Tales of a Poultry Farm
Page 8
THE WHITE PLYMOUTH ROCKS COME
Only a few days after the new poultry-house had been opened to thefowls on the place, the Man came home from town with a crate in hislight wagon. In the crate were a Cock and ten Hens. All were verybeautiful White Plymouth Rocks, and larger than any of the fowls onthe place would have supposed possible. You can imagine what ascurrying to and fro there was among those who had always lived on theplace, and how many questions they asked of each other, questionswhich nobody was able to answer.
"Are they to live on this farm?" said one.
"It must be so," answered another. "Don't you see that the Man isgetting ready to open the crate?"
"Where do you suppose they came from?" asked a third. "Why, they arealmost as big as Turkeys."
"Altogether too large, I think," said a Bantam. "It makes fowls lookcoarse to be so overgrown."
"What is that?" asked the Shanghai Cock, sharply. He had come up frombehind without the Bantam's seeing him, and she hardly knew what toanswer. She lowered her head and pecked at the ground, because she didnot know what to say. She dared not tell the Shanghai Cock, who wasvery tall, that she thought large fowls looked coarse. So she keptstill. It would have been much better if she had held up her head andtold the truth, which was that she disliked to have large fowlsaround, since it made her seem smaller.
"I think," said the Shanghai Cock, "that if a fowl is good, the morethere is of him the better. If he is not good, the smaller he is thebetter." He looked over towards the wagon as he spoke, but the Bantamknew that he meant her, and then she was even more uncomfortable. Shethought people were all looking at her, and she felt smaller thanever.
The Man backed the wagon up to the outer gate of the secondpoultry-yard, which was just between the one where the Chickens werewith their mothers and the one into which the older fowls were allowedto go. Then he loosened the side of the crate very carefully and tookthe new-comers out, one at a time. He had to hold the side of thecrate with his hand, so the only way in which he could lift the fowlsout was by taking them by the legs in his other hand and putting them,head downward, into the yard. One would think that it might be quiteannoying to a fowl to have to enter his new home in that fashion, withall the others watching, but the White Plymouth Rocks did not seem tomind it in the least. Perhaps that was because they had been carriedso before and were used to it. Perhaps, too, it was because they feltsure that the fowls who were standing around had also been carried bythe legs. Perhaps it was just because they were exceedinglysensible fowls and knew that such things did not matter in theleast. At all events, each Hen gave herself a good shake when allowedto go free, settled her feathers quickly, and began to walk around.The Cock did the same, only he crowed and crowed and crowed, as muchas to say, "How fine it is to be able to stretch once more! A fellowcould not get room to crow properly in that crate."
TOOK THE NEW-COMERS OUT, ONE AT A TIME. _Page 88_]
Now everybody knows that the poultry who had been long on the placeshould have spoken pleasantly to the White Plymouth Rocks at once. Itwould have made them much happier and would have been the kind thingto do. They did not do it, and there were different reasons for this.The Shanghai Cock was so used to saying disagreeable things every dayto the fowls whom he knew, that now, when he really wanted very muchto be agreeable, he found he did not know how. There are many peoplein the world who have that trouble. The Bantam Hen was cross, andwalked away, saying to herself, "I guess they are big enough to takecare of themselves." And that was a mistake, as you very well know,for nobody in this world is big enough to be perfectly happy withoutthe kindness and friendship of others.
As for the rest of the fowls, some of them didn't care about beingpolite; some of them didn't know what was the best thing to say and sodid not say anything; and some thought it would not do to talk tothem, because they were not so large and fine-looking as the WhitePlymouth Rocks. They really wanted to do the kind thing, but wereafraid they did not look well enough. As though kindness were not agreat deal more important than the sort of feathers one wears!
The White Plymouth Rocks did the best that they could about it. Theychatted pleasantly among themselves, saying that it was a fine day,and that it seemed good to set foot on grass once more, and that theyhad sadly missed having a bit of grass to eat with their grain andwater while they were in the crate.
It was at this time that the Barred Plymouth Rock Hen in the next yardcame over to the wire netting which separated the two. She would havecome sooner if it had not been for her Chickens. Two of them had beenquarrelling over a fat bug which they found, and she stayed to settlethe trouble and scold them as they deserved. Now she came steppingforward in her very best manner to greet the strangers. She knew thatshe was not so large as they, and that her barred gray feathers werenot nearly so showy as their gleaming white ones, but she also knewthat somebody should welcome them to the farm, and she was ashamedthat it had not been done sooner.
"Good-morning," said she. "I am very glad that you have come here tolive."
"Oh, thank you," replied all the White Plymouth Rocks together. "Weare very glad to meet you. We hope to be happy here."
"Have you come far?" asked the Barred Plymouth Rock Hen.
"Very far," said they. "Unless you have taken such a journey you canhave no idea how glad we are to be free again."
"I have never taken any journey," said she, "except the time I camehere to live, and that was when I was only a Chicken. I do notremember much about it. I fluttered out of a crate that was beingcarried in a wagon, and ran around alone until I happened to find thisplace."
