188 
A CHAPTER ON FOWLS. 
although some of those who abused him the 
most, and vowed they would kill him if he got 
among their sheep, were afterwards caught let¬ 
ting their ewes into the paddock at night, where 
he was kept by himself. Well, these Merino 
hens came somewhere from the East Indies, and 
looked like young ostriches, running about the 
yard with hair on, and only a few feathers on 
their wings and in their tails. Their eggs, for 
now and then they laid one, were about the 
size of a common hen’s egg, of a salmon color, 
and sometimes a little speckled, like a Guinea 
hen’s. These Merinos were white, yellow, or 
sooty-brown in color; and when crossed with the 
common dunghill fowl—if said dunghills hap¬ 
pened to be a pretty good breed of themselves— 
made quite a tolerable fowl; but the more dung¬ 
hill you got into them, the better they were. 
There we had the Merinos. 
The next I got—for I believe you did not catch 
the chicken fever as often as I did—was the Ma¬ 
lay, Java, or some other Indian name, as the Co¬ 
chin-Chinas and Shanghaes (a )—though they, 
with the aforesaid Merinos, are all of the same or¬ 
igin, in fact, differing only in variety and locali¬ 
ty, as our dunghills do—were not among the im¬ 
proved names of that ancient day. Well, I got 
them, the Malays and Javas. Instead of hair for 
a covering, these had feathers, long, thin, and 
light.(i) In cold weather, they wanted as much 
nursing as a baby, and would freeze to death 
in a frosty night as quick as a young gosling, 
unless well tucked up with straw, or brought 
into the cellar or kitchen, as I often had to 
do. The cocks crowed as though they had 
the influenza, and were great on a foot race, if 
a smart dunghill happened to walk into the yard. 
These hens laid an egg, occasionally, of the 
salmon or buff color like the Merinos; and the 
result of their breeding was pretty much the 
same as with them. So I progressed; but final¬ 
ly settled down into a flock of fowls of perhaps 
half, to a quarter of the blood of these improv¬ 
ers, as I wanted something different from what 
everybody else had, although other folks, with 
nothing but good dunghills, could raise two 
chickens to my one; and my excellent mother 
used to wonder why our hens could’nt lay eggs 
as our neighbors’ did,for half the time we had’nt 
any of our own laying. To be sure, we had 
nice large chickens at thanksgiving and Christ¬ 
mas, and at other times, for the table, which used 
to make our friends stare when they saw them, 
and wonder where we got them; and that quite 
paid me for my trouble; but when they came 
to be carved, I found they preferred the plump, 
juicy pullets of the common kind, which we 
usually had by their side. The fact was, the 
big ones were dry, stringy, and coarse. Thus 
passed my boyhood chicken experience, and 
then came an interregnum. 
Twenty years ago, I became a housekeeper. 
Of course, I must keep chickens, and I got them, 
the best to be found, but was not anxious for 
the Malays, or any of their cousins-german 
from the Indies, so I tried the Polands. Their 
beautiful black plumage, and the large poppy¬ 
looking white tops on their heads, falling so 
gracefully over their faces, pleased me. They 
laid well so long as I kept them very warm; but 
the hens proved bad sitters, or rather did’nt 
want to sit at all. The chickens were very 
tender and hard to raise; their bodies light, 
and the flesh not well placed on the carcass; 
and on the whole, I did not like them, A few 
years’ experience and I let them go. 
I tried the Bantams. They were pompous, 
strutty, little bodies ; the valiant little cocks 
crowing about once a minute all day long, and 
the hens the most sociable, chatty creatures in 
the world. If the kitchen door happened to be 
open, they would be into the house forthwith— 
their feet into the bread trough, which was sure 
to be left uncovered for kneading just as they 
came in. If a plate with an egg or two in it hap¬ 
pened to be on the table, or in the cupboard, Miss 
Biddy was sure to sit herself down at once, and 
lay another by the side of it, or into the clos¬ 
ets, or the cradle by the side of the baby, or 
into your hat, if she could find it right side up, 
her ladyship was sure to make a nest. The 
fact is, they were charming little creatures. I 
loved them from my very heart, and they laid 
all the eggs they could; but their eggs were 
small, and the chickens were small, and they 
were small all over; and they were too pretty 
to kill, also; and so, betwixt these various qual¬ 
ities, the Bantams did not amount to much, 
although the children loved them, and keep 
them to this present day in high perfection. 
Then I tried the game fowls. They were 
hardy, good layers, and tolerably well fleshed. 
But they had black legs, (c) which I never liked, 
and being built for strength and agility, they 
were not heavy fleshed on the best parts of the 
carcass. They were so pugnacious, too, that 
half the chickens had their eyes knocked out 
before they got to be as large as quails; and 
they went groping and blundering about the 
yard like a party who had “taken a benefit” at 
Donnybrook Fair. The upshot was, they did 
not suit me. 
