4-i6 
AMERICAN AGRICULTURIST. 
[December, 
stuti; tliey rarely lay more than G or 7 eggs, 
while domesticated ones lay 10 or 11. Like 
other geese they breed in pairs, and a lone gan- 
der will often, perhaps always, mate with a 
lame goose, if one be presented. The progeny 
of this cross is a hybrid, or "mule," and unfer- 
tile. It is, however, a magnificent bird, some- 
what resembling its sire in plumage, but the 
colors are duller and vary considerably. These 
hybrids are larger than either parent, very 
fine eating, and under the name of " mongrel 
geese" bring a great price in the market. 
The Musk Duck. 
The Musk or Muscovy Duck, (Gairina moscha- 
to) is a native of South America, but a frequent 
denizen of our poultry yards. The most, notice- 
able peculiarity of the species is the great differ- 
ence in size between the sexes. The ducks 
weigh from four to five and a half pounds, and 
the drakes just about twice as much. The 
ducks closely resemble common ducks of the 
same colors, differing chiefly in the greater 
length of the body, and in a smaller amount of 
carunciilated flesh upon the head, and at the 
base of the bill. In the drakes this bloody-red, 
irregular mass of flesh extends from the bill 
over the eyes, anil covers the cheeks more or 
less. They are of various colors, from a blue- 
black, with rainbow iridescence, passing through 
all shades of bluish-slate color, and all degrees of 
piedness, to pure white. Yellowish-brown and 
white ducks also occur. Those breeding pure 
white are most highly prized as a matter of fancy. 
They are fair layers. The eggs are of a grayish- 
white color and not larger than those of common 
ducks. The duck sits about five weeks, and 
the young are hardy if not hatched until settled 
warm weather. The name " Musk " is derived 
from the scent of the oil secreted in a gland upon 
the rump of the drake. The appellation 
'• Muscovy," as if they came from Russia, is a 
corruption. The drakes associate readily with 
common ducks, and the hydrid produced is a 
large, fine bird, superior for the table, and 
easih' fattened, but incapable of breeding. 
The engravings of these ducks, and also of 
the wild geese on the preceding page, are por- 
traits by Herrick of speciinensin the possession 
of Mr. Stark, of Manchester, New Hampshire. 
Walks and Talks on the Farm— No. 60. 
The knolls on my farm are full of stones, and I 
have determined to get them out. They were put 
thereon purpose to be got out. Darwin ridicules 
such an idea. (Animals and Plants under Domes- 
tication. Vol. II, p. 515.) But then Darwin never 
cleared up land, probably never dug many un- 
derdrains, and does not know what glorious fun 
it is to get out stones. I pity the farmer who 
does not feel and know that the earth was made 
for man, and that when his plow strikes a stone 
it is evidence that that stone was put there to 
be got out. It was not put there to knock a 
guard off the reaper, or break a plow point, or 
batter the harrow teeth, or smash a cultivator ; 
it was put there to be got out. Let this idea 
once enter a man's mind and grow there, let it 
be strengthened by his own growth, and by his 
experience and observation, and it will be of no 
use lo te 1 ! shell a man that "that stone can't be 
got out." He knows better. He knows it was 
put there on purpose to lie got out, and he can 
do it. For forty years the knolls on my farm 
have been scratched over. You cannot plow a 
rod without striking a stone. Consequently 
the land is not half worked, and does not pro- 
duce half a crop. Of course everything cannot 
be done at once, and the early settlers had 
enough other work to do without getting out 
stones. But now the old rail fences are decay- 
ing, and it is time to get out the stones and lay 
wall. I have done only a little of this work, 
and feel all the enthusiasm of a beginner. 
It is not half the labor I expected. We attacked 
the worst knoll on the farm first. There was 
about a quarter of an acre. We plowed round 
it, turning the furrows down hill. We soon 
struck a stone, and got it out by the aid of crow- 
bars, but not before the plow had struck two or 
three more. Some of these were large, and we 
had to dig round them; but they were all got 
out, and the plow again started, but had not 
gone two yards before it grazed another two or 
three inches below the surface. "It's a big 
tin," said Conrad, "and won't do any harm." 
" We will have it out, nevertheless," I said, 
while the expression on the men's faces showed 
that they " guessed he'd soon get tired o' this 
kind o' work." And it did look a little discour- 
aging. But I have not had five years' experi- 
ence of a pretty rough kind of farm life for noth- 
ing. My faith in brain and muscle is strong, 
and I have never yet undertaken to do anything 
that ought to be done without finding, sooner or 
later, a way of doing it. It was so with these 
stones. After going round once, we went round 
again in the same furrow as deep as we could 
get in the plow. The wider and deeper the 
furrow, the easier is it to get out the stones. 
Good-sized stones, by taking a little pains, could 
be rolled out, — it being down hill, — with the 
plow-. And this gave me a new idea. " Here's 
another," called out Conrad. " Wait a minute," 
I said, "try it with the plow." "It's too 
big." But the horses stirred it. " Try again, 
and I will help with the crow-bar." A good 
pull and out it came. Conrad laughed, shook 
his head, and said we should break the plow. 
