332 THE FAT OF THE LAND 



siestas, nor do tree men make their lives hideous 

 with lithographs of impossible fruit on improbable 

 trees. Whether I am indebted to one or to all 

 of these conditions for my full egg baskets, I am 

 unable to say ; but I do not purpose to make any 

 change, for my egg baskets are as full as a 

 reasonable man could wish. As nearly as I can 

 estimate, my hens give thirty per cent egg re- 

 turns as a yearly average about 120 eggs for 

 each hen in 365 days. This is more than I ask 

 of them, but I do not refuse their generosity. 



Every egg is worth, in my market, 21 cents, 

 which means that the yearly product of each 

 hen could be sold for $ 3. Something more than 

 two thousand dozen are consumed by the home 

 colony or the incubators ; the rest find their way 

 to the city in clean cartons of one dozen each, 

 with a stencil of Four Oaks and a guarantee that 

 they are not twenty-four hours old when they 

 reach the middleman. 



In return for this $3 a year, what do I give 

 my hens besides a clean house and yard ? A con- 

 stant supply of fresh water, sharp grits, oyster 

 shells, and a bath of road dust and sifted ashes, to 

 which is added a pinch of insect powder. Twice 

 each day five pounds of fresh skim-milk is given 

 to each flock of forty. In the morning they 

 have a warm mash composed of (for 1600 hens) 

 50 pounds of alfalfa hay cut fine and soaked all 

 night in hot water, 50 pounds of corn meal, 50 

 pounds of oat meal, 50 pounds of bran, and 20 



