64 BEYOND THE PASTURE BARS 



same color: dull cream, sprinkled with reddish 

 dots. 



I have often hunted for stolen turkey nests, and 

 hunted in vain, because the cautious mother 

 had covered her eggs when leaving them. This 

 is one of the wild habits that has persisted. The 

 wild hen, as the hatching approaches, will not 

 trust even this precaution, however, but remains 

 without food and drink upon the nest until the 

 chicks can be led off. She can scarcely be driven 

 from the nest, often allowing herself to be cap- 

 tured first. 



Mother-love burns fierce in her. Such helpless 

 things are her chicks! She hears them peeping 

 in the shell and breaks it to help them out. She 

 preens and dries them and keeps them close un- 

 der her for days. 



Not for a w r eek after they are hatched does she 

 allow them out in a rain. If, after that, they get a 

 cold wetting, the wild mother, it is said, will feed 

 the buds of the spice-bush to her brood, as our 

 grandmothers used to administer mint tea to us. 



The tame hen does seem to have lost something 

 of this wild-mother skill, doubtless because for 

 many generations she has been entirely freed of 

 the larger part of the responsibility. 



