Tales of a Poultry Farm

by Clara Dillingham Pierson

  THE MAN BUILDS A POULTRY-HOUSE

  It would be wrong to say that all the poultry on the farm really likedthe Man. The White Cock and the Brown Hen had never been known reallyto approve of anybody, and the Shanghai Cock was not given to sayingpleasant things of people. However, the Man certainly had more andmore friends among the fowls on the place, and when the White Cock andthe Brown Hen wanted to say what they thought of his ways, they had togo off together to some far-away corner where they could not beoverheard. If they did not do this, they were quite certain to beasked to talk about something else.

  The five Hens who had had Chickens given to them were his firmestfriends. It is true that each of them had really been on the nestlong enough to hatch out Chickens of her own, yet they saw thatanother time they would be saved the long and weary sitting. Theyremembered, too, the Man's thoughtfulness in putting food and waterwhere they could reach it easily on that first day, when they dislikedso much to leave their families. They had spoken of this to theGander, and had tried to make him change his mind about the fat tablein the cellar. They might exactly as well have talked to afeed-cutter.

  "I hear what you say," he replied politely (Ganders are often the mostpolite when they are about to do or say mean things). "I hear what yousay, but you cannot expect me to change my mind about what I have seenwith my own eyes. It was certainly quite wrong for him to get ready toburn those eggs, and the marking of them was almost as bad. As forthis nonsense about the table hatching out Chickens, that is quiteabsurd. You could not expect a Gander to believe that. It is the sortof thing which Hens believe."

  So the Man's friends had to give up talking to the Gander. Even theGeese were not sure that it was all right. "We would like to thinkso," they often remarked, "but the Gander says it cannot be."

  Now the fowls had something new to puzzle them, for the Man spent onesunshiny morning in walking to and fro in the fields which had alwaysbeen used for a pasture, stopping every now and then to drive a stake.Sometimes he walked with long strides, and then when his Little Girlsspoke to him he would shake his head and not answer. Afterward heseemed to be measuring off the ground with a long line of some sort,letting the Little Girls take turns in holding one end of it for him.

  After all of the stakes had been driven, the Man harnessed Brownie tothe old stone-boat and began to draw large stones from different partsof the farmyard and pasture. He even went along the road and pried outsome which had always lain there, right in the way of every team thathad to turn aside from the narrow track. All these were drawn over tothe stakes and tumbled off on the ground there.

  In the afternoon the Farmer from across the road brought a load oflumber, which he left beside the stone and stakes, and then the workbegan. The Farmer, who was used to building barns and sheds, began tohelp the Man lay stone for some sort of long, narrow building. Fordays after that the work went on. Sometimes the two Men workedtogether, and sometimes the Farmer drove off to town for more lumber,after showing the Man just what to do while he was gone. The Manseemed to learn very easily, and did not have to take out or do overany of his work. That was probably because he listened so carefullywhen the Farmer was telling him. People always make mistakes, youknow, unless they listen carefully to what they are told.

  The poultry strolled around and discussed the new building every day.They could not imagine what it was to be. At first, when only thefoundation was laid, it looked so long and narrow that the Ganderdeclared it must be for a carriage house. "Don't you see?" he said."There will be plenty of room for the platform wagon, the light lumberwagon, and the implements. When they are all in, there will be roomfor the Man to walk along on either side of them and clean them off.It is about the most sensible thing that I have known the Man to do."The Farmer always left his implements out in all kinds of weather, andsometimes one of his wagons stood out in a storm too.

  Nobody except the Geese agreed with the Gander, and they would haveagreed with him just as quickly if he had said that the building wasfor Barn Swallows. You see the Gander was always ready to tell what hethought, and as the Geese never even thought of thinking forthemselves, it was very easy for them simply to agree with him.

  Brown Bess looked at the long lines of stone all neatly set in cement,and said that she would not mind having one end of the building forherself and the Calf. "It would be much snugger than my place in thebarn," said she, "although that is all right in warm weather."

  Brownie may have known what it was for, because he had a great deal ofHorse sense, but if he knew he did not tell. Being the only Horse onthe place, and so much larger than any of the other people, he had notmade friends very quickly, although everybody liked him as well asthey had Bobs.

  It was not until the Barred Plymouth Rock Hen saw that the long spacewas to be divided into many small rooms that she guessed it might befor the poultry themselves. Even then she dared not tell anybody whatshe thought. "In the first place," she said to herself, "they mayprefer to run all over the farm, as they always have done, layingtheir eggs wherever they can. If any of them feel that way, they won'tlike it. If they really want a good house to live in, I might betternot tell them what I think, for if I should be mistaken they would bedisappointed." In all of which she was exactly right. It is muchbetter for people not to tell their guesses to others. There is timeenough for the telling of news when one is quite sure of it.

  As the work went on, the Barred Plymouth Rock Hen noticed that at eachend of the long space there was a sort of scratching-shed with an openfront. The distance between these end sheds was filled by two closedpens, two more scratching-sheds, two more pens, and so on. There weredoors from one room to another all the way along, big doors such asMen need, and there were little doors from each pen to itsscratching-shed just large enough for fowls.

