JENN Y 
J09 
window she will come, evidently feeling pleasure in being near 
me. She is most useful in the flower garden, for she eats a 
great quantity of insects. If an ant’s nest gets disturbed, Jenny 
is sure to be on the spot, pecking up the ants — peck, peck, peck, 
goes her little beak, as fast as ever it can go. She is also a 
good fly catcher, and amuses herself darting about the lawn 
after them. When on the window sill, she imagines the flies 
inside the window are outside, and there is such a tapping on the 
glass trying to catch them, for Jenny cannot understand the 
glass being between. I caught a bee unhurt one day, and put 
it carefully outside the window; unluckily for my bee, Jenny was 
on the watch, and caught and swallowed it in a moment. 
Jenny is three years old now. She laid 108 eggs during her 
first summer — a great quantity, I thought, for one small bird. 
Her first egg was laid on the front door-mat, very convenient 
and quite to one’s hand, but rather liable to be trodden upon. 
So I made her a nice little nest in the stable, put her egg there, 
and ne.xt day showed her the nest. She took to it at once, and 
never laid anywhere else all that summer. One day in the 
following spring I heard a fluttering noise in the kitchen, and 
upon investigation I found Jenny calmly sitting on the top shelt 
of the kitchen dresser, over an empty salt cellar, which she had 
coolly appropriated for her nest. “Jenny does not mean to lay 
many eggs this year,” thought I, considering the salt cellar held 
but one. Well, I wanted the salt cellar for my own use, and 
although the kitchen dresser was quite as convenient as the 
front door-mat, and even more to one’s hand, yet there were 
certain objections to it, so I made up her nest in the stable again, 
and Jenny was quite contented, and laid eighty-seven eggs 
straight off without stopping — one every day. She always says 
“ chick ” in a highly triumphant manner directly she has laid an 
egg. One day when I was busy gardening, she came to me in 
the greatest distress. “Tweet! tweet!” said Jenny, and ran 
towards the stables ; I took no notice, for I was busy. “ Tweet ! 
tweet ! ” repeated Jenny, and off she ran again. I was intent on 
tying up carnations, and never thought of what she wanted. 
“ Tweet ! tweet ! tweet ! tweet ! ” poor Jenny cried, and pecked 
my dress, and looked so miserable. “ What is it, Jenny ? ” said I. 
“ Chick ! ” replied Jenny, running off again, and at last I followed 
her. There she stood at the stable door, which had somehow 
got shut. I opened it ; that was what she wanted me to do, for 
with a grateful little chirp she flew upon her nest, as satisfied 
as could be. She knows her name quite well : “ Jenny,” called 
softly at the door, will bring her from the other end of the 
garden. 
That is all I have to tell about my pet, except that even 
as I write she finds her way into my room, and nestling at my 
feet looks lovingly up at me, with her dear little bright brown 
eyes. 
Bessie Hobart. 
