Vol. LXVI. No. 2971. 
NEW YORK, JANUARY 5, 1907. 
WKKKTA'. $1.00 PER VEAR 
MAPES, THE HEN MAN. 
MOVING INTO THE BIG BARN. 
How the Birds Are Cared For. 
1 he new building was completed on time, for a won¬ 
der. 1 lie first stroke of the carpenter’s hammer was 
given the first day of October, and the last pat of the 
painter’s brush on the first day of November. The 
work was done by the day’s labor, employing two car¬ 
penters most of the time for about three weeks. Union 
rules prevail in this section, and carpenters charge $3 
for eight hours’ work. I notice that they are per¬ 
fectly willing to work nine or 10 hours at every oppor¬ 
tunity, charging extra for the overtime. The bill for 
carpenters’ work was $125. The painter employed was 
not a union man, and charged $2.50 per day of 10 
hours; his bill was only $8. The knots were treated 
with a coat of shellac and two coats of paint ppplied. 
Next came the job of moving the birds into the house. 
Not expecting to have quite enough pullets to fill the 
house, I selected 50 hens early in October that were 
then in full moult, and placed them by themselves. 
Most of these were at that time nearly naked, their 
bodies being covered with short pin feathers. These 
were first moved and shut in the upper story, then 
about 400 pullets, then enough yearling hens to make 
up the 500. Three old cocks and a dozen cockerels 
were also introduced. This made the upper floor pretty 
well crowded, but I kept them all confined there sev¬ 
eral days in order to accustom them to the perches. 
We took our time at it, moving a load of 50 or 60 
each morning, and it was the tenth of the month' by 
the time all were moved. I expected trouble when 
those old cocks were introduced, but for a wonder 
there were scarcely any battles. The surprise at the 
big gathering of birds must surely have paralyzed them. 
All in pure white and many of them are high scoring 
birds. In one pen of pullets I discovered traces of roup, 
or colds, after most of them were crated, ready to 
move. It is needless to say that I was worried. A dozen 
pullets had been taken from this same flock and put 
in the new building the previous evening. What if I 
had already planted the seeds of roup? They were 
quickly removed from the crates and yearling hens 
substituted. At this writing (December 1) the roup 
scare has about subsided, as no new developments have 
appeared. 
The first few days after the birds were allowed to 
come downstairs during the day it took two or three 
of us to drive them up the steps when it came time for 
them to go to roost. Since then the lower floor is de¬ 
serted absolutely and voluntarily as soon as night ap¬ 
proaches. 
“Well, if that is not a sight that is good for sore 
eyes.” 
This from the Deacon as I took him inside to-day 
and closed rhe door behind us. When he stepped back 
outside and glanced up at the space over the entrance, 
I asked him w u at he was looking for. 
‘‘To see if you had the proper label over the en¬ 
trance.” 
“What did you expect to see?” 
“It strikes me that ‘Hen Man’s Heaven’ would be 
very appropriate.” 
We stood with our backs to the door, in an in¬ 
closure eight feet wide and 12 feet long. On either 
hand is a hopper-shaped bin three feet high and 12 
feet long. Above these is wire netting (1-inch mesh) 
which admits light and keeps the hens out of this 
space. At the other end is a wire-covered door leading 
into the hens’ apartments. Hens (white beauties) to 
the right of us, hens to the left of us and hens in 
front of us. No wonder “Hen Man’s Heaven” was sug¬ 
gested to the Deacon. 
These hopper-shaped bins contain dry mash, and 
will hold half a ton at least. Openings at the bottom 
on the hens’ side allow the hens to help themselves at 
will, and are so arranged that the hens cannot waste 
any of it. A long drinking trough 14 feet long pro¬ 
jects into this jnclosure, far enough so that it can be 
filled without entering the hens’ quarters. 1 his is 
located just at the left of the wire door, and projects 
into the center of the hens’ quarters about 13 feet. It 
is six inches wide and five inches deep, lined with gal¬ 
vanized iron, and elevated a little from the floor to pre¬ 
vent litter from being scratched into it. A 40-quart 
can of milk or water is easily poured into it from the 
entrance hall. Any surplus to be removed goes down 
through the floor by pulling a plug at the farther end, 
as that end is slightly lower than the nearer end. Fill¬ 
ing this trough, scattering grain in the litter on the 
floor morning and afternoon, arid carrying in a few 
beets or turnips once a day, constitutes the regular 
daily routine of caring for this flock of 500 hens (with 
the exception of gathering the eggs) and takes perhaps 
half an hour. Most of the pullets were July and June 
hatched, and were not mature enough to be expected to 
lay when moved. The fi>w earlier hatched ones were 
purposely held back during October, by means of light 
feeding. Only one or two eggs a day were laid the 
fifst two weeks, but now the air is becoming vocal with 
song, cackle and crow, and over a dozen nests were 
occupied at the time of the Deacon’s visit (34 eggs 
were laid December 1). 
The first case for the hospital in November was a 
hemorrhage. I found one of the hens with head and 
neck all covered with blood one morning. Investiga¬ 
tion showed that the blood was oozing from one of the 
points of her comb. Judging from past experience, it 
was only a question about 24 hours before she would be 
dead. Whether such bleeding to death is started by 
fighting or otherwise, I am unable to say. They 
always seem to occur in Winter, and generally 
end in death if not discovered and treated in time. I 
caught this one at once, and tied a thread tightly about 
the tip of the comb so as to stop the flow of blood. 
I kept her in the entrance hall a couple of days, and 
then put her back with the rest. She is apparently as 
good as new. I began to think I was going to get 
through the month of November without a single loss, 
“GOOD OLD TIMES” TO DATE. AN O'X CART OVER A CENTURY OLD. Fig. 1. 
