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Tales of a Poultry Farm

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<h2 class="no-break">THE FOWLS HAVE A JOKE PLAYED ON THEM</h2> When the Man first bought the farm and came to live there, he could not understand a thing that his poultry said. This made it very hard for him, and was something which he could not learn from his books and papers. You remember how the Little Girls understood, better than he, what the Cocks meant by crowing so joyfully one day. It is often true that children who think much about such things and listen carefully come to know what fowls mean when they talk. The Man was really a very clever one, much more clever than the Farmer who had lived there before him, and he decided that since he was to spend much of his time among poultry, he would learn to understand what[Pg 170] they were saying. He began to listen very carefully and to notice what they did when they made certain sounds. It is quite surprising how much people can learn by using their eyes and ears carefully, and without asking questions, too. That was why, before the summer was over, the Man could tell quite correctly, whenever a fowl spoke, whether he was hungry or happy or angry or scared. Not only these, but many other things he could tell by carefully listening. He could not understand a Hen in exactly the way in which her Chickens understand her, but he understood well enough to help him very much in his work. Then he tried talking the poultry language. That was much harder, yet he kept on trying, for he was not the sort of Man to give up just because the task was hard. He had been a teacher for many years, and he knew how much can be done by studying hard and sticking to it. The Man was very full of fun, too, since he had grown so strong and fat on the farm.[Pg 171] He dearly loved a joke, and was getting ready to play a very big joke on some of his poultry. Anybody who has ever kept Hens knows how hard it is to drive them into the poultry-house when they do not wish to go. People often run until they are quite out of breath and red in the face, trying to make even one Hen go where she should. Sometimes they throw stones, and this is very bad for the Hens, for even if they are not hit, they are frightened, and then the eggs which they lay are not so good. Sometimes, too, the people who are trying to drive Hens lose their temper, and this is one of the very worst things that could happen. The poultry had not paid much attention to the Man when he was learning their language. They were usually too busy talking to each other to listen to what he was saying. Once the Shanghai Cock said what he thought of it, however: “Just hear him!” he had said. “Hear that Man trying to crow! He does it about as well as a Hen would.” You know a Hen tries to crow once in a[Pg 172] while, and then the Cocks all poke fun at her, because she never succeeds well. All this happened before the Man had been long on the farm, and before the Shanghai Cock had learned to like him. The Shanghai Cock would have been very much surprised if anybody had then told him that he would ever be unable to tell the Man’s voice from that of one of his best friends. Throughout the summer the fowls who had always lived on the farm were allowed to run wherever they wished during the day, and were not driven into the pen at night. There was always some corn scattered in their own yard for them just before roosting-time, and they were glad enough to stroll in and get it. When they finished eating they were sure to find the outer gate closed, and then they went inside the pen to roost. Now, however, the days were growing much shorter and the nights cooler, and a Skunk had begun prowling around after dark. The Man decided that if he wanted to keep his poultry safe, he must have them in the pens quite early and[Pg 173] shut all the openings through which a night-hunting animal might enter to catch them. He liked to attend to this before he ate his own supper, and the poultry did not wish to go to roost quite so early. They often talked of it as they ate their supper in the yard. “I think,” said the Brown Hen, “that something should be done to stop the Man’s driving us into the pen before we are ready to go. It is very annoying.” “Annoying?” said the White Cock, who was a great friend of hers. “I should say it is annoying! I hadn’t half eaten my supper last night when I heard him saying, ‘Shoo! Shoo!’ and saw him and the Little Girls getting ready to drive us in.” “Well, you might better eat a little faster the next time,” said the Black Hen. “I saw you fooling around when you might have been eating, and then you grumbled because you hadn’t time to finish your supper.” “I would rather fool around a little than to choke on a big mouthful, the way you did,” replied the White Cock, who did not often[Pg 174] begin a quarrel, but was always ready to keep it up. “I was hungry all night,” he added. “It is so senseless,” said the Brown Hen. “He might just as well drive us in after we have had time enough for our supper, or even wait until we go in without driving. I have made up my mind not to go to-night until I am ready.” “What if they try to drive you?” asked the White Cock. “I will run this way and that, and flutter and squawk as hard as I can,” replied the Brown Hen. The Black Hen laughed in her cackling way. “I will do the same,” said she. “It will serve the Man right for trying to send us to roost so early. I think he will find it pretty hard work.” The White Cock would make no promises. He wanted to see the Hens run away from the Man, but thought he would rather stand quietly in a corner than to flutter around. He was afraid of acting like a Hen if he made[Pg 175] too much fuss, and no Cock wishes to act like a Hen. The Shanghai Cock felt in the same way. “I am too big for running to and fro,” said he, “but I will keep out of the pen and watch the