202 HOMING AYITH THE BIRDS 



The little chicken has broken the shell with its 

 bill; now it will soon be out." 



"Oh, Mother!" I begged, "do please let me 

 take it. Let ine hold it in my hand when it comes 

 out!" My mother picked up the egg, laid it in 

 my hand, while I stood with my back to the wind, 

 carefully cupping my other hand over the shell, 

 issuing a series of bulletins: "There goes another 

 big piece!" "It's struggling hard now!" "There 

 goes an awful big piece!" "It will be out in a 

 minute!" Near us an old rooster uttered that 

 prolonged scream which means: "Hawk coming! 

 Hide for your lives!" that danger signal which 

 sends every hen in the barnyard to cover with her 

 brood. Turkey hens crouch in the tall grass, 

 sometimes even gobblers hide, while guineas dart 

 under the fences. As a rule turkey gobblers and 

 ganders stand on defense, ready to fight. 



"That settles it!" exclaimed my mother, care- 

 fully replacing the egg. "That chicken will not 

 move again for half an hour, and I can not possibly 

 spare that much time." When I read in the 

 writings of Darwin that an unhatched chicken that 

 had neither breathed nor seen light would lie 

 dormant for a long period, at the danger signal of 

 a cock, I instantly remembered this experience of 

 my childhood, and wondered where my mother 

 learned it; yet, things like this which my parents 

 taught me always have proved true afield. 



The tribal call once repeated, raised, and intensi- 



