THE FIRST SPRING CHICKENS ARE HATCHED
It was only a few days after the new family settled in the house thatthe Man drove out from town with a queer-looking box-like thing in hislight wagon. This he took out and left on the ground beside thecellarway. When he had unharnessed Brownie and let him loose in thepasture, he came back and took the crate off from the box. Then thepoultry who were standing around saw that it was not at all anordinary box. Indeed, as soon as the Man had fastened a leg to eachcorner, they thought it rather more like a fat table than a box.
While the Man was examining it, he kept turning over the pages of asmall book which he took from some place inside the table. The Geesethought it quite a senseless habit of the Man's, this looking atbooks when he was at work. They had never seen the Farmer do so, andthey did not understand it. When Geese do not understand anything, youknow, they always decide that it is very silly and senseless. Thereare a great many things which they do not understand, so, of course,there are a great many which they think extremely silly.
The Little Girls and their mother stood beside the Man as he looked atthe book and the fat new table. He said something to one of them andshe went into the house. When she came out she had a small basketfulof eggs. The Man took some and put them into one part of the table.Then he took them out again and put them into the basket. Thatdisgusted the Brown Hen, who was watching it all.
"I am always fair," she said, "and I am willing to say that I havebeen treated very well by this Man, very well indeed, but it is mostdistressing and unpleasant to a sensible fowl like myself to have tosee so much utter foolishness on a farm where I have spent my life."
"Then why don't you shut your eyes?" asked the Shanghai Cock, with hisusual rudeness, and after that the Brown Hen could say nothing more.This was a great relief to the Barred Plymouth Rock Hen, who did notat all understand what was going on, but would have tried to defendthe Man if the Brown Hen had asked her about it.
After a while the Woman helped the Man carry the queer-looking objectinto the cellar, and then the poultry strolled off to talk it allover. They heard nothing more about the fat table until the nextmorning. Then the Gander, who had been standing for a long time closeto the cellarway, waddled off toward the barn with the news. "They usethat table to keep eggs in," said he. "Now isn't that just like theMan? I saw him put in a great many eggs, and he took them all out oflittle cases which he brought from town this morning. I don't see whya Man should bring eggs out from town, when he can get plenty in thebarn by hunting for them. Do you?"
"He won't find any of mine in the barn," said a Hen Turkey. "I lay oneevery day, but I never put them there." When she had finishedspeaking, she looked around to see if the Gobbler had heard her.Luckily he had not. If he had, he would have tried to find and breakher eggs.
"That was not the only silly thing the Man did," said the Gander, whointended to tell every bit of news he had, in spite of interruptions.
"Probably not," said the White Cock, who was feeling badly thatmorning, and so thought the world was all wrong.
"No indeed," said the Gander, raising his voice somewhat, so that thepoultry around might know he had news of importance to tell. "Noindeed! The Man marked every egg with a sort of stick, which he tookfrom his pocket. It was sharp at both ends, and sometimes he markedwith one end and sometimes with the other. He put a black mark on oneside of each egg and a red mark on the other."
"Red!" exclaimed the Gobbler. "Ugh!"
"Yes, red," said the Gander. "But the worst and most stupid part of itall was when he lighted a little fire in something that he had andfastened it onto the table."
"What a shame!" cried all the Geese together. "It will burn up thoseeggs, and every fowl knows that it takes time to get a good lot ofthem together. He may not have thought of that. He cannot know verymuch, for he probably never lived on a farm before. He may think thateggs are to be found in barns exactly as stones are found in fields."
All this made the Barred Plymouth Rock Hen very sad. She could nothelp believing what she had heard, and still she hoped they might yetfind out that the Man had a good reason for marking and then burningup those eggs. She was glad to think that none of hers were in thelot. She was not saving them for Chickens just then, but she preferredto think of them as being eaten by the Little Girls or the fat Babywho lived in the house. She decided to begin saving for a brood ofChickens at once. She wanted to say something kind about the Man, orexplain what he was doing when he lighted that fire. However, shecould not, so she just kept her bill tightly shut and said nothing atall. This also showed that she was a fine Hen, for the best peoplewould rather say nothing at all about others than to say unkindthings.
