Choosing the Breed 9 



bounds. Then he stopped all holes where they 

 might have crawled through. 



The next morning they were out again. This 

 time the chase was longer. The following day 

 brought them out once more. Now he resorted 

 to a fish net on a long pole. Stealing up behind 

 the pullets he would clap the net over them, and 

 then, clawing out a bunch of wing feathers, he 

 would throw them over the fence, with a stem 

 command to go and lay some eggs. 



As they grew more, they flew more. Pulling 

 wing feathers did no good, and raising the nets 

 did no better. He declared they could fly to a 

 crow's nest with their feet alone. 



Saddest of all, they learned to elude the hand 

 net. At this, the old whaler lost what little temper 

 he had left. Taking an old rake handle, he ad- 

 vanced upon the unsuspecting fowl, and, with a 

 skill developed by many a long whaling cruise, 

 transfixed the guilty bird with his wooden harpoon. 



At this his neighbors decided that the limit was 

 reached. He was advised regarding his hens. He 

 took the advice, sold his Leghorns to a peddler, and 

 returned to his Rhode Island Reds and peace. 

 But he always held me to blame for leading him 