  The Barred Plymouth Rock Hen grew more and more sure that her guesswas right, and still she said nothing, although she was happy to seehow warm and snug the Man was making the pens. "Why," she said toherself, "if he will let me live in that sort of house I will lay eggsfor him in the winter." She had hardly got the words out of her billwhen the other poultry came up. It was growing late, and they camefor a last look at the house before going to roost.

  "I declare," said the Gobbler, "I believe that house is for the Hens!"

  "Surely not," said the Gander. "You don't mean for the _Hens_, doyou?"

  "That is what I said," replied the Gobbler, standing his feathers onend and dragging his wings on the ground. "Why not? The Man knows thatTurkeys do not care much for houses, else we might have a place in it.I really wouldn't mind staying in a quiet home sometimes, but inpleasant weather my wives will go, and of course I cannot let themwalk around the country alone, so that is how I have to spend mydays."

  The Turkey Hens looked at each other knowingly. They wished that hewould leave them and their children quite alone. He was not fond ofchildren, and the year before the Turkey mothers had had dreadfultimes in trying to keep theirs out of his sight.

  "Let us go inside and see what it is like," said the little SpeckledHen, leading the way. Not until they reached the very last pen didthey see enough to make them sure that the Gobbler was right. Therethey found the perches in place, the nest-boxes ready, and a finefeeding-trough just inside the large front window, where they couldstand in the sunshine in winter and eat comfortable meals. The Cocksflew up at once to try the perches. "Fine!" said the Shanghai Cock."Fine! These perches exactly fit my feet. I am glad that he made themlarge enough. Low, too, so that we cannot hurt ourselves in flyingdown."

  "I like this," said the White Cock. "The perches are all the sameheight from the floor. I like a low perch, but not if other fowls areabove me. Now you larger fellows can't roost any higher than I do.Cock-a-doodle-doo!" It is not strange that he crowed over it, becauseevery night the fowls had been fighting for the highest roostingplaces, and the strongest were sure to win.

  "Nests!" cackled the Hens. "Nests! How pleasant this will be! Theyare all in a row, so we can vis
it with each other while we arelaying."

  "That is a good plan," said the Brown Hen, who really seemed pleasedat last. "I am always thinking of things to say when I am laying, andthere is hardly ever any other fowl near enough to hear. It has beenvery annoying."

  "I don't care so much about that," said a very sensible White Hen. "Ican stand it not to talk for a while. What I want is a warm nest wherethe rain cannot strike me, and where I shall have quite room enoughfor my tail."

  "That is what we want, too," said three or four others.

  "There have always been so many unpleasant things," said the BrownHen. "I have tried many places. I find a warm one where the windcannot blow upon me, and usually there is not enough room for my tail.No Hen can lay comfortably in a nest when her tail is pushed to oneside. I have tried laying under the currant bushes in warm weather,and there one has all out-of-doors for her tail, but on rainy days onehas to change. I do not like changes."

  "You do not?" asked the Shanghai Cock. "I thought all fowls likedchanges. If you live here in winter, you will be walking from the pento the scratching-shed half of the time."

  "You know very well what I mean," said the Brown Hen. "I like thechanges that I like, of course. Any fowl does. What I do not like isthe changes that I don't like." She said this in a dignified and trulyHen-like manner, and then she walked off.

  "All I hope," said the White Cock, sadly, "is that we shall not beshut up in these places during the summer. One cannot tell what mayhappen. One must expect the worst. When I see the wire front of thescratching-shed, I fear that we shall be kept in."

  "Nonsense!" cried the Shanghai Cock. "Don't be a Goose. The Man hasbegun to put a wire fence around a great yard outside, and there willbe plenty of room to run there if we are to live here. I do notbelieve that we shall be shut in, in pleasant weather."

  "Come," clucked the Barred Plymouth Rock Hen to her brood. "Come withme to the carriage house. It is time all good little Chickens wereasleep."

  She was very happy over the pleasant things which she had heard saidabout the Man. Only a truly polite Hen could have kept from saying "Itold you so," all this time, but she had shut her bill tightly andkept back the words she wanted to say.

  You remember that the Shanghai Cock had always liked the BarredPlymouth Rock Hen, and now he thought she should be told how they hadcome to feel about her friend, the Man. He was not used to sayingpleasant things, but having praised the perches made it a littleeasier for him. You know saying one kind thing always makes it easierto say another. So he ran after her.

  "Er-er! I don't want the Farmer to come back," he said. Then hethought that did not sound quite right and he tried again. "I'm notsorry he went away. I mean I'm glad that the Man came. All of us arenow, except the Gander and the White Cock, and you don't really carefor them, do you?"

  He looked at her lovingly with his round eyes, and the wind waved hisdrooping tail feathers. The Barred Plymouth Rock Hen thought that shehad never seen him look so handsome. "I don't care at all about them,"she replied quite honestly, "and I am glad that you and the otherslike the Man."

  She said "you" much more loudly than she said "the others," and theShanghai Cock must have known what she meant, for he stretched hisneck, opened his bill, and gave such a crow as he was never known,before or since, to give at that hour of the day.

  The Barred Plymouth Rock Hen went happily to her nest, and stayedawake long after her last Chicken was fast asleep. Even if one isgrown-up and the mother of a family, even if one comes of a finerbreed than one's neighbors, he cannot be truly happy without theirhearty liking. This Hen felt that she had it at last, and that just bydoing the thing which she thought right, but which the other poultryhad not liked at all at first. It is often so.