It was a steel plow, with a steel point, and I 
knew from experience would stand pretty hard 
usage. We proceeded in this way, men and 
horses getting more confidence. There were 
two men besides Conrad and myself. I had a 
strong, narrow underdraming spade, and I soon 
found that it was far better than a crow-bar for 
getting out stones. It carries its own "bate" 
or fulcrum. With this spade Conrad and I 
could plow out stones weighing three, four, or 
five hundred pounds. When we struck one that 
was too much for us, we called for more help, 
and we found comparatively few that we could 
not get out at once with the plow, aided by the 
spade and a couple of crow-bars. We let the 
horses pull just as hard as if they had been 
hitched to a chain round the stone. It was not 
long before the men were unwilling to do much 
at a stone before seeing what the horses could 
do with it. We got out stones that it was all 
that four horses could do to draw away 
on a stone-boat. These, of course, gave us a 
little more trouble. We had to dig under them 
so as to get in a long lever. With this, and 
with the aid of the horses, crow-bars, etc., we 
succeeded in getting them out in less time, it 
seems to me, than we could have attached the 
hooks of a stump-puller to them. We got them 
all out without breaking a single thing. The 
main strain is on the point of the plow, and we 
found it necessary to watch the bolt, to see that 
the nut was screwed up tight. I question if 
there is any more danger of breaking the plow 
in this way than there is in striking a large 
stone when the horses are moving on at a fair 
rate in plowing. The one is a blow, and the 
other merely a steady pull. I feel as much 
elated at getting the stones out of this hill as 
Tim Bunker did at knocking the bottom out of 
Jake Frink's horse-pond. Instead of an inch or 
two, we can now plow a foot deep, and it turns 
up likeagarden. Thesoil round these limestones 
is always rich, and I expect to see some tall 
barley on this knoll next summer. As soon as 
I have earned another holiday we will go at the 
next knoll, and pile up the stones so as to draw 
them away in the winter. 
One of the best breeders of Short-horns in 
England is a lady — Lady Pigot of Branches 
Park, Newmarket. She has just issued a cata- 
logue of her herd, and prefaces it with some very 
sprightly and sensible remarks. She says: "I 
know that some breeders have laughed at my 
making such a point of the milking properties 
of a cow, but I am certain that we shall eventu- 
ally have to consider this as the next step in which 
we must improve our cattle." There can belit- 
tle doubt on this point. We want cows that are 
good at, the pail, and that will fatten rapidly when 
dry. The two qualities are not inconsistent. 
We often have Short-horns that will fatten easily, 
but will give little milk, but do we ever have a 
well-bred Short-horn capable of giving large 
quantities of rich milk, yet which will not fatten 
rapidly when dry? And if so, why? Will not 
the steers from such a cow fatten just as well as 
from one that is a poor milker ? A good milker 
must have a mild eye, a quiet disposition, good 
constitution, splendid digestion, and be a large 
eater. The latter is absolutely essential. I have 
never yet seen or heard of a great milker that 
was not a great eater. It must be so. She can- 
not make rich milk out of air and water. As 
well expect a mill to turn out large quantities 
of flour without supplying it with grain. And 
the same is true of a fattening animal. The 
qualities named are just as essential for a fatten- 
ing steer as for a milch cow. Lady P. says : 
"That a propensity to milk well is traceable 
through a whole family no one can doubt who 
has been at the trouble of noticing, even in one 
limited herd, what differences there are as to 
one tribe being always good for the pail, the 
other just the reverse; and when we see farm- 
ers prefer the great, coarse, half-bred bull for 
his herd of dairy stock, rather than give a trifle 
more for a smaller, but purer bred beast, can 
we wonder at the scores of slow-growing mon- 
grels I hat frequent our fairs and markets! But 
to go a step farther — do farmers, as a rule, ask 
what sort of a milker the dam, grand dam, etc., 
was of the bull they are about to buy? Seldom, 
if ever. At the auction of the late Mr. J. Cloun's 
herd, last year, two miles distant, a friend of 
mine heard a fanner say, when anon-pedigreed 
cow was brought into the ring, 'Ah, them's the 
sort, none o' yer high-fashioned stock for me ; I 
likes 'em with constitootions, and black noses, 
and crtimpled-up horns; ' and he actually bid 
for and got the ugly thing, though the pedi- 
greed cow, just before sold, was a neat, com- 
pact little cow and a great milker, and both 
went within a pound one of the other ! So much 
for the ordinary farmer's sagacity! But we 
Jicir men of great intelligence and powers ol 
appreciation, though certainly, in my humble 
judgment, hot many of them are to be found 
in Suffolk." That is good for a lady. 
Here is another specimen of her style of writ- 
ing: "Victoria Regia is a marvellous breeder; 
500 guineas was given for her dam, Victoria, in 
1300, and when Ward brought home my new, 
unseen purchase, he gravely shoo'; his head. 
'Site's just a neat little cow, but— 500 guineas 
