WHAT THE CHICKENS DID

I wonder if you have ever watched young chickens. You can’t help liking such babyish, fluffy little things; they are so sweet and so different from the grown-up hens. I know a little girl who cried out, “Look at all those canaries!” Of course, they are not really a bit like canaries, and it was only because of their yellow coats that she made the mistake.

Chickens are so lively and cheery, too; even when they are only a day old they are able to feed themselves, and will run about picking up grain. For such babies they are quite bold and will wander off a long way from the coop, but when anythingalarming comes along they will all rush back to Mother Hen, making funny little peeping noises showing they are rather frightened; and she answers, “Tuk, tuk,” as much as to say, “You are little sillies, but I’m very fond of you,” and takes them under her wing.

Joan was the little girl who had called them canaries, and you may guess how she got teased about it. She had come to stay with an aunt who had a farm, and as Joan had always lived in a town, she couldn’t be expected to know very much about animals or birds. She liked the cows and the goats and the horses but she loved the chickens best of all. When she was missing, her aunt always knew where to find her, and the chickens seemed to know her too and were tamer with her than with any one else.

When anything alarming comes along they will all rush back to Mother Hen.

A little tapping sound.

Several of the hens were sitting on their eggs, and Joan was told she mustn’t go near them or disturb them at all. While a hen is sitting she doesn’t want to be bothered to think of anything else except how she can best keep her eggs warm and safe. She has to be careful and patient till the chicks are ready to come out. This is an exciting time, and Joan used often to think about it. She did wish so she might see a chicken burst through its shell. She imagined there would be a little tapping sound, and that the other chickens would be very interested and listen, and then the shell would suddenly open and out would spring a fluffy yellow chicken. She had been to a pantomime once called “Aladdin,” and there had been a huge egg, supposed to be a Roc’s egg. In the last scene this egg was in the middle of the stage. A dancer struck it with a wand, when it opened, and out sprang a full grown fairy, dressed in orange and gold, with a skirt of fluffy yellow feathers. Somehow Joan had always imagined a chicken would begin its life in this dramatic way.

As yet only one small family of chickens had come out of their eggs but they were quite enough for Joan to play with. She soon made friends with them and gave them all names. There were: Honeypot, Darkie, Piggy, Fluffy, Cheeky, Dolly and Long-legs. Darkie was rather different from the others; he was a lively little chick with a dark coat and white shirt front. Cheeky was the boldest and most impudent. He would cock his little head on one side and stare at Joan, and he was always the last to run to Mother Hen if anything was the matter.

Dolly found a worm.

Cheeky dashing off with the prize.

Joan never forgot the morning Dolly found a worm. Instead of keeping quiet, the silly chick made such a fuss over it that the others soon found it out. Cheeky was on the spot at once, and before slow Dolly could say a “peep” he had snatched the worm out of her beak and was off. I wonder if you have ever seen a chicken running with a worm; it really is great fun. Joan shouted with delight to see that rascal of a Cheeky dashing off with the prize while poor foolish Dolly only looked on. However, one chick is never allowed to have a worm to himself for long, and soon Fluffy and Darkie were after Cheeky trying hard to get the worm for themselves. Round and round they ran, into the long grass round the food pails, into the corners of the yard and out again, till at last poor Cheeky despaired of ever being able to eat the worm, there never was a second’s time. At last, he tried to take a bite, and at once it was snatched away from him by Darkie, and then the race began again and they all rushed about after each other till Fluffy got it. He was just going off with itwhen Mr. Cock came along, a very proud and dignified gentleman. “Ah, Ha!” he cried, “What have we here?”

“Please, it’s mine,” said Cheeky, “he snatched it away from me.”

The cock looked very surprised, for I don’t think any other chick would have been bold enough to speak to him at all. Every one was rather afraid of him, for he had a very sharp beak and would take no back answers.

“It isn’t yours at all!” cried Darkie and Fluffy. “You stole it, you didn’t even find it yourself.”

“Please, don’t make such a noise,” said the cock, “I never knew such rowdy, ill-behaved chickens, you have no dignity at all. Now, so that there shall be no quarrel, I am going to remove the cause,” and he stooped down and gobbled up the worm.

Made them take some grain out of her hand.

This is really what happened; it is quite true for Joan saw it all. I am not quite so sure that the cock actually used these words because, you see, Joan couldn’t understand his language, but she thought he said something very like it.

I wonder if you have ever seen a hen feed her chickens. It is a pretty sight. She scratches on the ground, and when she finds something to eat, she calls her children. “Tuk, tuk, tuk,” she cries, and all the little chicks come scurrying up, for they understand quite well what she means, and are always ready for something more to eat. They peep out all sorts of pleased things in chicken language, and each tries to push the others away to get most for himself.

