THE BROODY HEN 73 



shape as instinct prompts. In rides where the old 

 underwood stumps have not been grubbed, pheasants 

 love to nest on the stumps' tops. In spite of annual 

 trimming, the stumps for years continue to throw up a 

 mass of leafy shoots. The pheasant creeps between 

 them, and is perfectly hidden at least, as to her head 

 and body. We recall a nest in such a spot within a 

 foot of a path where many people passed daily. Not 

 one discovered the pheasant's secret, except a keeper 

 who saw her protruding tail. The pheasant had 

 forgotten about her tail. Naturally the keeper was 

 annoyed at her stupidity in thinking that because her 

 body was hidden her tail could not be seen. Fearing 

 lest others should discover the nest on this account, he 

 went for a pair of his wife's scissors, and made sure 

 that the tail would tell no more stories. 



The wisest poultry-farmer does not understand 

 broody hens better than the gamekeeper. The 



ways of the broody hen are at once deep, 

 The and stupid, and annoying. No power on 



Hen earth will force a broody hen to sit when she 



is in a revolting spirit. To take a hen from 

 the nest of her choice and expect her to sit properly on 

 a fresh nest, where even pheasants' eggs costing a 

 shilling apiece await her, usually means disappoint- 

 ment. Yet it is as risky to put the pheasants' eggs in 

 the broody hen's chosen nest. Other hens will disturb 

 her, rats are likely to steal the eggs, dogs may worry 



