1908 



GLEANINGS IN BEE CULTURE. 



893 



Our Homes 



By a. I. Root 



Receive my instruction and not silver; and knowledge rather 

 ih;in choice gold. For wisdom is better than rabies; and all the 

 things that may be desired are not to be compared to it. — Prov. 



S: 10, 11. 



He that is slow to anger is better than the mighty; and he that 

 riilpin his spirit than he that taketh a city. — Prov. 16: 32. 



\'ou know, friends, or at least most of you do, 

 that I have a strain of White Leghorn fowls down 

 in Florida that I think promises great things in 

 the way of egg-laying; and before I take up my 

 w irk again down there, say next November, I 

 shall need a new male bird; and while I am about 

 it why should I not have a pretty good one.'' 

 While I do not think of going up into fancy 

 prices (for I care little or nothing for high-scor- 

 ing birds), I should like a male bird whose moth- 

 er and grandmother were great layers. Well, I 

 have got one — or at least I think I have. I bought 

 him of the Glenolden Poultry-yards, near Phil- 

 adelphia. Their sole business is to raise " trap- 

 nested" fowls. I paid $5.00 apiece for two cock- 

 erels whose mother had laid 220 eggs in a year. 

 Now, before shipping them down to Florida I 

 thought best to give them a careful test this sum- 

 mer here in Ohio. Accordingly I purchased 

 three pullets, no relation to the cockerels, whose 

 mothers also have made a fair record. As soon 

 as they came to hand I gave them one of the 

 cockerels, and set the very first eggs the three pul- 

 lets laid. Mrs. Root insisted that the first eggs 

 laid by pullets are not good for strong healthy 

 chickens. But I was in a hurry to see how well 

 they would do, and was agreeably surprised to 

 have every egg produce a chicken but one, on 

 the first trial. On the second trial I gave the hen 

 13 eggs, and she brought out 13 nice strong beau- 

 tiful chicks; and they are a delight to me to study 

 and watch, morning, noon, and night, and a 

 good many times between. 



What we have to do with, however, this beau- 

 tiful bright morning, is with the first hen that 

 hatched every egg but one. She is a Rhode Is- 

 land Red, belonging to Mrs. Boyden. I " brought 

 her up" last summer, and she ought to be a good 

 young mother; and, in fact, she ^i.vas one of the 

 gentlest and nicest hens I ever saw. When she 

 was sitting I could pat her on the back and ad- 

 mire her and call her pet names as much as I 

 chose: but on the morning of the twentieth day, 

 as soon as I came near her nest I found some- 

 thing had happened. She gave me to understand 

 at once, very decidedly, that from that hour on 

 it was to be "hands off" and no foolishness. In 

 trying to get the eggshells out of the way of the 

 chickens I got so many " digs " that I was oblig- 

 ed to get a bent wire and fish them out. By the 

 way, it certainly is very desirable to have your 

 sitting hens gentle and docile; to have pleasant 

 relations between them and their owner, and I 

 generally do have such a state of affairs. I got 

 along with this hen very well by giving her a 

 wide berth until one Sunday afternoon when a 

 gusty thunderstorm came up very suddenly. She 

 was a rod or two away from her home, under the 

 stairway, and I was quite anxious to get her in 

 and shut down the storm-door before the rain 

 came. When I undertook to drive her she show- 



ed fight; then I gently pushed her with my foot; 

 but she had got it into her head that I was after 

 her chicks, and in a little while she became frantic. 

 I finally said, "Old lady, there is no time for 

 fooling, and you might as well understand right 

 off now that you are my property, and that I am 

 going to boss things." 



Now, I hate to confess it, dear friends, but 

 right then and there, with a storm blowing almost 

 a hurricane, I had a regular fight with that sitting 

 hen. Yes, and the saddest part of it is I lost my 

 temper. She bit pieces out of the back of my 

 hand, clawed my wrists, soiled the cuffs of my 

 clean Sunday shirt, and was not whipped even 

 then. I finally decided to choke her into submis- 

 sion, and so I choked her, as long as I dared to, 

 to make her be decent; but the minute I let up 

 she showed me that she was not whipped a bit. 

 I had an exceedingly plain demonstration of the 

 old saying, 



A hen convinced against her will 

 Is 01 the same opinion still. 



May be my couplet as above is not exactly as 

 it has been handed down from generation to gen- 

 eration, but it hits the point exactly. While 

 smarting from the wounds on my hands, and get- 

 ting a glimpse of my soiled Sunday clothing, I 

 was most sorely tempted to "wring her worthless 

 neck," and it makes me shudder now, as I think 

 how near I came to doing such an inhuman, un- 

 manly, and unchristianlike thing. I was so an- 

 gry at that hen that it made me shake like a leaf. 

 I tried to collect myself; but while doing so she 

 contrived to get loose, and, either with her head 

 or leg, she managed to give me another vicious 

 dig. But I did stop and consider. If I wrung 

 her neck there was a brood of chickens only three 

 or four days old, without a mother, and a storm 

 coming up. Then, again, I reasoned, what 

 could be accomplished, even if I did by my su- 

 perior brute strength crush out her life.? As I 

 began to cool off I reflected that her only sin — 

 that is, if animals can commit sin — was the sin of 

 misapprehension. She ;«f«;// well; she was defend- 

 ing her chickens as God taught her to do, but 

 she did not understand. Oh dear me! How 

 many others are there in this world of ours whose 

 only sin is like that of this mother hen! She 

 meant well, but she had a wrong understanding 

 of things in that little head of hers. I set her 

 down near her home where her chickens were 

 hatched; but although the big drops of rain were 

 now falling she did not see her shelter nor under- 

 stand any thing. She was crazy with rage. She 

 went to scratching in the dirt in a frantic way be- 

 cause she did not know what she was doing. She 

 cackled, and stepped on her chicks until I finally 

 picked her up and placed her by main strength in 

 her domicile; and after chasing the chickens out 

 in the rain I succeeded in getting the last one out 

 of the weeds and under shelter. In this last en- 

 counter I felt sure I could keep my temper down; 

 but she was so exceedingly idiotic in her frenzy 

 that I actually lost my temper again. I did not 

 hurt her at all. I did not do any thing out of 

 spite;~ but I was sorely tempted. Let me digress 

 a little. 



A few days ago I was thinking I had not been 

 angry for many long months, perhaps not for 

 years, as I used to be; but this provoking sitting 



*Be ye angry, and sin not. — Efh. 4: 2(\. 



