JULY 1, 1916 



561 



POULTRY DEPARTMENT 



A backyarder's dream. 

 Several years ago the farmer who had been ship- 

 ping us eggs wrote to say his hens were on a strilce, 

 and he could not send us any more eggs until spring. 

 This was to us an annoying state of affairs, for the 

 bacon-and-eggsfor-breakfast habit was firmly fixed in 

 our home. We held a council of war — wife and I — 

 and resolved to produce our own eggs, tho at that 

 time we knew about as much about hens as the 

 average beekeeper does of integral calculus or the 

 Sanskrit language. 



I knew how to incubate bacteria, and could care for 

 chicken pox in the children, so why could I not learn 

 the ins and outs of hens ? Then, too, I am always 

 spoiling to be making something with tools and 

 working with my hands at some outdoor task. This 

 is my gymnasium work, and it pays me so well in 

 health benefit that I could well afford to lose money 

 in my outdoor hobbies. Of course, as wife says, my 

 hands do not always look as nice and feel as soft 

 as a doctor's should, perhaps, but I am not of the 

 soft-handed class; and unless I work physically I 

 am not happy or well. 



The henhouse was built — a lean-to at the side of 

 my garage, 9 by 18 feet, with a large lot behind for 

 a range. A part of my garden lot has trees ; and 

 about these a space of 30 by 70 feet was fenced for 

 the young stock. 



My original flock was 12 hens and two cocks 

 bought from a neighbor at one dollar each; a choice 

 strain of White Wyandottes, the hens from a well- 

 known breeder of the fowl who wins many prizes in 

 the shows, and the cocks from a distant breeder 

 famous in poultry circles as a prize-taker with this 

 breed of hens. I considered it a good bargain, and 

 offered to me only because my neighbor had sold his 

 place and had to dispose of his birds because of no 

 place to keep them. 



I bought two incubators, and made some fireless 

 brooders. We began hatching early in order to learn 

 the work and be prepared for failures. I sent also 

 for several settings of eggs from well-known con- 

 cerns offering this breed, hoping to mix in the best 

 blood I could find in making my stock as strong and 

 nearly right as possible. 



I will not detail the various experiments and cost- 

 ly mistakes we made the first year. I will not tell 

 how we tried Runner ducks and White Leghorns; 

 how the rats killed some of our flocks, or about the 

 several troubles we had with white diarrhea, 6ore 

 eyes, etc. It would make too long a story. 



The book-keeping department of the enterprise 

 was carefully attended to, and the end of the first 

 year showed that the hens had paid for their own 

 feed, paid for the plant, and we went into winter 

 quarters with a flock of 120 fine birds, carefully 

 selected from some 400 that were hatched. 



The hens and pullets were again culled down to 

 about 60 by selling all not laying by the first of 

 January. This has been my rule for the several years 

 I have conducted the hen-plant on our back yard. I 

 have culled, first, for shape and appearance, health, 

 vigor, etc. ; and, second, for winter-laying tendency. 

 The second year, I discarded the smaller indoor 

 fireless brooders for a colony brooder built in the 

 large sunny room of our basement where the fur- 

 nace keeps the temperature at 70, and the heater run 

 by natural gas does the rest of the heating. This 

 eliminates the many units. I have, since this plan 

 was used, one unit, except at breeding time, for the 

 grown stock and one unit for the young chicks. 

 Such a plan greatly reduces the time required for 

 the work. 



The second year the books showed a profit of 

 $157.50, and we went into winter with a few more 

 than 100 birds. 



As soon as people knew of what fine success I 

 was having with this strain of White Wyandottes 

 many wanted settings of eggs. We also sold a good 

 many day-old chicks locally, tho making no effort to 

 sell by mail. We never tried for show prizes, mere- 

 ly striving to build up a strain of winter layers that 

 any backyarder might establish a paying plant right 

 at home and have plenty of eggs when they are hard 

 to find of good quality, and in price from 40 to 60 

 cents a dozen. 



The third year the books showed the net to be 

 over $350, besides we had built another henhouse 16 

 by 13 feet at the rear of the garage. The buildings 

 are made of tile, and are warm, well ventilated, and 

 dry. I feed mostly commercial "scratch" and dry 

 mash of bran, corn meal, and meat scrap, with plen- 

 ty of green stuff, using in winter sprouted oats, 

 beets, small potatoes, and cull apples. I am near 

 large greenhouses, and easily get lettuce, cabbage, 

 and celery scrap for the labor of gathering it. 



The new house will enable us to run a 200-hen 

 plant; and with a little advertising effort, and still 

 further care in breeding this strain for winter lay- 

 ing, I feel sure that from this on we may easily 

 make $500 a year from the hobby — such as we call 

 it — that was started somewhat in spite because a 

 farmer failed us in supplying eggs. Hens will pay 

 in winter, and I have proved this. I admit it may 

 take years to breed the flock to a winter-laying stat- 

 us, and I confess one must give them intelligent 

 care as to feed, warmth, exercise, etc. 



Any back yard with a flock of fifty hens, attend- 

 ed as I have cared for mine, can from the eggs and 

 meat buy all the feed, and have a profit that will go 

 a long way toward reducing the cost of living. I can 

 show any one willing to work a little with the hands, 

 and use a little of that so-called gumption, how it 

 may be done. 



They may talk about the American eagle, or the 

 birds of paradise, the beautiful pheasant, the strut- 

 ting turkey — of the peacock with his wonderful tail; 

 but the real bird — the one that gets my admiration 

 and respect — is the faithful winter-laying White 

 Wyandotte hen. Her song is sweeter to me than 

 any fabled nightingale, and her fruit — she is known 

 by her fruit. 



So it was not a dream, after all. 



Youngstown, O. Dr. C. E. Blanchard. 



There are two expressions in the above 

 letter that hit my case exactly. 1. " I am 

 always spoiling to be making something 

 with tools, and working with my hands at 

 some outdoor task." Again, "Unless I work 

 physically I am not happy or well." In 

 regard to the soft hands, and always look- 

 ing and feeling nice, it is not many days 

 since Mrs. Root gave me a regular over- 

 hauling because of my dirty hands. She 

 said I would have to get a good stiff brush 

 and some soap, and get the black dirt out 

 from around my finger-nails, etc. I think 

 T did something of the kind ; but before the 

 day was over I got hold of a choice plant 

 that liad to bet set out carefully; and our 

 best soil, even in Florida (that is, where I 

 have doctored it year after year so as to get 

 it in shape to make things grow) gets in 

 and around the finger-nails when you get 

 right down into the dirt, and so it takes a 

 great deal of scrubbing to get it out. A 



