CHAPTER IX.Poultry.
“Grandmamma, pray where are you going?” asked Charles one morning, on seeing his grandmother walk out at the garden door.
“To feed my chickens, my love,” returned she.
“Then I will go with you, if I may,” said Charles. “And so will I,” said Arthur: and he threw down his peg-top in a corner.
“My speckled hen,” said Mrs. Mansfield, “came off her nest, yesterday, with a fine brood of chickens.”
Arthur.That is the one, is not it, ma’am, that has been sitting so close ever since we came?
Grandmamma.Yes, and for a fortnight before, which makes in all three weeks; the time hens always sit on their eggs.
Charles.I think they must be tired of keeping still so long.
Grandmamma.I believe, Charles, you would be tired of such confinement; but birds do not seem to mind it at all. Though so active at other times; when they have laid their eggs, they are quite contented to sit still till the young ones are hatched.
Arthur.Do all birds sit for three weeks, grandmamma?
Grandmamma.No: ducks and geese sit for a month; and pigeons and smaller birds for about a fortnight. Now you may give them some of these grits, and then you will have the pleasure of seeing them peck.
Charles.Let me have a handful, if you please. Chick, chick, chick, chick! come here, poor chickey, and I will give you something to eat. Dear grandmamma! they will not let me catch them; and look at the old hen, she is almost ready to fly at me.
Grandmamma.She is afraid you are going to hurt her chickens, when she sees you run after them. Hens are often very fierce, if any one offers to meddle with their young ones.
Charles.Well then, poor things! I will not take you up in my hand, but I will give you your food on the ground. How pretty they look! They are the colour of my canary bird.
Arthur.I see the old hen does not eat much herself. She only pecks about the grits, to show them to her chickens.
Grandmamma.She is a very good mother; so we will give her some barley. That is the best food for the old ones.
Arthur.See, Charles, how oddly they drink! They turn up their heads whenever they swallow.
Grandmamma.By that means they let the water trickle down their throats.
Farm House Page 76.The Poultry Yard.London. Published by W. Darton Jun. Oct. 5, 1815.
Farm House Page 76.
The Poultry Yard.
London. Published by W. Darton Jun. Oct. 5, 1815.
Arthur.Then why do not we do so when we drink?
Grandmamma.Because our throats are not formed the same as birds’; for we are provided with a muscle, which carries down the liquor by its motion.
Charles.How the pretty creatures creep under their mother’s wings! and she puffs her feathers out, and makes herself as large as she can to cover them all.
Grandmamma.You see how Providence has provided for the welfare of all his creatures. Whilst they are too young to take care of themselves, he gives to the parent a strong affection towards them, and wisdom sufficient to bring them up. The mother,though generally timorous, and easily frightened, to preserve her young ones will boldly turn round and face almost any danger. You observed that the hen forgot her own hunger, when she was teaching the little chickens to peck; now she covers them with her wings to keep them from the cold, which, as they are not completely fledged, would probably kill them if it were not for her care.
Charles.And what will she do when these little things are grown as big as she is?
Grandmamma.Long before that time she will have cast them off. Brutes never care for their young when they are able to shift for themselves.
Arthur.That is very differentfrom us. I do not think my mamma will cast us off as long as she lives.
Grandmamma.I do not think she will. And I hope, my dear boys, that in return you will never neglecther. A chicken, you see, could not be reared unless the hen took care of it; but a child requires constant attention for many years; and even when grown up, the fondness of the parents still continues. Surely, then, nothing can excuse ingratitude and undutifulness towards them.
Arthur.No, grandmamma: so for the future I will always mind what my papa and mamma say to me; and I will try never to do any thing that I think they won’t like.
Grandmamma.That is a very good resolution, and I hope you will keep to it.—— Well, Charles, what do you say to the pigeons? They are pretty birds, are they not?
Charles.Indeed, ma’am, they are. I was looking at them falling head over heels, when up in the air.
Grandmamma.Those are called tumblers, that fly in that way. There are many kinds of pigeons. The white ones out there, with tails that stand up somewhat like hens’, are called fan-tails.
Arthur.What must we feed the pigeons with?
Grandmamma.You may give them a few tares, if you like; but here wehave no occasion to supply them with much food, for they come to the barn doors, and pick up the corn that is scattered about.
Charles.Are all those one brood, that sit together on the top of that cart-house?
Grandmamma.No. Pigeons never lay more than two eggs at one time; and the pair that are hatched commonly continue mates to one another all their lives.
Charles.Now let us look at the ducks and geese, if you please. The pond is nearly covered with them, I see.
Arthur.How very small some of them are! I should have thought that they were too young to be able to swim.
Grandmamma.Oh, they take to the water as soon as they leave the egg-shell. They are web-footed, and that enables them to swim.
Charles.What is being web-footed, ma’am?
Grandmamma.Having a skin to fill up all the space between the toes. When they swim, they paddle, or strike with their broad feet against the water; which gives them motion onwards.
Arthur.I suppose, grandmamma, you keep poultry for the sake of eating them!
Grandmamma.You are right. But do you know what is done with the feathers?
Charles.No.
Arthur.I do, ma’am. Beds and pillows are stuffed with them.
Grandmamma.And what use is made of the long quill feathers, that grow in the goose’s wing?
Arthur.I never have been told.
Grandmamma.The quill part, by being cut into shape, is converted into pens for writing.
Charles.Do only geese furnish pens?
Grandmamma.Some people write with crow-quills: but they are too small for a bold hand; so that they are very little used. The quills of the turkey are too hard; and those of ducks and chickens, on the contrary,are as much too soft. Swan quills, however, make excellent pens; but they are too scarce to be in general use.