Joan loved to see them, and she used to imitate the old hen and call the chickens and give them some chopped egg. They liked this and got so tame that they would eat out of her hand. Joan’s aunt wasquite surprised, and one day she made them take some grain out ofherhand. Cheeky jumped on to her thumb, and Piggy and Fluffy lost no time in getting to their dinner. The other three were not quite so trustful. Honeypot looked up in her face as much as to say, “I know Joan, she’s a friend, but I’m not quite so sure about you.” The others, too, were a little undecided and hesitated for a time, so Joan felt the chickens were really sensible enough to know her, after all.

The chickens were so pretty and attractive that Joan wanted them to be like real people, and she thought of all sorts of ideas which she pretended they were thinking. But even she had to own they were not very original. If one did a thing, they would all do it. Their favorite game was certainly “Follow-my-leader.” One would run into a corner and scratch, and at once the others would run and scratch, too. Then they would all run to the gate, and if anything came alongthere would be a quick scamper back to mother and not one would be left behind.

Joan watched them once playing “Follow-my-leader” round a barn door. It was standing wide open and Fluffy ran behind it and poked his head through the crack, just below the hinge. It was not a big space, but Fluffy could just squeeze his neck through. Of course, the others must follow his lead and try and do the same; and all would have been well if only Piggy’s head had been the same size as the others. I expect it was because he had eaten rather more than the rest that his head was just a tiny bit bigger. When it came to his turn, he pushed hard to get his head through, as all the others had done, but when he tried to pull it back, it stuck. It was terrible; there he was held as if he were in a trap. Oh, what a noise he made! Joan heard his shrill frightened peeping and thought at least he must be nearly killed. She came running up and was very alarmed when shesaw what was the matter. But she was a sensible child, and instead of running away to call some one, she squeezed in behind the door, being very careful not to push it to, as that would have choked the poor little chick. Then she firmly took hold of Piggy, and putting two fingers through the crack she gently pushed the fluffy little head back through it and pulled the chicken out of danger. Just as she had put him on the ground and he had given another loud peep to show there was no harm done, the old hen came running up clucking in such an excited manner as much as to say, “it doesn’t do to leave these babies one minute, they are bound to get into mischief.” She had heard her chick crying and had hurried up to see what she could do. I wonder what she would have done to help. Something I feel sure, for it is wonderful how clever mother animals and birds can be when it is a case of taking care of their young.

Joan told her she had better lead her little family further away from such a danger trap, and to help her Joan called the chickens to the other end of the yard, and when they came running up, there on the ground lay a nice long worm she had found for them, and she took care that each had a bit.

It is very funny to see chickens drink.

It is very funny to see chickens drink. If you have ever watched them you must have noticed how they dive their beaks into the water and then quickly hold up their heads. They do this to let the water run down their throats for, you see, their mouths cannot shut up tightly and keep the water in like yours.

One morning all the chicks felt very thirsty. I expect eating worms makes you thirsty, and I am sure running about with a worm and never getting the chance to eat it must make you thirstier still. So first one and then all the rest ran to their saucer of water. Honeypot ran her beak along the water before holding up her head to swallow it. Of course, theothers must imitate her and do the same. When Cheeky came up, of course, he tried to do it too, but there was very little room, the other chicks had got the best places and they crowded him. Honeypot pushed hard against him on one side and Fluffy bumped into him on the other, so that he kept losing the water he had collected in his beak to drink.

“This is a silly game,” he said. “Can’t you let me get a drink?”

The others pretended they hadn’t heard, and kept on bobbing their little heads up and down and took no notice at all. Dolly, whose worm he had taken, was rather pleased to annoy him and gave Fluffy a sly push so that he bumped into Cheeky and nearly upset him.

“Well, you are rude!” cried Cheeky. “I never saw such ill-mannered chicks.”

“Who are you to talk about manners?” said Fluffy, while the others stopped drinking to listen. “Who took Dolly’s worm?”

“And what business is that of yours?” cried Cheeky, getting in a temper and flapping his stumpy little wings.

“Take care or you’ll get a peck!” Fluffy shouted with a threatening poke of his head. It was quite a desperate quarrel, but if you had been listening all you would have heard was “Peep, peep, peep,” a great many times over.

You know, I expect, that cocks are given to fighting; that is why you seldom see two cocks in the same run. The hens are different and live together very happily; they are too busy with their eggs and looking after their baby chickens to be quarrelsome. But Fluffy and Cheeky were going to grow up cocks which probably made them more inclined to quarrel. Joan thought, perhaps, they still bore each other a grudge over the worm which neither of them had been able to enjoy. So what began as a quarrel ended in a regular fight. Weren’t they naughty chickens? Cheeky and Fluffy grew so fierce and angry with each other that they began to fight like grown-upcocks. They tried to fly up and pounce down on each other, but their little wings were too short and weak and they could only give little hops. They pecked and jumped and peeped loudly while the other chickens stood round looking on, for they had never seen such a fight before. Cheeky gave one fly up and came down on Fluffy, giving him a really hard peck full on his little breast, when he fell over and lay quite still just as if he were dead.

They began to fight.

