1892 



(ILEANINGS IN BEE CULTURE. 



703 



inp I'olil".' Ky inorniiip tlio water luul run 

 uway: ami we luul. as maiiv of lis as could, 

 orawlcd up into motlicr IJidtfic's fcatlicrs. and 

 were iii-arly di'v : luit it w as cool the next d;iy, 

 and the warm sun did not siiinc on us for scNcr- 

 al days; so wc just stooil ai'ound on tlic cold 

 damp jrround. and ddipid until cur throats 

 were sore in trying to icll mistress how badly 

 we all felt. 'J'witofus ilmopcd our winps and 

 liied because o( th(> dampness; then mistress 

 said the coop must be ptit upon higher ground, 

 and a tioard floor put. in. 



Mother Kiddie said it was bettor late than 

 never, hut she thouijlit an ounce of prev(Mition 

 would liave been better than a pound of cure, 

 and so it proved, as two mor(> of us drooped and 

 died, so there were but nineteen of us left. Rut 

 it save all tiie more room under mother Kid- 

 die's winirs, and we were very happy when the 

 sun slione on us. We would Hop our wings and 

 run after the (lies, and UMck and scratcli with 

 all our miffht. 



Little Clara used to laugh so loud to see us 

 scratcli the ground and flop our wings, she now 

 had tliat as her work to feed and water us. 

 Sometimes she gave us so much that we could, 

 not eat it up in all day. and we would have it 

 pretty well tramped down, as she would put it 

 just where we wanted to run; then at night 

 she would put in more food, so we could not eat 

 it all up. and mother Biddie must have some- 

 thing to do, so she scratched it around in the 

 coop, stirring our food up in the tilth in the coop. 



Old mistress said she hadn't time to clean out 

 our coop, and so we had to eat that dirty, un- 

 healthy food all day. Mother Biddie said if she 

 would just turn a small box down in front of 

 our coop, and put the food in. that would be 

 nice, as we could all go in and get clean food; 

 and old Robinson that crew so could not stick 

 his long head and neck in, and eat so much of 

 our food, and his mates could not trample on 

 us so badly. 



Our drinking-water was even worse than our 

 food, for little mistress liadn"t l^een taught to 

 rinse out our water-dishi's each time, but just 

 put water in the dishes day after day. when 

 they were nearly half full of filth that mother 

 Biddie had kicked out of our coop. 



Now, gentle reader, would you have liked to 

 eat such food and drink such water? Wasn't 

 it too bad to l)e treated in that way. as mother 

 Biddie said we were the loving Father's little 

 sparrows, and not one of us could die without 

 his notice? 



Some of us did die. and lay there in the coop 

 until the heavenly Father sent great green flies 

 to lay eggs that would soon hatch out into 

 worms that would quickly r -move the dead 

 chicks, or I guess we would all have died, so 

 neglected we were. 



Old mistress did not mean to be unkind, but 

 she said she hadn't time to look after us, and 

 trusted us, so frail and tender, to the care and 

 inexperience of little mistress Clara, 



One night, I shall always remember, we were 

 very happy when we gathered under mother 

 Biddie's wings, as she was teaching us to make 

 the best of life, and rejoice and be happy in 

 what we had, instead of repining and wishing 

 for something we could not have, l{ut she 

 seemed to know there was danger, as a big rat 

 hung around our coop, gathering up some of 

 the food we left. Mother Biddie would cackle. 

 and try to tell old mistress of our danger: but 

 we were so far from the house no one could 

 hear her. and our coop was near an old brush- 

 pile, where he quickly ran and hid when mis- 

 tress Clara came near. As the floor of our coop 

 was laid on the ground, other rats came with 

 him. and they dug out a nest for themselves 

 under our coop. 



One night they thought tliey would have 

 some meat as well as bread, and so they caught 

 and killed four of my little l)rothers and sisters, 

 anil draggeil them under the cooi). Mother 

 Biddie squealed with all her might, and so did 

 tlie rest of us. which this lime brought old 

 mistress out to see what was tins matter: but as 

 the old rats had run und(!r the coop she could 

 not see any thing. She went back to her soft 

 quiet l)ed, scolding because we had distuibed 

 lier slumbers. As we could talk only chicken 

 talk we could not tell her our troul)les and her 

 losses. 



Mother Biddie said that it was the way we 

 had been neglected, all the way from the lime 

 th(! eggs w(!re hatched up t© tlu^ present time, 

 that only fifteen out of twenty-four were alive 

 and onjy half grown. It was just that neglect 

 that rhade poultry-raising a failure with so 

 many, and tluit negligi-nce is so ofttui to be seen 

 everywhi;re on the farm— the reason farming 

 often docs not pay. 



Mother Biddie is now three years old, and she 

 knows a great deal; but she can't tell mistress 

 what she does know. One thing she knows she 

 w^onld not like to tell her if she could; and that 

 is, that it doesn't pay to keep old hens, as, every 

 year after they are three years old they lay less 

 and less eggs, and are more apt to die during 

 molting time, and it would pay old mistress 

 better in dollars and cents to kill off the old 

 hens while they are fat and healthy, for mas- 

 ter's dinner, and not leave them to die of them- 

 selves. Mother Biddie says there are many 

 hens that don't lay eggs at all: some of them 

 were injured when they were pullets, and have 

 never laid more than a few eggs, and yet they 

 are kept from year to year with nothing to do 

 but to eat and take up the room in the hen- 

 house: and yet mistress does not know this. If 

 she did she would clip the wing of every hen 

 that wanted to set. Soon every good hen would 

 be marked, and those that were incapable of 

 laying eggs could make potpies for master, 

 though master doesn't deserve potpies of us, 

 because he sets the dog on us when we get into 

 the barn or garden. The dog so frightens us 

 that we fly against the barn, and into such 

 places as hurt us inwardly, and are ruined for 

 laying eggs ever after; and the hired man 

 throws clubs at us, which makes us wild, and 

 we often run and fly when there is no danger. 

 Mother Biddie says if everybody would always 

 treat us kindly we would be very tame, because 

 we, being Plymouth Rocks, are a very gentle 

 breed of chickens. 



Master Williams, who owned mother Biddie 

 until she was a grown hen, always spoke kindly 

 to her, and she often ate out of his hand when 

 he came around. If he did not give her food 

 she would jump up and bite his hand, or pull 

 the leg of his pants, to remind him to give her 

 something to eat. He generally understood 

 what she meant, and would pull out of his 

 pocket a few kernels of corn, and stroke our 

 feathers, and we would look straight into his 

 kind eyes, and he would call us wise children; 

 but we knew it was he that was wise to treat 

 us so kindly and care for us so carefully that 

 few of us died while young, and we were all so 

 well and hearty we could do a chicken's best 

 for him. He bragged of us, and told what good 

 poultry we were, and how well we paid him. 

 He said he could make much more money out 

 of poilltry by requiring every person and every 

 animal to treat us kindly, and not frighten us, 

 I remember how well we all liked his big dog 

 Towzer, If any one of us squalled, Towzer 

 came bounding out to see what was the matter. 

 He never ran us nor tried to catch us, but 

 would run off all the minks and skunks and 

 rats, and would just as gently put his nose up 