fun.” He had hardly spoken these words when the Man and the Little Girls came into the yard and closed the gate behind them. The poultry kept on eating, but watched them as they ate. Suddenly the Brown Hen picked up a small boiled potato that she had found among the other food, and ran with it in her bill to the farthest corner of the yard. The Black Hen ran after her and the other Hens after them. The Cocks remained behind and watched. The Man and the Little Girls tried to get between the Hens and the farthest side of the fence. The Hens would not let them for a while, but kept running back and forth there, until the potato had fallen to pieces and been trampled on without any one having a taste. When the Man and the Little[Pg 176] Girls finally got behind the Hens, the Little Girls spread out their skirts and flapped them and the Man said, “Shoo! Shoo!” Then the Hens acted dreadfully frightened, and the Cocks began to turn their heads quickly from side to side, quite as though they were looking for a chance to get away. They were really having a great deal of fun. Whenever the Man thought that he had them all ready to go into the open door of the pen, one of the Hens would turn with a frightened squawk and flutter wildly past him again to the back end of the yard, and then the Man would have to begin all over. Several of the Hens dropped loose feathers, and it was very exciting. “Well,” said the Shanghai Cock, as the Man went back the fifth time for a new start, “I think that Man will leave us alone after to-night.” “Yes,” said the White Cock, who was standing near him, “I think we are teaching him a lesson.” He spoke quite as though he and the[Pg 177] other Cock were doing it, instead of just standing by and watching the Hens. But that is often the way with Cocks. After the Man had tried once more and failed, he certainly acted as though he was ready to give up the task. He walked to the back end of the yard, took off his hat, and wiped his forehead with his handkerchief. The Little Girls stood beside him, and he picked up a feather to show them. It was a wing-feather, and he was showing them how the tiny hooks on each soft barb caught into those on the next and held it firmly. The poultry watched him for a while and then began eating once more. They thought him quite discouraged. The Shanghai Cock and the White Cock were standing far apart when somebody called “Er-ru-u-u-u-u!” which is the danger signal. As soon as he heard it, each Cock thought that the other had spoken, and opened his bill and said, “Er-ru-u-u-u-u!” in the same tone, even before he looked around for a Hawk or an Eagle. [Pg 178] Every Hen in the yard ducked her head and ran for the door of the pen as fast as her legs would carry her. The Cocks let the Hens go ahead and crowd through the doorway as well as they could, but they followed closely behind. They were hardly inside when the door of the pen was closed after them and they heard the Man fastening it on the outside. “Wasn’t that a shame!” said the Brown Hen, who always thought that something was a shame. “We didn’t finish our supper after all!” “I know it,” said the White Cock. “It happened very badly, and all that running had made me hungry.” “What was the danger?” asked the Shanghai Cock. “I had no time to see whether it was an Eagle or a Hawk coming.” “What do you mean?” cried the White Cock. “If I had given the alarm which took all my friends from their supper into the pen, I think I would take time to see what the[Pg 179] danger was. Can’t you tell one kind of bird from another?” “I can if I see them,” answered the Shanghai Cock, rather angrily. “I did not see this one. I looked up as soon as you gave the cry, but I saw nothing. I repeated the cry, as Cocks always do, but I saw nothing.” “Now see here,” said the White Cock, as he lowered his head and looked the Shanghai Cock squarely in the eyes, “you stop talking in this way! You gave the first warning and you know it. I only repeated the call.” “I did not,” retorted the Shanghai Cock, as he lowered his head and ruffled his feathers. “You gave the warning and I repeated it.” “He did not,” interrupted the Brown Hen. “I stood right beside him, and I know he did not give the first call.” “Well,” said the Barred Plymouth Rock Hen, “I was standing close to the Shanghai Cock, and I know that he did not give the first call.” (Her Chickens were now so large that they did not need her, and she had begun running with her old friends.) [Pg 180] Then arose a great chatter and quarrel in the pen. Part of the Hens thought that the White Cock gave the first warning, and part of them thought that the Shanghai Cock did. Everybody was out of patience with somebody else, and all were scolding and finding fault until they really had to stop for breath. It was when they stopped that the Speckled Hen spoke for the first time. She had never been known to quarrel, and she was good-natured now. “I believe it was the White Plymouth Rock Cock in the other yard,” said she. “Why didn’t we think of that before?” “Of course!” said all the fowls together. “It was certainly the White Plymouth Rock Cock in the other yard.” Then they laughed and spoke pleasantly to each other as they began to settle themselves for the night. “We might as well go to roost now,” they said, “even if it is a bit early. All that running and talking was very tiring.” But it was not the White Plymouth Rock Cock who had said “Er-ru-u-u-u-u!” He[Pg 181] and his Hens had run into their pen at the same time, and had been shut in. Only the Man and the Little Girls knew who it really was, and they never told the poultry. <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/i208.jpg" width-obs="400" height-obs="188" alt="" /></div> [Pg 182] <hr class="chap" /> <ANTIMG src="images/i008.jpg" width-obs="400" height-obs="88" alt="" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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