The Language of Fowls 



THE language of the barnyard fowls tells us tales to- 

 day of the time when they were wild fowl of the 

 jungle, from the crow of the cock, cheerful Chanti- 

 cleer's trumpet to the morn, to the contented chuckling 

 of Ms good dames, and the little crooning notes they 

 utter when about to lay their eggs. The language of 

 the cock, his call to his hens, his notes of defiance 

 and of warning, is older far than our language, older 

 perhaps than man. Many of the quaint habits of our 

 chickens became what they are long ages before 

 chickens were kept for the sake of fresh eggs for 

 breakfast. 



The cock crows to tell his flock where he, their 

 guardian, is to be found. In the days when the flock 

 wandered at large, he could not always be in attend- 

 ance with the hens ; they would go wandering off to 

 quiet places to lay their eggs. So at intervals he 

 upraised his voice, calling the flock together. And when 

 a hen had laid an egg, she could come from her nest 

 with rejoicing notes, and when they were answered 

 she knew where to go to rejoin the party. 



Crowing at night was no doubt one of the cock's 

 ways of giving alarm. Cock pheasants roosting in 

 the wood wake up and crow at any disturbance, 

 giving warning to others ; and it is impossible to 

 approach guinea-fowl at night without raising an 

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