on the Breeding of the “ Ruficaudad 107


Mrs. Poyser did when the Miss Irwins admired her farm. “ Oh,

Mrs. Peyser,” they used to sajr, “ I envy yon your dairy and I

envy you your chickens, and what a beautiful thing a farm house

is, to be sure ! ” “ An’ I say, 3^es, a farm house is a fine thing


for them as look on, an’ don’t know the liftin’ an’ the stan’in’,

an’ the worritin’ o’ the inside, as belongs to’t.” “ It’s your dead


chicks,” as she remarked on another historic occasion, “ talc’ the

longest to hatch.” But for that “little shower” I should have

been “ Ruficauda ” medalist.


A few months later, I read an account of the successful

rearing of a brood of “ Ruficaudas” in Scotland, and as I perused

the story, I thought of the words of a miner friend of mine:

“When a man’s mad he loilces reading owt that’ll make him

madder; he duunot want to be soothed, yo’ see.” Was it not

Edgar Allen Poe who sang that he dwelt alone in a laud of

moan ? Well, that was what I did, that da3^ at any rate.


For two years I was forced to give up 1113'’ birds, and only

began this summer with just a few. Amongst them I purchased

a reputed pair of “Ruficaudas”; but the moment they came, I

knew the3^ were two hens. For long enough I could not light

on a cock. I was offered any number of hens as pairs, but had

the strength of mind to refuse them, though most solemnly

assured that I was standing in 1113" own light. At last I heard of

a cock from Sheffield, and I lost no time in sending for him. I

shall never forget the jo3 r of that bird when I put him in with

the two hens. Depend upon it, when a man—or a bird—forgets

what womankind can give him, he is nearer six by three than I

should care to be. He sat on a bough between the two, and told

them as plain as a bird could, that if either dear charmer were

absent how happy he could be with t’other. The way those two

hens fought was a caution ; and to save the life of one, I had to

intervene. The elder of the two hens was clearly of the opinion

of a poacher I once knew : “ Fight,” he used to say, “ does seem

to sweeten a man’s victuals”; for after a particularly vicious

onslaught, she would fly down to the seed tray and make a

hearty meal.


We learn b3 7 our mistakes, so I registered a vow that if

ever I had the luck to get a nest again, I would see that it had a



