THE YOUNG COCK AND THE EAGLE
This is a sad story. It is not pleasant to tell sad stories, but ifthey were not told once in a while, people would never know whatreally happens in the world. And surely you would not wish to misshearing of what was really the most exciting happening of all, duringthat first summer after the Man bought the farm.
You remember having heard something about the Young Cock. Before thecoming of the White Plymouth Rocks, there had been only three Cocks onthe farm. The Shanghai Cock was the oldest, and a very grumpy fowl,but quite sensible in spite of that. The White Cock was somewhatyounger than the Shanghai, and was not a very strong fellow. He wasalways unhappy about something, and it was said that he did not eatenough gravel. If that was true, he should not have expected to bewell, since his stomach would then have no way of grinding up his foodand getting the strength out of it. The Young Cock was a strong andexceedingly conceited fellow. You probably know what conceited peopleare. They are the people who think themselves very clever, but who arenot really so.
This last one was always called the Young Cock, because the other twowere so much older than he, although by this time he was old enough tobe over such foolishness as bragging and picking quarrels with others.He had feathers of many colors in his coat, and thought that one ofhis great-great-great-grandfathers had been a Game Cock. Game Cocks,you know, are often very beautiful to look at, and are great fighters.He was not really sure about any of his family except his mother,who had died the year before, and was a very common-looking Henof no particular breed. However, he had thought and talked somuch about Game Cocks that he had come really to believe in thisgreat-great-great-grandfather. It is good to have fine grandparents,and it is good to remember them and try to be the right sort ofgrandchildren for their sakes, but having fine grandparents does notalways make people themselves equally fine, and it is not wise to talktoo much about what they have been. It is better to pay more attentionto being what one should.
All summer the Young Cock had been growing more and more annoying inhis ways. He made fun of everybody whom he did not like, and sometimeseven of those whom he did. He crowed and strutted and strutted andcrowed. He called the Barred Plymouth Rock Hen "an old fogy," and theBrown Hen "an old fuss." The Barred Plymouth Rock Hen was not an oldfogy, but a middle-aged and very sensible fowl, and although the BrownHen was quite fussy, she was older than the Young Cock, and he shouldnot have spoken of her in that way.
He did not always go to roost quite as soon as the other fowls and,if he found one of them in the place which he wanted, he often pushedand shoved until he had the place and the other fowl landed on thefloor. "Get off of there," the Young Cock would say. "I want thatplace. Move along or get off!"
When he was really very young, the older fowls had hoped that he wouldoutgrow his rude and quarrelsome ways, so they stood it much longerthan they should. Now he was older and there was not a single excuseto be found for him. He might better have been punished for it whenyoung, because then he would have been well-behaved when grown up.
One morning he fluttered down from his perch in a very bad temper.Some of the Pullets, or young Hens, had been making fun of him thenight before and comparing him with the White Plymouth Rock Cock. Theymeant only to tease him, but it had made him cross, and he awakenedeven more cross after his night's sleep. He decided to show thosePullets that he was not to be laughed at. He was thinking of thiswhen he stalked out into the yard. Some of the White Plymouth RockChickens ran along on the other side of the wire fence, peepingprettily and wanting to talk with him.
"Go back to your mother," he said. "What business have you to betagging me around like this? I don't want to talk to you. Chickensshould not speak until they are spoken to. Run!"
Of course they ran. You would if you were a Chicken and a Cock shouldspeak to you in that way. They ran to their mother, and it took her along time to comfort them.
Next the Young Cock stepped directly across the path of the ShanghaiCock, stopping him in his morning walk. The Hens who saw it doneexpected the Shanghai Cock to fight him on the spot, but they sawnothing of the sort. The Shanghai Cock did not think it worth while.The saucy Pullets were eating in a corner of the yard and chatteringover their corn.
"Wouldn't it be fun to see the Young Cock get punished by theShanghai?" one of them said.
"Why don't you like him?" asked another.
"I do like him," answered the first. "I like him very much, but he isconceited and brags so that I wish somebody would teach him a lesson."
"Look!" cried another. "He is picking a quarrel with the White Cock."
