If a cobra fought a python, which one would win?
Well, it kinda depends… on what you mean by cobra and by python.
Let’s start with the words themselves (of course; you knew this was coming, so let’s get straight to it). In cobra versus python we have a contest of Latin versus Greek, but we also have two phonaesthetically different words.
Cobra is from Portuguese cobra, which started life as Latin colubra. That means ‘snake’ and is the feminine form of coluber, which also means ‘snake’ (yes, I can see that it looks like ‘someone who lubes along with you’, but I can neither confirm nor deny that it’s ever used to mean that). No one’s really sure where coluber came from.
Python is, via Latin, from Greek Πύθων, which is the name of the mythical snake slain by Apollo at Delphi. The snake got its name from an older name of Delphi, Πυθώ (Puthō), which might come from a Proto-Indo-European root meaning ‘depths’ but might on the other hand be related to πύθω (puthō) ‘rot’. This Πυθώ, because Delphi was the home of an oracle, was used in some names, most notably Πυθαγόρας, anglicized as Pythagoras; it means, roughly, ‘one who speaks in the public square like an oracle’. (And what does he say, oracularly? Apparently he says “The square on the hypotenuse is equal to the sum of the squares on the other two sides.”)
In a contest of Latin versus Greek, it depends on what you’re comparing. Latin grammar is difficult; Greek grammar is difficulter. Latin gets distorted in English pronunciation; Greek gets distorteder. But one detail we can’t overlook is that most Greek loanwords in English have passed through Latin on their way, and python is among them. So the Latin consumed, but the Greek came out the other side. And in fact python is more intact from its source than cobra is – Portuguese digested a whole syllable of colubra. Meanwhile, English actually added sound to python, changing y from a simple vowel to a diphthong. I’d say python prevails in this one.
Phonaesthetically, it’s hard to choose a winner. Cobra starts in the back with the /k/ and then continues with the mid back rounded vowel, and then the voiced bilabial stop, plus a liquid, and then a neutral vowel; it seems like a name for something that lurks and perhaps (like a bra) embraces and constricts. Python starts with a spit at the lips, /p/, then that narrowing diphthong (the sound of pain, “ay!”), then a soft hissing dental fricative, and so “on.” If I, never having heard of these two kinds of snake, were told that one kills with venom – bitten or spitten – and the other kills by embracing and crushing, I would, if going by the words, guess that cobra is suited to the one that constricts and python is suited to the one that envenoms. Which is, as you may know, exactly wrong.
Cobra is a name for a number of venomous snakes, many of which are of the genus Naja – though perhaps the best-known one, the king cobra, is not; it’s Ophiophagus hannah, and if you know Greek (or taxonomic Latin), you know that the genus name means ‘snake eater’, which is correct: a king cobra is an apex predator and happily eats other snakes, along with anything else that crosses its path at the wrong time. All cobras are among the deadliest of thanatophidians; the venom they carry is not an absolutely guaranteed death sentence, but if you don’t have antivenom on hand and one bites you, you’re in for a rough time – though perhaps not a long time (in some cases, less than an hour before you feel no more pain, ever).
Python, on the other hand, is a name for a number of non-venomous snakes that kill by constriction: they just wait and wait and wait and wait until a suitable bit of prey crosses their path, and then suddenly they leap out and grab it and start squeezing it, and once it stops resisting they eat it.
Neither kind of snake is really a major threat to humans, just because they avoid humans when they can. Also, they usually eat only once every month or two (sometimes even less often), and it takes a while to digest a meal. So that, along with the relative size difference, keeps humans from being likely prey; when these snakes attack humans, it’s usually for defence. People even keep pythons as pets; they are, I read, fairly docile most of the time. (I seem to recall that some people keep cobras, but probably fewer every year by simple attrition. It’s a terrible idea, what with the risk of death or debility from a single bite. Also it’s illegal in many places.)
What do we talk about when we talk about cobra? The Corpus of Contemporary American English (COCA) says that the words most often seen near cobra are king, helicopter, coverage, AH-1W, helicopters, Commander, and Shelby. So the king cobra is top of the list, and then there’s this helicopter, the Bell AH-1W Super Cobra, which is an attack helicopter and apparently a popular one (not with the people it’s attacking, though, of course). Also in there is coverage from the Consolidated Omnibus Budget Reconciliation Act (COBRA), which “gives workers and their families who lose their health benefits the right to choose to continue group health benefits provided by their group health plan for limited periods of time under certain circumstances.” Then there’s Cobra Commander, who is the main antagonist of G.I. Joe. And then there’s the Shelby Cobra, which is a sports car, one of the select few that have had a hit song written about them – which may have been the first place I ever heard the word “cobra,” since I heard that song various times in my long-ago childhood. There are also various sports teams named the Cobras, as people often name sports teams after things they would absolutely not want to find in a locker room.
And what other words show up when we talk about python? COCA says the most frequent ones are Monty, Ruby, flying, Burmese, Java, Perl, and Colt. Obviously Monty Python’s Flying Circus is top of the list. There are many stories of exactly how and why the group decided on that name, and it’s up to you which (if any) of them you wish to swallow, but it was meant to convey a certain slipperiness or sleaze. The most important thing to know is that, should some person not particularly familiar with the troupe ask, the answer to question “Which one of them is Monty?” is of course “Bugger off.” Moving on, the Burmese python is the most talked-about kind of actual python (ball pythons are also popular, partly because they’re smaller). As to Ruby, Java, and Perl, they are all, like Python, high-level scripting programming languages, and you’ve probably interfaced with many things created with each of them. Why did someone name a programming language Python? If you know computer geeks, the correct answer will already have suggested itself to you: yes, of course, after Monty Python. Oh, and Colt Python? It’s a .357 Magnum calibre revolver. I imagine that, if you’re a good shot, you can use a Python of that sort to dispose of a python of one of the other sorts.
Or a cobra. If you must. But be quick. Especially if the cobra is a Colt Cobra, which is a .38 special revolver.
Which takes us back to which would win in Cobra vs. Python. If it’s a .357 Magnum versus a .38 special, well, if they’re shooting at each other and they’re good shots it’s who shoots first, but otherwise my money is on the .357 Magnum Python, which outperforms the .38 special Cobra ballistically (fun fact: as the bullets are actually both .357 inches in diameter – the “.38” refers to the diameter of the casing – you can fire .38 special bullets from a .357 Magnum gun, but not the reverse, because the .357 Magnum shells are much more powerful). If the Cobra is the helicopter, on the other hand, any attack helicopter has the advantage over any single dude with a gun (let alone with a scripting language), but things happen. If the Cobra is a car, are we racing or shooting or biting or coding or what?
Overall in the list of things, the ones named Cobra are mostly more lethal than the ones named Python (unless you die laughing, which, if I ever was to have done, would have been while watching Monty Python’s The Meaning of Life, so there’s that). But how about snake versus snake?
Well, there are videos. Because it does happen from time to time. But here’s the thing. Both snakes can move quickly – like really quickly. In the time it takes you to sneeze, a python can be wrapped around you (at least enough to hold you while it continues the job). And it can be wrapped around a cobra in that time too. But a python needs to squeeze the life out of its prey, which takes time. A cobra just needs to get one bite in. If a python has a grip on a cobra, the cobra just needs to get its head free enough to sink in one fang and it’s game over. Yes, cobra venom is toxic to pythons – fast-acting, too. So unless the python gets exactly the right grip and never slips, the cobra wins.
Sesquiotica 