的松树上方漂浮。我的父亲站在道路的旁边，他黑色的头发随风而动，在天蓝色的风中，他的脸红红的，他的眼睛直直看着下沉的太阳。
“我的父亲讨厌蛇。”我思忖。
我想到女人分娩时体会到的痛苦；我想到她们为了拯救自己的孩子将怎样竭力抗争；随后，我想到了那条蛇。我觉得有这样想法的自己非常愚蠢。
今天早上，我的父亲和我在鸡鸣中醒来。他说人必须在鸡鸣中起床，然后开始一天的工作。我们拿着柱坑挖掘机，斧头，小锄头，测量杆和鹤嘴锄。我们的目的地是空地边缘。鲍勃没有跟来。
露水还挂在玉米上。我的父亲扛着柱坑挖掘机走在后面，我走在前面。起风了，这晨风呼吸起来非常舒爽，这风让人觉得自己好似能举着山的边沿把山颠倒过来。
我走出玉米行，来到我们昨天下午到过的地方。我看着我前面的地方，我看到了一些东西。我看到它在移动，它像一根绕着胶盘移动的巨大的黑绳子。“别动！”我对父亲说，“这里有一条公的大黑蛇。”他上前一步站在了我的旁边，睁大了眼睛。
“你是怎么知道他是公的？”他说。
“你现在看到这条公蛇了。”我说，“好好看看他！他正躺在他死去的伴侣旁。他找到她了。他，也许，昨天就跟随她而来了。”
公蛇跟随着她的足迹一路而来，直至她的厄运。他晚上就到了，在星空造的屋顶下，当颤抖的绿云遮挡了月亮发出的光芒时。他发现自己的爱人死了。他盘在她身边，然而她已经死去。
公蛇抬起头跟在绕着死蛇走动的我们的后面。他将与我们战斗到死，他将与鲍勃战斗到死。“拿根棍子来，”我的父亲说，“把他扔到山的那边，这样鲍勃就不会发现他了。你有见过什么会因此打架的吗？我听说这种蛇会，但这是我第一次亲眼见到。”我拿来一根棍子，把他扔到了悬崖那边带着露水的豆芽里。

——————
下附原文：
Love by Jesse Stuart （英语短篇小说）
Yesterday when the bright sun blazed down on the wilted corn my father and I walked around the edge of the new ground to plan a fence. The cows kept coming through the chestnut oaks on the cliff and running over the young corn. They bit off the tips of the corn and [trample]trampled[/w] down the stubble.

My father walked in the cornbalk. Bob, our Collie, walked in front of my father. We heard a ground squirrel whistle down over the bluff among the dead treetops at the clearing’s edge. "Whoop, take him, Bob." said my father. He lifted up a young stalk of corn, with wilted dried roots, where the ground squirrel had dug it up for the sweet grain of corn left on its tender roots. This has been a dry spring and the corn has kept well in the earth where the grain has sprouted. The ground squirrels love this corn. They dig up rows of it and eat the sweet grains. The young corn stalks are killed and we have to replant the corn.

I could see my father keep sicking Bob after the ground squirrel. He jumped over the corn rows. He started to run toward the ground squirrel. I, too, started running toward the clearing’s edge where Bob was jumping and barking. The dust flew in tiny swirls behind our feet. There was a big cloud of dust behind us.

"It’s a big bull blacksnake," said my father. "Kill him, Bob! Kill him, Bob!"
Bob was jumping and snapping at the snake so as to make it strike and throw itself off guard. Bob has killed twenty-eight copperheads this spring. He knows how to kill a snake. He doesn’t rush to do it. He takes his time and does the job well.
"Let’s don’t kill the snake," I said. "A blacksnake is a harmless snake. It kills poison snakes. It kills the copperhead. It catches more mice from the fields than a cat."

I could see the snake didn’t want to fight the dog. The snake wanted to get away. Bob wouldn’t let it. I wondered why it was crawling toward a heap of black loamy earth at the bench of the hill. I wondered why it had come from the chestnut oak sprouts and the matted greenbriars on the cliff. I looked as the snake lifted its pretty head in response to one of Bob’s jumps. "It’s not a bull blacksnake," I said. "It’s a she-snake. Look at the white on her throat."

