212 



GLEANINGS IN BEE CULTURE. 



Mak. 1 



A NEW HKALTH FOOD FOR POULTRY AND 

 PEOPLE. 



Our poultrj'-house, as I have already told 

 you, is built over a strip of ground where 

 exhaust steam runs through tiles under it 

 from the factory to our home. This exhaust 

 steam not only keeps the ground floor of 

 the poultry-house warm, but it is as dry as 

 the dust in the road on a summer's day, all 

 winter long. Chickens scratch and wal- 

 low even when it is wintry outside and 

 storming. Six feet abovethiswarm ground, 

 where their roost is, the temperature is sel- 

 dom much below freezing, even though 

 there are various cracks, left purposely for 

 ventilation. I do not believe poultrymen 

 have given sufficient attention to this mat- 

 ter of warming the ground under their 

 poultry, bj" exhaust steam or otherwise. If 

 dryness is desirable for fowls, we have it 

 to a dot. Wherever exhaust steam is es- 

 caping into the open air unused, such poul- 

 try-houses may be had without any ex- 

 pense, except the first cost of construction. 

 Why, we had two chickens hatched by a 

 hen that stole her nest, the day before 

 Christmas. One is now nicely feathered 

 out, and the other would be if it were not 

 for the dogs I am going to tell you about. 

 To be up with the times, and get winter 

 eggs, I bought a bone-mill. The people at 

 our meat-market let me have a heaping half- 

 bushel basketful of bones, containing quite 

 a little meat, for only ten cents. We got 

 along finely until the cats and dogs in the 

 neighborhood acquired an appetite for 

 ground bones as well as the poultry. One 

 of our neighbors across the vvaj' has three 

 dogs, and two neighbors next him have a 

 dog apiece. I very soon discovered that, 

 if I did not stay with the chickens until 

 they had eaten up the bones I had ground, 

 the cats and dogs would drive them away 

 as soon as I was out of sight. After dinner 

 I carry over the refuse from the dining-ta- 

 ble in the factory. But one day I found 

 five dogs -And five cats waiting for the " cold 

 victuals." Why don't I shut the chickens 

 in, and so keep the dogs and cats out? 

 Well, there is a strip of green grass right 

 over where this tile carries the steam, 

 where the chickens get out to get fresh air 

 and pick grass during favorable days all 

 winter. Another thing, our poultry-house 

 is mostly made of hot-bed sashes. Broken 

 panes of glass usually do no harm, for a 

 great deal of the time the poultry-house 

 would be too warm were it not for this 

 abundant ventilation. In fact, it is so 

 warm inside I usually hang my basket of 

 bones on a limb of the evergreen trees out- 

 side. Well, when I got tired of wasting 

 my strength in grinding bones for five cats 

 and five dogs, they began to appropriate 



my basket of bones without being ground. 

 I commenced (thoughtlessly) hanging the 

 basket down low; hut as I gradually put 

 it higher, the dogs learned to jump higher. 

 Finally I told Mrs. Root that those dogs 

 had really learned the trick of climbing 

 trees. By the way, did you ever hear of 

 the boy whose father overheard him telling 

 a story about how their dog climbed a tree? 

 The father interfered at this stage of the 

 narrative. 



"No, no, Johnny. Dogs do not climb 

 trees. What are you thinking about? " 



"But, father, the dog did climb a tree 

 this time. You see he /lad to do it. There 

 was 710 other way.''' 



Now, my five dogs were a good deal like 

 Johnny's dogs. There was " no other 

 way" to get iny basket of bones than to 

 climb the evergreen-tree. Of course, I did 

 not see then do it, for it was after dark; 

 but the bones were tumbled about on the 

 ground, and carried off. Mrs. Root sug- 

 gested that the five cats climbed the tree, 

 and, after they had gnawed off what meat 

 they wanted, they tumbled the bones down 

 to the dogs. Now, here is a point which 

 Mrs. Root and I have not yet settled. But 

 I leave it to you if her story is not as im- 

 probable as the other. Just imagine the 

 cats sitting up in the tree and tumbling the 

 bones down to a lot of ill-favored hungry 

 dogs! Never mind. Just at this stage a 

 lady over in Akron — a friend of our eldest 

 daughter, Mrs. Calvert — told Maude to tell 

 her father she could help him out of his 

 trouble. Instead of using bones she said I 

 should get some field corn and roast it in 

 the oven, ear and all, and give it to the hens 

 to shell off. She said that would make 

 them lay as well as bones, or better, and 

 the dogs and cats would not eat it. Well, 

 Mrs. Root roasted the corn, but some of it 

 was almost charcoal (by mistake) rather 

 than parched corn; but I gave it to the 

 "biddies" all the same, and the number 

 of eggs increased at once. Now, I do not 

 mean to say here that parched corn will 

 take the place of bones. It started the 

 hens to laying because it was a change of 

 diet; and any change of diet, almost, will 

 increase the number of eggs — a head of cab- 

 bage, for instance, nailed to a post so it 

 will be just a little above their heads; or, 

 still better, some Grand Rapids lettuce- 

 trimmings. I rather think, too, that the 

 charred corn is better than parched corn, 

 at least for a change. You know charcoal 

 is relished by most domestic animals, and 

 it assists digestion; and there is not any 

 better form of charcoal to be had than 

 charred corn or other grains. When I was 

 watching the poultry snap up the hot corn 

 I tried some myself, and here is the great 

 point of my story. I told Mrs. Root there 

 was not another cereal in the market, to my 

 mind, as delicious and appetizing as this 

 parched corn. Another thing, I found it 

 excellent medicine. I have been for some 

 years more or less troubled with constipa- 

 tion. This parched corn is Nature's reme- 



