"Almost always," Mrs. Spencer replied, "but this white hen you admire so much is a queer creature. If her chickens are not all white, she will not own them.
"We found it out in a strange way. In her last brood all the chickens were white but one. She was not kind to this one when it was little, and as it grew older she seemed to like it less and less.
"One day James saw her drive it away when the other chickens were going to bed under her wings at night, but he thought she would let it in to its shelter when the chickens she liked best were safe. The next morning when James went out to milk the cows, he had a great surprise.
"A half-grown kitten, which had come to us, was waiting to go into the barn with him and get the breakfast which James always gave it when he had milked. In company with this kitten was the poor little chicken that had been driven away by the hen."
"That was very strange!" said Robert.
"We thought so," answered Mrs. Spencer. "After this the kitten and the chicken became fast friends. They ate together, and slept together in the barn, and seemed very fond of each other."
"Did you ever know of another cat that was friendly with a hen or a chicken?" asked Robert.
"Yes. I remember that a cat which had been deserted, and had grown very wild, made friends with our hens. He often used to be seen feeding with them in the barnyard."
"I wonder the hens were not afraid of him."
"They seemed really to pity him and never tried to drive him away. At first, and for a long time, the cat was so wild he would not let any of the family come near him. I think he had been ill-treated. At last he learned that we were his friends, and he became very fond of us. We kept him until he died of old age."
"That speckled hen with eleven chickens looks gentle," said Robert.
"She is brave, too," said Mrs. Spencer. "Last summer, when she was roaming about with a brood of chickens, a large dog came into the yard through the gate, which happened to be open.
"The brave mother hen flew at him and came down on his back. She clung to him and pecked him with her sharp bill, until he ran howling out of the yard with the hen on his back."
"How far did she go with him?"
"She flew off as soon as he was fairly out of the yard and came clucking back to her chickens, her feathers all bristled up, as proud a hen as I ever saw. She is very fond of me. Just see this!"
Mrs. Spencer opened the door of the little house and called the speckled hen, who ran out clucking and calling her chickens after her. The whole brood crowded themselves into Mrs. Spencer"s lap, as she sat on the gra.s.s beside the house.
Robert laughed merrily. "That is the funniest thing I ever saw a hen do!"
"I never before had one that would get into my lap," said Mrs. Spencer, "though my hens often eat out of my hand."
"I thought hens were too stupid to care for any one," said Robert.
"I believe it is possible to win the affection of any creature we have under our care," said Mrs. Spencer.
[Ill.u.s.tration: A HAPPY FAMILY.]
HOW TO FEED AND CARE FOR HENS.
"Do you give meat to the hens?" asked Robert.
"They do not need meat in summer," said Mrs. Spencer, "because they catch bugs and gra.s.shoppers. In the winter, if it seems to be necessary, it is possible to buy animal food that is prepared for the purpose.
"I give them potato peelings, or small potatoes mixed with some kind of meal, and in winter I always warm their food before I give it to them. A very good supper is whole grain, but in the morning it is better to give them soft food.
"They must have lime in some shape to form the eggsh.e.l.ls. I give my hens burnt oyster sh.e.l.ls, pounded fine, or clam sh.e.l.ls. All the year they need some kind of green food; if they do not have this they are very likely to be sick."
"What do you mean by giving them green food?" asked Robert. "You cannot get gra.s.s in winter."
"That is true," said Mrs. Spencer, "but you can give them cabbage, which they like very much, or cooked vegetables. In the spring and summer they will enjoy the fresh clover. When they are allowed to have free range, they eat gra.s.shoppers and crickets and do not need meat.
"All fowls must have some kind of grit with their grain food. Crushed stone, which can be bought, will supply this need. Fowls must have clean straw for their nests, and dry earth and plaster or lime must be put on the floor of the hen-house under the roosts. It is important also to sprinkle dry sulphur in the nests once in a while, to keep insects away.
"They like dry earth for their dust bath. Did you ever see a hen lying down in the dust, and throwing it all over herself? She enjoys this just as much as you enjoy going into the salt water, and she needs it as much as you need your bath."
"I should think a hen would find it hard to know her own chickens."
"Oh, no! The youngest chicken knows the voice of its mother, and the mother can tell the difference between the cry of her chickens and the voices of those which do not belong to her.
"It is interesting, also, to watch the rooster care for the hens. When he finds something particularly good, he calls them all around him, and often he will not eat a morsel until he sees that they are satisfied.
"Of course there are greedy roosters sometimes, as well as greedy boys and girls, but usually the rooster is good to the hens.
"Some thoughtless farmers carry live fowls with their heads hanging down. This is very cruel. Think how you would like being carried in that way. It is cruel also to crowd them into little hampers when they have to be carried to market.
"Fowls cannot be healthy if kept on the same ground year after year, for the earth becomes poisoned. They should be moved to new ground every year, and the soil occupied the year before used to grow grain, gra.s.s, and vegetables; then the fowls could be returned. Unless a movable coop is used it is a good plan to move the yard from one side of the hen- house to the other. If the fowls are diseased either through being kept on poisoned ground or as a result of crowding in taking them to market, their flesh cannot be wholesome for food.
"Fowls are sensitive, timid creatures, and should be treated with kindness. If one cannot take good care of them, it is far better to give up keeping hens and chickens."
ROBERT VISITS THE PIGS.
"Can I help you about anything this morning?" asked Robert of James, as he strolled out into the barnyard after breakfast.
"I am going to feed the pigs," said James. "You may go with me if you like."
Robert did not seem very much pleased with this invitation, and, as James looked surprised, he said:
"I do not like pigs, they are so dirty. Besides, they are always squealing, and they live in such a disagreeable place under the barn."
James smiled. "Come with me and see our pigs," he said; "perhaps you will like them better than you think."
James had a large wheelbarrow with him, and on the way he stopped in a fine field of clover and cut enough of it to fill the wheelbarrow to the very top. Robert helped him pile up the clover, and he would have liked to wheel the barrow, but it was too heavy for him.
They pa.s.sed on into another field where Robert saw a row of little houses. Each little house had a yard inclosed by a board fence, which was not too high for Robert to look over.
In the first yard was a fine, large sow and six clean little pigs, four of them white, and the other two black and white. They were frisking around their mother and playing almost as prettily as young puppies.
There was s.p.a.ce enough in the yard to give them plenty of room for their frolic.