weed] the little red HEX 307 



storm at night. They were much gayer than we. often sporting 

 seven or eight colors, while they possessed the most adorable 

 drooping tail feathers, bright red combs and sharp spurs. Some- 

 what larger than the hens, they frequently fought each other 

 with these sharp spurs and at the finish there was always one 

 boss cock in the yard, and only one. which fact was strenuously 

 impressed on the defeated one. However, victor and victim 

 were on the same footing in the following regard. Let Mr. Cock 

 unearth a choice morsel, let him cluck to his many wives, let 

 them fly to him, only to be just in time to see the fat worm dis- 

 appear down his own throat. Foolish women, we never learned ; 

 as many times as he called, we ran — and — as many times were 

 disappointed. 



"As has been said, the faithful hens were more subdued in 

 color than the cock. Some of us were a reddish brown ; some, 

 who belonged to the Plymouth Rock family, were black and 

 white; some, that were called Leghorns, were pure white. Only 

 the pygmies, the Bantams, were brilliantly colored. Though 

 subdued, our colors were not always protective. During the day 

 we were easily seen by the chicken hawk, our worst day time 

 enemy. When we elders saw or heard him, w'e would stand very 

 quietly or we would run and hide in the bushes. The younger 

 chicks that were not yet trained to scent danger, often fell a 

 victim to him. So when the mother hen saw the hawk, she would 

 make a queer noise in her throat which said, 'Keep still and hide.' 

 The little ones were very, very obedient. Sometimes they would 

 run into the tall grass or huddle under mother's outspread wings. 

 Here they would stay until their old enemy was out of sight. 

 Then they would all wander on to look for more insects, which 

 their mother showed them how to find. 



"How well I remember the long walks I took with my first 

 brood ! In April of the second year of my life at the new home, 

 the farmer gave me twelve eggs to hatch. These I kept warm 

 for three weeks, only getting off to partake of a few kernels of 

 food and some water. Some of the other hens were not good 

 mothers, often leaving their eggs for so long a time that they 

 would be chilled. But I had ten pretty little chicks to repay me 

 for my trouble, while the careless mothers had only half as 

 many. What became of the other two eggs? Well, you see, I 

 stepped on my eldest and killed him. It is very hard in a small 

 nest to get one's big feet in somewhere so as not to squash some- 

 body. It was a most anxious time, I assure you. The other 

 egg never hatched, so that accounts for the two missing eggs. 



