352 Next to the Ground 



young one. The beards came out the first 

 winter and got two inches long. They were 

 three inches the second wiiiter — after that 

 truly patriarchal. The gobblers were very 

 high-mightiful toward the hens, ruffling and 

 shouting at them, almost from the minute 

 they swallowed their morning corn. But the 

 hens did not seem to mind in the least. 

 They had a way of setting one wing upon 

 the other above the back, flirting the tail, and 

 going exactly when and where they pleased. 



Watching them to the nest was fine and 

 ticklish work. As certain as you let them 

 see you, they led you a merry dance. A hen 

 starting for her nest left the flock, pretending 

 to feed away for maybe fifty yards, then set 

 off, running, in almost a contrary direction. 

 She doubled more than once in the course 

 she laid, and if she knew herself followed, 

 went directly from the nest, scratched out a 

 false nest beside a log, or likely brier clump, 

 and squatted down in it, never moving until 

 she was satisfied she had tricked the watchers. 

 When they were safe away, she fluttered up, 

 and half flew, half ran towards the real nest, 

 hurriedly laid her egg beside the others, got 

 up, picked up leaves with her bill, and filled 

 the nest until every egg was hidden, then ran 

 home, yelping at the very top of her voice. 



Covering the eggs is a remainder from the 