They looked and saw him standing in front of the White Cock with hishead lowered, staring steadily at him. The White Cock looked as thoughhe did not care to fight, but being no coward, he would not turn histail toward the other and run away. He simply stood where he was, andwhenever the Young Cock lowered his head the White Cock lowered his.Whenever the Young Cock gave a little upward jerk to his head, theWhite Cock did the same. At first he was only trying to protecthimself and be ready for a blow if the Young Cock should begin tofight in earnest. Pretty soon he began to think that he would beat himif he could. He thought it might be a good time to teach himsomething. After that both fought as hard as they could, staring,ducking, bobbing, fluttering, pecking, and striking with their billsand the sharp spurs that grew on their legs. It ended by the WhiteCock staggering and running away from the blows, while the other stoodproudly where he was and crowed and crowed and crowed.
The Young Cock did not beat because he understood the movements to bemade any better than the other. He beat only because he was youngerand stronger. He did not look toward the Pullets, feeling quite surethat they were looking toward him and admiring him. He flew onto thetop rail of the pasture fence and crowed as loudly as he could."Cock-a-doodle-doo!" said he. "I have beaten him! I have beaten him!"
The Shanghai Cock looked at him with great displeasure. "Somethingwill happen to that young fellow some day," said he, "and after thathe will not crow so much."
The Pullets heard him say this and were scared. They did not wishanything dreadful to happen to him. One of them wanted to tell theYoung Cock what they had overheard, but the others would not let her.
It was not long after this, in fact it was before the Hens had comeout of the large open gate of their yard, that the Young Cock pickedup and ate a grain of corn which the Shanghai Cock had already bentover to eat. The older Cock did not like this, and he said so veryplainly. The Young Cock lowered his head and looked the Shanghai Cocksquarely in the eye. "If you don't like my way of eating," he said inhis rudest tone, "you can try to punish me."
"I will try it with pleasure," replied the Shanghai Cock, and theystared and ducked and hopped and fluttered and jumped and struck ateach other with feet and bill, until the Young Cock had really beatenthe Shanghai. It should have been the other way, yet it was not, forthe Shanghai was growing old and fat, and could not get around soquickly as the Young Cock.
Of course the Pullets were glad, but nobody else was. "There will beno getting along with him at all after this," the Hens said. "If hehad been well beaten for once, he might have learned manners." Theypaid no attention to the Cocks who were beaten, for that would not bethought polite among fowls. Instead, they walked about as usual,pretending that they had not noticed what was going on, and twistingtheir necks, lifting their feet, and dusting themselves in the mostmatter-of-fact way.
The Young Cock flew onto the fence again. "Cock-a-doodle-doo!" saidhe. "Cock-a-doodle-doo! I can beat them all! I can beat them all!" Hestrutted back and forth there for a time, and then flew to the top ofthe old carriage-house. Here he strutted and crowed and crowed andstrutted, while the fowls in the pasture below looked at him andwondered how he dared go so high.
Suddenly the Shanghai Cock, who had been quietly trying to arrange hisfeathers after the fight, saw a large, dark bird swooping down fromthe sky and gave a queer warning cry. "Er-ru-u-u-u-u!" he said. "Run!Run!"
> A LARGE DARK BIRD SWOOPING DOWN. _Page 142_]
The White Cock spoke at almost the same time. "Er-ru-u-u-u-u! Run!Run!"
Then all the Hens and Pullets put down their heads and ran as fast asthey could for the poultry-house, which was near. The Shanghai Cockand the White Cock waited to let them pass, and then followed in afterthem. It is a law among fowls that the Cocks must protect the Hensfrom all danger.
Because these two had to wait so long for the Hens and Pullets to getinside, they were still where they could see quite plainly when thebird, a large Eagle, swooped down to the roof of the carriage-houseand caught the Young Cock up in his talons. The Young Cock had notseen him coming until he was almost there. He had been too muchinterested in watching the fowls on the ground below. When he saw theEagle it was too late to get away.
As the Eagle flew upward once more, all the fowls ran out to watchhim. They could see the Young Cock struggling as the sharp talons ofthe Eagle held him tightly. "Poor fellow!" said the Pullets. The Cockswere wise enough to keep still. The Hens murmured something tothemselves which nobody else could understand. Only the Plymouth RockHen said very much about it, and that was because she had children tobring up. One of the Young Cock's tail-feathers floated down from thesky and fell into their yard. "Leave it right there," she said. "Leaveit there, and every time you look at it, I want you to remember thatthe Cock to whom it belonged might now be having a pleasant time onthis farm, if he had not been quarrelsome and bragged."
Tales of a Poultry Farm Page 12