"How sad!" exclaimed the Cock. "I hope you have had no such hard timesince. They seem to have a good poultry-house here, although I havenot yet been inside."
"It is a good one," said the Barred Plymouth Rock Hen, "but I do notsleep in it these warm nights. I stay in a coop in my yard with mychildren." As she spoke she looked lovingly down at the white flockaround her feet. They were growing finely and already showed somesmall feathers on their wings.
"Oh!" exclaimed the Hens in the other yard. "Oh, what beautifulChickens! So strong! So quick! So well-behaved! How long is it sinceyou hatched them?"
"Well," replied their mother, "I suppose I did not hatch them. I satlong enough on the nest and laid enough eggs, but the Man who owns thefarm took away my eggs and brought me these Chickens. He has a sort oftable down in his cellar which hatches out all the Chickens on thefarm. I might just as well have saved myself all those tiresome daysand nights of sitting if I had known how it would be."
"That is a good thing to know," said one of the new-comers. "On thefarm from which we came, all the Chickens are hatched in that way. Wenever had a mother who was alive."
"Not until after you were hatched I suppose," remarked the BarredPlymouth Rock Hen, who thought the other did not mean exactly what shehad said.
"We had no real mother then," said the White Plymouth Rock Hen. "Therewere so many of us that we had to get along without. The Man who ownedus had a lot of things to take the place of mothers. They were madeof wood and some soft stuff and he used to set them around in theyards on pleasant days. We ate the food and drank the water that werebrought to us, and then we played around in the grass near themake-believe mothers. When we were tired or cold we crawled under themand cuddled down, and when we were scared we did the same way. We werevery well cared for by the Men, and we all grew to be strong andhealthy fowls, but I sometimes wish that we could have had a livemother to snuggle under and to love."
The Barred Plymouth Rock Hen was greatly surprised. "I think it iswell to save the Hens having to hatch out the broods," she said, "butthey should be willing to care for the Chickens. There is nothingquite so good as a live mother."
Another Plymouth Rock Hen strolled up. "I have been in the pen and thescratching-shed," said she, "and I think them delightful."
"Are they at all like what you had before coming here?" asked theBarred Plymouth Rock Hen.
"Very much th
e same," was the reply. "Only on the farm from which wecame there were a great, great many more pens. It took four Men tocare for us all. Most of us were White Plymouth Rocks. What are thosefowls outside? We never saw any that looked just like them."
"Oh," replied the Barred Plymouth Rock Hen with a little smile, "theydon't know exactly what they are. The Shanghai Cock is a Shanghai, asany one can tell by looking at his long and feathery legs, but he andI are the only ones who belong to fine families. He is really anexcellent fellow, although, of course, being a Shanghai is not being aPlymouth Rock."
"Of course not," agreed all the new fowls, speaking quite together."We understand perfectly. You mean that he is a very good Shanghai."
"Exactly," said the Barred Plymouth Rock Hen. "The other fowls thinkhim rather cross, but he never has been cross to me. I think he getstired of hearing some of them quarrel and fuss, and then he speaksright out."
"One has to at times," said the Cock, politely, for he saw that theBarred Plymouth Rock Hen wished him to like her friends. "When youcan," he added, "tell him that I would like to meet him. I suppose weshall not be allowed to go out of our own yard, but he can come up tothe fence. And send the others also. We would like to meet our newneighbors."
"I will," replied the Barred Plymouth Rock Hen, as she clucked to herChickens. "Good-by. I see that we have fresh food coming."
While her children were feeding she pretended to eat, pecking everynow and then at the food, and chatting softly with them as they ate.There was always much to say about their manners at such times, andshe had to use both of her eyes to make sure that they did nottrample on the food. She also had to remind them often about wipingtheir bills on the grass when they had finished. She could not bear tosee a Chicken running around with mush on the sides of his bill.
When they had eaten all they wished and ran away to play, she ate whatwas left and sat down to think. "I would like to be white," she saidto herself. "I would certainly like to be white, and live in stylewith those fowls who have just come. It must be lovely to be soimportant that one is taken riding on the cars and lifted aroundcarefully in crates."
Then she remembered how they had spoken of their legs aching, and howglad they were to be free on the grass once more. "I don't know that Iwould really care about travelling," she added, "but I would like tolive in such style with a lot of fowls of my own family."
She remembered what the Cock had said about their having to stay intheir own yard, and she added, "But I would not want to have to stayalways in the same place."
She thought a little while longer and laughed aloud. "I believe that Iwould really rather be just what I happen to be," said she. "I don'tknow why I never thought of that before."
You can see that she was a most sensible Hen. Many fowls never stop tothink that if they were to change places with others, they would haveto stand the unpleasant as well as the pleasant part of the change.
The little white Chickens came crowding up to their gray mother. "Tellus what made you laugh," they said. "Please tell us."
Her small round eyes twinkled. "I was laughing," she said, "justbecause I am myself and not somebody else."
"We don't see anything very funny about that," they exclaimed. "Whoelse could you be?"
The Barred Plymouth Rock Hen sent them off to chase a Butterfly, andwent to call on her nearest neighbor. "I would like to tell them," shesaid, "but they are too young to understand it yet."