"A snake is an enemy to me," my father snapped. "I hate a snake. Kill it, Bob. Go in there and get that snake and quit playing with it!"
Bob obeyed my father. I hated to see him take this snake by the throat. She was so beautifully poised in the sunlight.

Bob grabbed the white patch on her throat. He cracked her long body like an ox whip in the wind. He cracked it against the wind only. The blood spurted from her fine-curved throat. Something hit against my legs like pellets. Bob threw the snake down. I looked to see what had struck my legs.
It was snake eggs. Bob had slung them from her body. She was going to the sand heap to lay her eggs, where the sun is the setting-hen that warms them and hatches them.

Bob grabbed her body there on the earth where the red blood was running down on the gray-piled loam. Her body was still writhing in pain. She acted like a greenweed held over a new-ground fires. Bob slung her viciously many times. He cracked her limp body against the wind. She was now limber as a shoestring in the wind. Bob threw her riddled body back on the sand. She quivered like a leaf in the lazy wind, then her riddled body lay perfectly still. The blood covered the loamy earth around the snake.

"Look at the eggs, won’t you?" said my father. We counted thirty-seven eggs. I picked an egg up and held it in my hand. Only a minute ago there was life in it. It was an immature seed. It would not hatch. Mother sun could not incubate it on the warm earth. The egg I held in my hand was almost the size of a quail’s egg. The shell on it was thin and tough and the egg appeared under the surface to be a watery egg.

"Well, Bob, I guess you see now why this snake couldn’t fight." I said. "It is life. Stronger devour the weaker even among human beings. Dog kills snake. Snake kills birds. Birds kill the butterflies. Man conquers all, too, kills for sport."
Bob was panting. He walked ahead of us back to the house. His tongue was out of his mouth. He was tired. He was hot under his shaggy coat of hair.

His tongue nearly touched the dry dirt and white flecks of foam dripped from it. We walked toward the house. Neither my father nor I spoke. I still thought of the dead snake. The sun was going down over the chestnut ridge. A lark was singing. It was late for a lark to sing. The red evening clouds floated above the pine trees on our pasture hill. My father stood beside the path. His black hair was moved by the wind. His face was red in the blue wind of day. His eyes looked toward the sinking sun.
"And my father hates a snake,"I thought.
I thought about the agony women know of giving birth. I thought about how they will fight to save their children. ThenI thought of the snake. I thought it was silly of me to think such thoughts.

This morning my father and I got up with the chickens. He says one has to get up with the chickens to do a day’s work. We got the posthole digger, ax, spud, measuring pole and the mat-tock. We started for the clearing’s edge. Bob didn’t go along.
The dew was on the corn. My father walked behind with the posthole digger across his shoulder. I walked in front. The wind was blowing. It was a good morning wind to breathe and a wind that makes one feel like he can get under the edge of a hill and heave the whole hill upside down.

I walked out the corn row where we had come yesterday afternoon. I looked in front of me. I saw something. I saw it move. It was moving like a huge black rope winds around a windlass. "Steady," I says to my father. "Here is the bull blacksnake." He took one step up beside me and stood. His eyes grew wide apart.

"What do you know about this," he said.
"You have seen the bull blacksnake now." I said. "Take a good look at him! He is lying beside his dead mate. He has come to her. He, perhaps, was on her trail yesterday."
The male snake had trailed her to her doom. He had come in the night, under the roof of stars, as the moon shed rays of light on the quivering clouds of green. He had found his lover dead. He was coiled beside her, and she was dead.

The bull blacksnake lifted his head and followed us as we walked around the dead snake. He would have fought us to his death. He would have fought Bob to his death. "Take a stick," said my father, "and throw him over the hill so Bob won’t find him. Did to you ever see anything to beat that? I’ve heard they’d do that. But this is my first time to see it." I took a stick and threw him over the bank into the dewy sprouts on the cliff.

