162 THE DESERT AND THE ROSE 



chicks bred in our climate, who are squealing and 

 scratching soon after they -get out of the shell! I 

 surely fed mine, and very soon too — hard boiled 

 eggs and cracker crumbs every two hours for a 

 day or so, and never leaving them to starve in the 

 house at night. Thus my stock was in demand in 

 distant States, because they were sturdy, active 

 and healthy, and never by any chance weak or 



"leggy." 



A tragi-comic episode in relation to the un- 

 naturally maternal yearnings of Minorcas in this 

 climate is worthy of mention. A premium-win- 

 ning hen insisted on setting, so after vainly attempt- 

 ing dissuasion I gave way, and in due course she 

 hatched out. A Langshan following suit 1 pre- 

 sented her with the two broods, for I doubted the 

 reliability of a mother who was a member of the 

 fiery Mediterranean race. The despoiled hen I 

 turned loose with the flock. The highly capable 

 Langshan disposed of all the chicks beneath her 

 ample wings, and I considered the affair settled. 

 Not so the outraged Minorca. For days she fol- 

 lowed her triumphant rival around, clucking and 

 scratching and using every means in her power to 

 purloin the chicks. But they would have none of 

 her; their present mother was too feathery and 

 comforting. At last the bereft hen's appeals found 

 their way to one heart, and a single chick abandoned 

 the comforts of home. But to see that hen gather 

 in her prize ! She fussed and rustled and scratched 

 for that solitary chick as if she had at least twenty 

 to provide for, and by sheer pluck and energy 



