HOW WE FARED. zij 



Americans call "a large order;" birds of prey of many 

 different sorts are constantly sailing over head, with 

 sharp eyes on the look-out for opportunities of plunder; 

 and jackals, wild cats, lynxes — or, as the Dutch call 

 them, rooikats — and numerous other four-legged free- 

 booters pounce at night on those hens foolish enough 

 to make their nests far from the comparative safety 

 of the house ; the occasional discovery, in some distant 

 bush, of a collection of empty eggshells and a heap of 

 drifted feathers proclaiming what has been the fate of 

 some long-missing hen or turkey. 



Altogether, the poultry-keeper's troubles are con- 

 siderably multiplied by the surpassing imbecility of the 

 Karroo hens, which have no idea of taking care of 

 themselves, and, like the ostriches, stoutly oppose all 

 efforts made for their own welfare and that of their off- 

 spring. Their insanely erratic conduct during sitting 

 causes by far the larger proportion of nests to come 

 to nothing; and when they have succeeded in hatching 

 a few chickens, they look as if they did not quite' know 

 what to do with them. 



Secretary birds are sometimes taught to be very use- 

 ful guardians of the poultry-yard, especially against 

 aerial enemies, — the long-legged, solemn-looking crea- 

 ture stalking about all day among his feeble-minded 

 charges, with much consciousness of his own importance. 

 He is accused of now and then taking toll in the shape 

 of an occasional egg or young chicken — the latter being 

 of course bolted, anaconda-fashion; but his depredations 

 are not extensive, and one tolerates them as one does 