杰斯·斯图亚特（Jesse Stuart,1907-1984）美国小说家、诗人。他的诗集"Man with a Bull-Tongue Plow"（1934）被爱尔兰诗人乔治·威廉 ·卢梭称为继沃特·惠特曼的《草叶集》之后最伟大的诗作。他的小说代表作有"Taps for Private Tussie"(1943)，著有多部自传体小说，国内关于他的介绍和作品译介很少，故在此还是用了其作品题目原文。

《love》by jesse stuare课文翻译

Yesterday when the bright sun blazed down on the wilted corn my father and I walked around the edge of the new ground to plan a fence. The cows kept coming through the chestnut oaks on the cliff and running over the young corn. They bit off the tips of the corn and trampled down the stubble.
My father walked in the cornbalk. Bob, our Collie, walked in front of my father. We heard a ground squirrel whistle down over the bluff among the dead treetops at the clearing’s edge. "Whoop, take him, Bob." said my father. He lifted up a young stalk of corn, with wilted dried roots, where the ground squirrel had dug it up for the sweet grain of corn left on its tender roots. This has been a dry spring and the corn has kept well in the earth where the grain has sprouted. The ground squirrels love this corn. They dig up rows of it and eat the sweet grains. The young corn stalks are killed and we have to replant the corn.
I could see my father keep sicking Bob after the ground squirrel. He jumped over the corn rows. He started to run toward the ground squirrel. I, too, started running toward the clearing’s edge where Bob was jumping and barking. The dust flew in tiny swirls behind our feet. There was a big cloud of dust behind us.
"It’s a big bull blacksnake," said my father. "Kill him, Bob! Kill him, Bob!"
Bob was jumping and snapping at the snake so as to make it strike and throw itself off guard. Bob has killed twenty-eight copperheads this spring. He knows how to kill a snake. He doesn’t rush to do it. He takes his time and does the job well.
"Let’s don’t kill the snake," I said. "A blacksnake is a harmless snake. It kills poison snakes. It kills the copperhead. It catches more mice from the fields than a cat."
I could see the snake didn’t want to fight the dog. The snake wanted to get away. Bob wouldn’t let it. I wondered why it was crawling toward a heap of black loamy earth at the bench of the hill. I wondered why it had come from the chestnut oak sprouts and the matted greenbriars on the cliff. I looked as the snake lifted its pretty head in response to one of Bob’s jumps. "It’s not a bull blacksnake,"I said."It’s a she-snake. Look at the white on her throat."
"A snake is an enemy to me," my father snapped. "I hate a snake. Kill it, Bob. Go in there and get that snake and quit playing with it!"
Bob obeyed my father. I hated to see him take this snake by the throat. She was so beautifully poised in the sunlight.
Bob grabbed the white patch on her throat. He cracked her long body like an ox whip in the wind. He cracked it against the wind only. The blood spurted from her fine-curved throat. Something hit against my legs like pellets. Bob threw the snake down. I looked to see what had struck my legs.
It was snake eggs. Bob had slung them from her body. She was going to the sand heap to lay her eggs, where the sun is the setting-hen that warms them and hatches them.
Bob grabbed her body there on the earth where the red blood was running down on the gray-piled loam. Her body was still writhing in pain. She acted like a greenweed held over a new-ground fires. Bob slung her viciously many times. He cracked her limp body against the wind. She was now limber as a shoestring in the wind. Bob threw her riddled body back on the sand. She quivered like a leaf in the lazy wind, then her riddled body lay perfectly still. The blood covered the loamy earth around the snake.
"Look at the eggs, won’t you?" said my father. We counted thirty-seven eggs. I picked an egg up and held it in my hand. Only a minute ago there was life in it. It was an immature seed. It would not hatch. Mother sun could not incubate it on the warm earth. The egg I held in my hand was almost the size of a quail’s egg. The shell on it was thin and tough and the egg appeared under the surface to be a watery egg.
"Well, Bob, I guess you see now why this snake couldn’t fight." I said. "It is life. Stronger devour the weaker even among human beings. Dog kills snake. Snake kills birds. Birds kill the butterflies. Man conquers all, too, kills for sport."
Bob was panting. He walked ahead of us back to the house. His tongue was out of his mouth. He was tired. He was hot under his shaggy coat of hair.
His tongue nearly touched the dry dirt and white flecks of foam dripped from it. We walked toward the house. Neither my father nor I spoke. I still thought of the dead snake. The sun was going down over the chestnut ridge. A lark was singing. It was late for a lark to sing. The red evening clouds floated above the pine trees on our pasture hill. My father stood beside the path. His black hair was moved by the wind. His face was red in the blue wind of day. His eyes looked toward the sinking sun.
"And my father hates a snake,"I thought.
I thought about the agony women know of giving birth. I thought about how they will fight to save their children. ThenI thought of the snake. I thought it was silly of me to think such thoughts.
This morning my father and I got up with the chickens. He says one has to get up with the chickens to do a day’s work. We got the posthole digger, ax, spud, measuring pole and the mat-tock. We started for the clearing’s edge. Bob didn’t go along.
The dew was on the corn. My father walked behind with the posthole digger across his shoulder. I walked in front. The wind was blowing. It was a good morning wind to breathe and a wind that makes one feel like he can get under the edge of a hill and heave the whole hill upside down.
I walked out the corn row where we had come yesterday afternoon. I looked in front of me. I saw something. I saw it move. It was moving like a huge black rope winds around a windlass. "Steady," I says to my father. "Here is the bull blacksnake." He took one step up beside me and stood. His eyes grew wide apart.
"What do you know about this," he said.
"You have seen the bull blacksnake now." I said. "Take a good look at him! He is lying beside his dead mate. He has come to her. He, perhaps, was on her trail yesterday."
The male snake had trailed her to her doom. He had come in the night, under the roof of stars, as the moon shed rays of light on the quivering clouds of green. He had found his lover dead. He was coiled beside her, and she was dead.
The bull blacksnake lifted his head and followed us as we walked around the dead snake. He would have fought us to his death. He would have fought Bob to his death. "Take a stick," said my father, "and throw him over the hill so Bob won’t find him. Did to you ever see anything to beat that? I’ve heard they’d do that. But this is my first time to see it." I took a stick and threw him over the bank into the dewy sprouts on the cliff.
译文：