It was a long time before the friendly Barred Plymouth Rock Hen knewwhat was going on in the cellar. She was greatly discouraged about theMan. She had tried as hard as she could to make the other poultrybelieve in him, and had thought she was succeeding, but now thisfoolishness about the fat table and the eggs seemed likely to spoil itall. She found a good place for laying, in a corner of the carriagehouse on some old bags, and there she put all her eggs. She haddecided to raise a brood of Chickens and take comfort with them,leaving the Man to look out for himself as well as he could. Shestill believed in him, but she was discouraged.
Several of the other Hens also stole nests and began filling them, soon the day when the Man hunted very thoroughly for eggs and foundthese stolen nests, taking all but one egg from each, there were fiveexceedingly sad Hens. You would think they might have beendiscouraged, yet they were not. A Hen may become discouraged aboutanything else in the world, but if she wants to sit, she sticks to it.
That very day was an exciting one in the cellar. When the Man camedown after breakfast to look at the eggs in the fat table he foundthem all as he had left them, with the black-marked side uppermost. Hetook them out to air for a few minutes, and then began putting themback with the red-marked side uppermost. As he lifted them, he oftenput one to his ear, or held it up to the light. He had handled theeggs over in this way twice a day for about three weeks. A few of themhad small breaks in the shell, and through one of these breaksthere stuck out the tiny beak of an unhatched Chicken. When he foundan egg that was cracked, or one in which there seemed to be a fainttap-tap-tapping, he put it apart from the others.
RETURNED WITH THE BABY IN HIS ARMS. _Page 37_]
When this was done, the Man ran up the inside stairs. In a few minuteshe returned with the Baby in his arms and the rest of the familyfollowing. The Woman had her sleeves rolled up and flour on her apron.The Little Girls were dressed in the plain blue denim frocks whichthey wore all the time, except when they went to town. Then all fiveof them watched the cracked eggs, and saw the tiny Chickens who wereinside chip away the shell and get ready to come out into the greatworld. The Woman had to leave first, for there came a hissing,bubbling sound from the kitchen above, which made her turn and runup-stairs as fast as she could.
Then what a time the Man had! The Baby in his arms kept jumping andreaching for the struggling Chickens, and the two Little Girls couldhardly keep their hands away from them. "Let me help just one get outof his shell," said the brown-haired Little Girl. "It is _so_ hard forsuch small Chickens."
"No," said the Man, and he said it very patiently, although they hadalready been begging like this for some time. "No, you must not touchone of them. If you were Hens, you would know better than to want todo such a thing. If you should take the shell off for a Chicken, hewould either die or be a very weak little fellow. Before long eachwill have a fine round doorway at the large end of his shell, throughwhich he can slip out easily."
Some of the Chickens worked faster than others, and some had thinshells to break, while others had quite thick ones, so when the firstChicken was safely out many had not even poked their bills through. Assoon as the first was safely hatched, the Man took away the brokenshell and closed the fat table again. Then he waved his hat at theLittle Girls and said "Shoo! Shoo!" until they laughed and ranout-of-d
oors.
All that day there were tiny Chickens busy in the incubator (that waswhat the Man called the fat table), working and working and working toget out of their shells. Each was curled up in a tight bunch inside,and one would almost think that he could not work in such a position.However, each had his head curled around under his left wing, andpecked with it there. Then, too, as he worked, each pushed with hisfeet against the shell, and so turned very slowly around and aroundinside it. That gave him a chance, you see, to peck in a circle and sobreak open a round doorway. As they came out, the Chickens nestledclose to each other or ran around a bit and got acquainted, talking insoft little "Cheep-cheep-cheeps."
They were very happy Chickens, for they were warm and had just aboutlight enough for eyes that had seen no light at all until that day. Itis true that they had no food, but one does not need food when firsthatched, so it is not strange that they were happy. It is also truethat they had no mother, yet even that did not trouble them, for theyknew nothing at all about mothers. Probably they thought that Chickenswere always hatched in incubators and kept warm by lamps.
