152 



THE WAYS OF SOME BANTAMS. 



Last summer, when I was out in the 

 country, I made the acquaintance of a 

 kind-hearted httle bantam rooster, who 

 was as funny as he was kind-hearted. 



An old speckled hen, who looked as if 

 she might be a good mother, but wasn't, 

 had brought up a family of chickens to 

 that stage where their legs had grown 

 long and their down all turned to pin- 

 feathers. 



Very ugly they were ; there was no 

 doubt of it. Perhaps this queer mother 

 thought so. At any rate, she turned the 

 poor things adrift and pecked them cruel- 

 ly whenever they came near her. 



Litt-le "Banty"' saw this unkind behav- 

 ior. He was small, but his heart was 

 big, and he set Madam Speckle an exam- 

 ple which ought to have made her hide 

 her head in the darkest corner of the hen- 

 house for shame. 



He adopted those chickens ! 



Each one of them, was about half the 

 size of "Banty," and to see that loving 

 little father-bird standing on tiptoe with 

 his wings spread, trying in vain to cover 

 all eight of his adopted children, was a 

 pathetic as well as a ludicrous sight. 



They loved him and believed in him 

 fully. They followed him all day long, 

 and seemed to see nothing amusing when 

 he choked down a crow to cluck over the 

 food he found for them, and at night they 

 quarreled over the privilege of being 

 nearest to him. 



I think bantams perhaps are more in- 

 teresting than other fowls. When I was 

 a little girl father brought three of them 

 home. Dandy and his two little wives 

 were all pure white and very small. 



We had other fowls, the aristocratic 

 Spanish kind, each as large as two or 

 three of Dandy, and the Spanish rooster 



hinted very strongly that Dandy's pres- 

 ence in that barnyard could be dispensed 

 with. But Dandy was a brave little fight- 

 er, and he soon settled it once for all 

 with Grandee as to what the rights of the 

 former and his family were. 



In a month or so one of the little hens 

 was missing. After a long time we found 

 her, and in such a queer, cozy place ! Up- 

 on the foundations of the old red farm- 

 house where we lived, rested great 

 squared beams. An end of one of these 

 beams had decayed, out of sight, under 

 the clapboards on the south side of the 

 house, until there was a large, soft-lined 

 hollow. Here the little hen had stolen 

 her nest, and when we found her she was 

 just ready to lead off twenty-one tiny 

 white f^uflf-balls of chickens, ^every egg 

 having hatched. 



Dandy's bravery saved his little life 

 one day, and made him forever famous 

 in the annals of our pets. On this most 

 eventful day of his life, a shadow flitted 

 over the barnyard, and a wail went up 

 from us children as a chicken-hawk 

 swooped down upon our beloved Dandy 

 and carried him off before our indignant 

 and tearful eyes. 



Up they went ! But in a moment or 

 two we saw that the thief was having 

 trouble, as somehow Dandy had managed 

 to turn in those wicked talons, and the 

 little fellow was using his sharp beak and 

 spurs with all his might. 



The battle was brief, and then Dandy 

 dropped at our feet. He was bleeding 

 and had lost the sight of one of his eyes, 

 but otherwise he was little hurt. All the 

 rest of his days Dandy carried himself 

 proudly, as one who has been tried as a 

 hero and not found wanting. 



May H. Prentice. 



