CREATURES OF MYSTERY 
67 
he might very well have escaped the penalty of it and lived to 
become a real rattler. The old gentleman was engaged in 
weeding out his rough rail fence row near the barnyard, and 
with five-pronged pitchfork was throwing the weeds over the 
fence into the “rough.” The old “biddy-hen” and her brood 
were following along behind him scratching and garnering a 
bountiful supply of worms and bugs. The little chicks were 
beginning to cut their wing and tail feathers. One little cock¬ 
erel had commenced, at a rather immature age, to assert his 
spirit of independence. He had advanced ahead of all the 
others where the weeds and briars had not been cleaned out, 
hoping, perchance, to find more worms. Suddenly he jumped 
straight up, flapping his wings and cheeping. Running toward 
his mother, he fell down by the wayside. The old mother hen 
lost no time going to investigate. Then, according to Uncle 
Dave, “She commenced one of the durndest fights I ever seed. 
She screamed so loud, fluttered so violently, and fought so 
hard, I almost got scared myself.” So, going up the fence row 
to learn what it was all about, he found her trouncing a small 
two-foot rattlesnake. He had been coiled in the fence jam at 
the time he fanged the little chick, but she proceeded to 
straighten him to full length forthwith. With her anger thor¬ 
oughly aroused, she was suddenly transformed into a fuming 
mass of feathered ferocity. Employing her thirteen weapons 
(ten scratchers, two wings, and a beak) with lightning-like 
speed, the snake could not so much as get organized for a fight. 
He had flattened himself out upon the ground, from chin to 
rattles, awaiting the passing of the storm. The old gentleman 
stood aside while he observed and admired her courage. When 
her desire for revenge had been somewhat appeased, she re¬ 
turned to her brood, clucking, and with feathers all uncombed. 
Advancing upon him with a pitchfork, Uncle Dave addressed 
him as follows: “Why, you durn little fool, ain’t ye got no 
learnin’ ? Anybody could o’ tol’ ye not to mess up with an ol’ 
biddy hen.” Giving him a sideswipe upon the head with the 
flat part of his pitchfork, then impaling him upon the five 
prongs, he proceeded to rake him off his fork over the top rail 
of the fence, then returning to his work. Quite true! The old 