昨天，当明亮的阳光照射在枯萎的玉米上时，我和父亲绕着新地的边缘走着，准备篱笆。牛不停地从悬崖上的栗树中跑出来，跑过小玉米。他们咬掉玉米尖，踩碎了胡茬。
我父亲走在玉米沙里。鲍勃，我们的柯利牧羊犬，走在我父亲的前面。我们听到一只地松鼠在空地边上的树梢上吹着口哨。“哇,带他,鲍勃。”我父亲说。他举起一根玉米梗，枯萎的根茎干着，地上的松鼠把它挖出来，准备在它嫩根上留下一粒香甜的玉米。这是一个干燥的春天，玉米在地里长得很好。地松鼠喜欢这种玉米。他们挖了几排，吃了甜的谷物。年轻的玉米杆被杀死了，我们必须重新种植玉米。
我能看到我的父亲在地上松鼠后把鲍勃生病了。他跳过了玉米排。他开始向地松鼠跑去。我也开始跑向空地的边缘，鲍勃在那里跳来跳去。尘埃在我们脚下的小漩涡中飞舞。我们身后有一大团尘土。
“这是条大公牛，黑蛇，”我父亲说。“杀了他,鲍勃!杀了他,鲍勃!”
鲍勃跳了起来，咬着那条蛇，想把它打掉，然后把自己扔出去。今年春天，鲍勃杀死了28个铜头。他知道如何杀死一条蛇。他并不急于做这件事。他很花时间，干得很好。
“我们不要杀蛇，”我说。一条黑蛇是一条无害的蛇。它会杀死毒的蛇。铜斑蛇杀死。它从地里抓来的老鼠比猫还多。
我可以看到蛇不想和狗打架。蛇想逃走。鲍勃不让它。我不知道为什么它会爬向山丘上的一堆黑乎乎的泥土。我不知道为什么它会从栗子树的豆芽和悬崖上的绿毛马身上掉下来。我看着这条蛇抬起它漂亮的头来回应鲍勃的一跳。我说:“这不是公牛的黑蛇。”“这是一个she-snake。看她喉咙里的白色。”
“蛇是我的敌人，”我父亲厉声说。“我讨厌蛇。杀死它,鲍勃。进去，把那条蛇弄出来，别玩了!
鲍勃听从我父亲。我讨厌看到他把这条蛇咬到喉咙。她在阳光下美丽地平衡着。
鲍勃抓住了她喉咙上的白斑。他像风中的牛鞭一样，把她的长身体弄裂了。他只是逆风而行。血从她那弯曲的喉咙里喷涌而出。我的腿像子弹一样被撞了。鲍勃把蛇扔了下去。我想看看是什么东西击中了我的腿。
这是蛇蛋。鲍勃已经把他们从她的身体上甩了出来。她要到沙堆里去产卵，太阳是那只会温暖它们、孵化它们的母鸡。
鲍勃一把抓起她的尸体，她的尸体就在那里，红色的血洒在堆成灰色的壤土上。她的身体仍在痛苦地扭动着。她的行动就像一场新地面的大火。鲍勃多次恶意地骂她。他把她软弱无力的身体撞在了风上。她现在成了风中的一根鞋带。鲍勃把她那千疮百孔的身体扔回到沙滩上。她像一片叶子一样在懒懒的风里颤抖着，然后她那千疮百孔的身体一动不动地躺着。血覆盖了蛇周围的泥土。
