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GLEANINGS IN BEE CULTURE 



Sept. 15 



Our Homes 



By a. I. Root 



Take heed that ye despise not one of these little ones; 

 for I say unto you that in heaven their angels do al- 

 ways behold the face of my Father which is in heaven. 

 —Matt. 18:10. 



I hope, friends, you will excuse me if I do 

 start out so many of my Home papers with 

 something about chickens, especially little 

 ones. Chickens inside of the egg as well as 

 outside are not only my hobby but they are 

 rriy joy and delight. I do not know that I 

 have ever had a happier time in my life than 

 I am having just now; but it all clusters 

 around and seems to hang on to the wonder- 

 ful development of animal life as seen in the 

 incubation of an egg; and I have felt these 

 sudden calls so often at different periods all 

 through my life that I have begun to think 

 it is the voice of the great Father directing 

 and guiding me, and indicating, as it would 

 seem, that he wants me to explore, for the 

 time being, certain features of his wonder- 

 ful handiwork. I am interested in astron- 

 omy, and I rejoice and feel happy to learn 

 that the intrepid explorer Cook has just 

 planted our flag on the tip end of the real 

 north pole. If Perry gets there he will find 

 that the great feat has been accomplished. 

 When I heard of it, I said if there was an- 

 other spot on this whole wide earth that has 

 not as yet been explored, the genius of the 

 present age will search it out and find what 

 it has to offer. It was a wonderful and a 

 thrilhng thought when he said he was finally 

 at a point where there was no north, east, nor 

 west. Whichever way he turned his gaze it 

 was all south and only south. The success- 

 ful outcome of the flying-machine trials, just 

 now also thrill my very soul. But I turn 

 again, after reading accounts of it, to my in- 

 cubator, poultry books and journals, and a 

 great heap of agricultural papers at my side. 

 Just now a little more about the chickens. 



I delight to see a chick break its shell away 

 and push out into this wonderful world. He 

 is very easily frightened, as I have learned 

 when I try to move him to where there is a 

 little more air than he finds in the close in- 

 cubator. But he and I soon get to be excel- 

 lent friends. I have a little nursery con- 

 nected with my incubator where the chick 

 can rest against a copper boiler where the 

 water inside is exactly 111°. This tempera- 

 ture seems to suit him, especially if he can 

 have plenty of air to breath while he is dry- 

 ing off his plumage. In a little time he 

 learns to be glad to see me; puts out his head, 

 and tries to climb out over his little fence. 

 When a little over 24 hours old I can teach 

 him to climb out and trust himself to the 

 tender mercies of my hand. Ashe steps out 

 and indicates by his actions and voice that 

 he is willing to trust me, and believes I am 

 his friend, he utters that beautiful little chirp 

 or caution. He says, in his baby-chicken 

 language, " Now please be very gentle and 

 careful with me, because I am so very little 

 and so new; " and when I put my other hand 



over him to keep him warm, and screen him 

 from the strong light and the sudden out- 

 door air, he is such a picture of helpless in- 

 fancy that it really touches my heart, be- 

 cause it is full of love for that little speck of 

 life just handed out from the great Father. 

 All the chick wants now is to be kept warm, 

 have plenty of air, and, a little later, some- 

 thing to eat and some fresh water to drink. 

 I could sit by the hour and watch the won- 

 derful and rapid development of so much 

 strength of body and intelligence, and the 

 development of that something which we 

 call " instinct." He wants to sleep quite a 

 little, and he wants a nice, warm, and com- 

 fortable place in which to sleep. Every time 

 he wakes up he has grown and developed 

 a little. Pretty soon he begins to rejoice 

 that he has Ufe. His first expression of 

 thanks to the great Father — at least I under- 

 stand it so — is to stand up and to try to flop 

 his little wings. Then he begins to act play- 

 ful. He will pick at the little toes of the 

 other chicks, and may be give them a dig in 

 the eyes. When only three or four days old 

 he will begin to show off some playful tricks 

 — may be make believe that he is frightened, 

 and lie down flat, pretending some enemyis 

 in sight. No, I am not mistaken. Chickens 

 do a lot of pretending. They will bristle up 

 and pretend to fight. They start out and 

 run a piece, and then come back. One 

 strong lusty chick that was hatched in the 

 incubator was so full of life and animation 

 that he ran away one morning before he was 

 a week old, and went clear past the factory, 

 and was brought in by one of the children 

 from near the railroad track. He got to cut- 

 ting up so many antics that he forgot him- 

 self, and even forgot where the brooder was 

 located. This is all I have to say about chick- 

 ens just now. 



A few days ago an assistant engineer, a 

 son of the stenographer who is taking down 

 these notes, gave me a clipping from one of 

 our daily papers." 



It told about an institution they have in 

 the great city of Cleveland for the care of 

 babies — not only motherless ones, but babies 

 who have mothers who are obliged to work 

 for a living. This institution will keep any 

 baby, and care for it with the best up-to-date 

 methods from morning till night, for the small 

 sum of five cents. The baby is washed and 

 fed, and if its clothing seems to be soiled it is 

 washed and mended and ironed in an up-to- 

 date laundry, so that the mother, when she 

 comes for her baby at night, will find it in 

 much better trim than when she left it in the 

 morning. Not only this, the children are 

 given the very best milk obtainable; and 



*I presume my good young- friend A. X. Root was so 

 much taken up with that newspaper clipping about 

 the babies because he has a fine tyright boy of his own, 

 named Wayne, after Wayne B. Wheeler, of the Anti- 

 saloon League. In fact, he sent me a picture of the 

 boy, which he took himself when I was in Florida. 

 And right here is the most important point. This 

 young man, when he became n father, was at once in- 

 terested in all the babies, not only in the great cities 

 but in the whole wide world. I wonder if the time will 

 ever come when no one can vote on certain matters 

 until he is himself a father. 



