THE PSYCHOLOGY OF THE FOWL 249 
and the flock will stampede on the instant. Wireless telegraphy 
was not invented by Marconi. Fowl are a curious compound “of 
fear and fearlessness. They are either fleeing from you or cheeking 
you. Ihave had fowls that flew all over me, pecking and thrusting 
their heads into the feeding-pail, eating the snow off my boots, 
sitting on my head or shoulder and acting as impudently as a 
street arab in the Strand. With the slightest attention fowls can 
be tamed and domesticated to a degree. I knew a lady who kept 
a couple of dozen and she had names for them all and spoke to 
them as she would to her dog. She declared they knew every word 
she uttered; she allowed them to invade the house, where the 
bathroom and her own bedroom were not unknown to them. No 
fowl is so utterly human as the Rhode Island Red. It will go out 
walking with you, listen to all you say and look up into your face 
with an intelligence that must be seen to be appreciated. I have 
a very big hen which lays very few eggs, but she makes up for the 
deficiency by accompanying me round the nest-boxes and rejoicing 
with me when the egg baskets are full. Her eyes are red, and 
one day when I was getting few eggs I could have persuaded 
myself that I saw a tear glisten and glide down her cheek. 
Oh yes, I know that hens are stupid, if that word is strong 
enough. They upset their water, they walk with filthy feet among 
their food, they foul their own nests, they fight and quarrel, and 
when one is bleeding they all peck it. They have no fine feelings, 
and if one of their number dies, they will walk over it, tread on it 
with callous unconcern. They are practically cannibals, and woe 
to the weak one, which will quickly go to the wall. After all, are 
they not things of a day, born to extract all that seems good to 
them out of the little hour they strut upon the stage? They live 
their lives rapidly. Born within twenty-one days of their con- 
ception, independent of parents at birth, potential fathers and 
mothers at six or eight months, fully matured at eighteen months, 
aged at two years, and seldom allowed to see their third birthday. 
They are wonderful things, full of vigour, overflowing with vitality 
and capable of reproducing 500 of their kind. Man, the overlord, 
has domesticated them and dedicated them to his use. The fowl] 