“看这些鸡蛋，好吗?””我父亲说。我们统计了37鸡蛋。我捡起一个鸡蛋，拿在手里。就在一分钟前，还有生命。那是一颗未成熟的种子。它不会孵化。太阳妈妈不能在温暖的地球上孵化它。我手里拿的鸡蛋几乎和鹌鹑蛋一样大。它的外壳很薄，很硬，鸡蛋表面下是一个水样的蛋。
“好吧，鲍勃，我想你明白为什么这条蛇不会打架了。””我说。“这就是生活。甚至在人类中也会有更强的吞噬。狗杀死了蛇。蛇杀死鸟类。鸟类杀死蝴蝶。人类征服一切，也为了体育而杀戮。
鲍勃是气喘吁吁。他走在我们前面，回到房子里。他的舌头出了口。他累了。他头发蓬乱，很热。
他的舌头几乎碰到了从上面滴下来的干的灰尘和白色的泡沫。我们朝房子走去。我父亲和我都没有说话。我还在想那条死蛇。太阳正落在栗色的山脊上。一只云雀正在唱歌。云雀歌唱得晚了。红色的晚霞飘浮在我们牧场山上的松树上。我父亲站在小路旁边。他的黑发随风飘动。他的脸在一天的蓝色风儿里红了。他的眼睛望着正在下沉的太阳。
“我父亲讨厌蛇，”我想。
我想到了女人们所知道的分娩的痛苦。我想过他们将如何为拯救他们的孩子而战。然后我想到了蛇。我认为这样的想法是愚蠢的。
今天早上，我和爸爸起床了。他说，一个人必须起床和鸡一起做一天的工作。我们找到了挖洞器、斧头、铲子、测量杆和马托克。我们开始寻找空地的边缘。鲍勃没有。
露水在玉米上。我父亲带着他身后的挖土机走在他的肩膀后面。我走在前面。风吹。这是一股令人愉快的晨风，让人觉得他可以在山脚下，把整座山上下颠倒。
昨天下午，我走出了我们来的玉米地。我看着前方。我看见一些东西。我看到它移动。它像一根巨大的黑绳子绕着锚机转。“稳定，”我对父亲说。“这是公牛，黑蛇。”他走到我身边，站了起来。他的眼睛睁得大大的。
“你知道些什么，”他说。
“你现在看到了公牛的黑蛇。””我说。“好好看看他!”他躺在他已故的配偶旁边。他已经来找她了。他，也许，昨天在她的路上。”
那条雄蛇拖着她走向灭亡。他是夜里来的，在星星的屋顶下，月光照射在颤动的绿色的云朵上。他发现他的情人死了。他被卷绕在她身边，她死了。
当我们绕着那条死蛇走的时候，那头公布黑蛇抬起头来跟在我们后面。他本想和我们战斗到死。他本可以和鲍勃战斗到死。“拿根棍子，”父亲说，“把他扔到山上去，这样鲍勃就找不到他了。”你有看到过比这更重要的东西吗?我听说他们会这么做。但这是我第一次看到它。我拿起一根棍子，把他扔到岸边的露水嫩芽上。