The next morning, when the Barred Plymouth Rock Hen was sitting on herone egg in the carriage house, thinking sadly of her friend, the Man,that same Man came slowly up to her. The Little Girls were followinghim, and when they reached the doorway they stood still with theirtoes on a mark which the Man had made. They wanted very much to seewhat he was about to do, yet they minded, and stood where they hadbeen told, although they did bend forward as far as they could withouttumbling over.
The Man knelt in front of the sitting Hen, and gently uncovered thebasket he held. The Hen could hardly believe her ears, for she heardthe soft "cheep-cheep-cheep" of newly hatched Chickens. She tried tosee into the basket. "There! There!" said the Man, "I have brought yousome children." Then he lifted one at a time and slipped it into hernest, until she had twelve beautiful downy white Chickens there.
"Well! Well! Well!" clucked the Hen. And she could not think ofanother thing to say until the Man had gone off to the barn. He hadtaken her egg, but she did not care about that. All she wanted wasthose beautiful Chickens. She fluffed up her feathers and spread outher wings until she covered the whole twelve, and then she was thehappiest fowl on the place. The Man came back to put food and waterwhere she could reach both without leaving her nest, and even then shecould think of nothing to say.
After he went away, a friend came strolling through the open doorway.This Hen was also sitting, but had come off the nest to stretch herlegs and find food. It was a warm April day, and she felt so certainthat the eggs would not chill, that she paused to chat.
"Such dreadful luck!" she cackled. "You must never try to make methink that this Man is friendly. He has left me only one of the eggsI had laid, and now I have to start all over for a brood of Chickens,or else give up. The worst of it is that I feel as though I could notlay any more for a while."
"Don't be discouraged," said the Barred Plymouth Rock Hen. "I had onlyone egg to sit on last night, and this morning I have a whole brood ofChickens."
"Where did they come from?" asked the visiting Hen, in greatexcitement.
"That is what I don't know," replied the happy mother. "The Manbrought them to me just now, and put food and water beside my nest. Ihave asked and asked them who their mother was, and they say I am thefirst Hen they ever saw. Of course that cannot be so, for Chickens arenot blind at first, like Kittens, but it is very strange that theycannot remember about the Hen who hatched them. They say that therewere many more Chickens where they came from, but no Hen whatever."
The White Cock stood in the doorway. "Do you know where my Chickenswere hatched?" asked the Barred Plymouth Rock Hen.
"Do I know?" said he, pausing to loosen some mud from one of his feet(he did not understand the feelings of a mother, or he would haveanswered at once). "I saw the Man bring a basketful of Chickens overthis way a while ago. He got them from the cellar. The door was openand I stood on it. Of course I was not hanging around to find out whathe was doing. I simply happened to be there, you understand."
"Yes, we understand all about it," said the Hens, who knew the WhiteCock as well as anybody.
"I happened to be there," he repeated, "and I saw the Man take theChickens out of the fat table. There was no Hen in sight. It must be amachine for hatching Chickens. I think it is dreadful if the Chickenson this farm have to be hatched in a cellar, without Hens. Everythingis going wrong since the Farmer left."
The Barred Plymouth Rock Hen and her caller looked at each otherwithout speaking. They remembered hearing the White Cock talk in thatway before the Farmer left. He was one of those fowls who are alwaysdiscontented.
"I am going back to my nest," said the visiting Hen. "Perhaps the Manwill bring me some Chickens too."
The Barred Plymouth Rock Hen sat on her nest in the carriage house,eating and drinking when she wished, and cuddling her children underher feathers. She was very happy, and thought it a beautiful world. "Iwould rather have had them gray," she said to herself, "but if theycouldn't be gray, I prefer white. They are certainly Plymouth RockChickens anyway, and the color does not matter, if they are good."
She stood up carefully and took a long look at her family. "I couldn'thave hatched out a better brood myself," she said. "It is a queerthing for tables to take to hatching Chickens, but if that is the wayit is to be done on this farm, it will save me a great deal of timeand be a good thing for my legs. It is lucky that this Man came here.The Farmer who left would never have thought of making a table sit oneggs and hatch them."
Tales of a Poultry Farm Page 4