I should like to be able to tell you that, when Cheeky saw what he had done he was desperately sorry because he had not meant to hurt Fluffy like that. If he had been a child he would have been terribly sad and ashamed of himself, I am sure, but chickens are different. In spite of Joan’s ideas of them they haven’t really much feeling and very little intelligence, and so Cheeky just strutted off and didn’t seem to care a bit. He even began scratching the ground as if the fight had given him an appetite and he was looking foranother worm. The others, too, were quite happy and busy, and took no more notice of poor Fluffy lying in a little heap on the ground.

He fell over and lay quite still as if he were dead.

I don’t think this fight would have happened if the mother hen had been about, but through some mistake she had been shut up for an hour with some other hens who were not mothers. It was Joan again who came to see what was the matter. She was just too late to save poor Fluffy, and was heart-broken when she saw him lying on the ground so limp and still just as if he were dead. “Oh, you wicked chickens!” she cried, “what have you done to poor Fluffy?” Cheeky cocked his little head on one side as if he knew nothing at all about it, and the other chickens wandered off as if their brother who had got the worst of the fight was no business of theirs.

“What horrid, cold-blooded little things,” thought Joan, “how could they be so unkind?” But it is no good giving chickens credit for tender hearts and clever brains, for if you do you will be disappointed. And it will not be the chickens’ fault, for they can’t help it. Joan found this out after a time and she loved them for what they were and didn’t expect too much.

Very gently Joan picked Fluffy up and was glad to feel he was still warm. She carried him carefully to the kitchen where cook gave her a cosy little basket with a piece of flannel. She laid him on this and put him near the kitchen fire. Her aunt looked grave when she saw his limp little body, for she thought he was dead, but she let Joan do as she liked.

Poor Fluffy lay still so long that Joan grew tired of watching him and went off to see the cows milked. When she came in to tea she rushed first of all into the kitchen to see if he had moved. He certainlylooked better, less limp and even a little fatter, and actually his eyes were open. Joan was delighted, and while she was looking at him he opened his beak and gave a kind of gape. “Oh, auntie!” Joan called out, “Fluffy’s alive, and I believe he wants something to eat.” Wasn’t it splendid? The warmth of the kitchen fire had revived him. After Joan had fed him with a little warm food he was able to get up and walk about. She liked having him to herself like that, but when bedtime came and the other chicks went under their mother’s wing she took him back and he ran in and settled down. I expect he made up his mind it would be a long time before he would have another fight.

Hatching out is an exciting time. The hen has to sit on the eggs and keep them warm and quiet for three whole weeks. It needs a lot of patience, doesn’t it? Joan knew there were some eggs due to hatch out very soon and she did wish she might see them. She knew it was really impossible though because the hen must be left alone then and not disturbed at all.

Joan was very fond of animals and always wanted to do the kindest thing for them; she was a nice child altogether, and tried to help her aunt with the farm. She was having such a good time and thoroughly enjoying her holidays. Her cousin Lulu had spent her holidays there too andbeen rather naughty, so Joan’s aunt told her. It seems Lulu had been asked not to go near, or in any way disturb, the hens that were sitting on their eggs, and had promised faithfully not to do so. You may guess the kind of child Lulu was when I tell you she broke her promise.

There was a speckled hen who was a very good mother and had brought up ever so many families, and when Lulu was there her eggs were due to hatch out very soon. They were not the eggs she had laid herself but some very special ones. When they were hatching out that naughty Lulu went to look. She simply didn’t bother about her promise and even pulled one of the eggs out from under the hen to see if it was already broken. The speckled hen was furious and terribly flurried; she had never been interfered with before and took it very much amiss. She didn’t mean to hurt her babies, of course, but she got so worried and nervous that she was not carefulenough where she put her feet down and killed five of them. In her excitement she had trampled on them and the poor little things had scarcely lived at all. Of course, Lulu was very sorry, but that didn’t mend her promise nor bring the chickens back to life.

Joan was delighted when her aunt told her she might have a chance of seeing some hatching out. There were some eggs in the incubator which were due out very soon. An incubator is a sort of comfortable box which keeps the eggs as safe and warm as a mother hen, so that they come out in three weeks just as if a hen were looking after them. Only an incubator, not being alive, wouldn’t get flurried or excited at any one looking on. Joan was told there were eggs in it which were due to turn into chickens on Thursday or Friday.

One had still a bit of shell sticking to his back.

On Wednesday Joan kept running to look, on Thursday she still haunted the place, but on Friday she began to get alittle tired of nothing happening. In the afternoon she was having a game with Cheeky, Fluffy and Co. when she was called in to see a pretty sight. Some chickens had just come out, and one had still a bit of shell sticking to his back. He was looking at the rest of it in such a comical way as if he were asking how he had ever been cramped up in such a little space. They were darling little chicks, and Joan was soon busy giving them names. She always loved them and often played with them, but somehow they never seemed quite as clever nor as human as her first friends.

Salome.

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