Tales of a Poultry Farm Part 7

One day the outer gate of the empty yard next to theirs was left open and some fine corn strewn inside, just as the Gobbler came along. He strutted in to eat the corn, thinking a little of it would taste good before he started for the meadow.

He stood with his back to the gate while eating, and quite often he stopped between mouthfuls to tell the Hen Turkeys how fine it was outside. Soon he noticed the Man opening the gate of their yard and letting the oldest flock pa.s.s through with their mother. He took one hurried last mouthful and turned to leave. The gate of his yard was shut, and he was too fat and old to fly over the fence.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE HAPPY TURKEY MOTHER PAUSED ON HER WAY. _Page 113_]

The happy Turkey mother paused on her way to the meadows with her flock. She was a very patient creature, and would never have dared say anything of the sort to the Gobbler when he was free, but now she decided to say what she wished for once. "Thank you very much for telling us about the fine food outside," said she. "We shall soon be enjoying it. We shall first try the lower meadow and then the upper one. After that we shall hunt for those delicious Bugs which you say may be found by the roadside. Probably we shall find plenty of dandelion, cress, and mustard leaves, with a few Ants or nettles to give flavor. It is really very fine outside."

THREE CHICKENS RUN AWAY

One would think that with such a good mother as the Barred Plymouth Rock Hen, Chickens should have been contented to mind her and follow wherever she went, and usually hers did. One day, however, two of the brothers coaxed their good little sister to go with them to visit the Chickens at the farm across the road. The brothers had teased and teased their mother to let them go there, but she had always refused.

"Why?" they said.

"Because," answered the Barred Plymouth Rock Hen, "you have enough room and enough playmates right here at home, and I know that you are safe and well here. I do not know what might happen to you there."

"Oh, _why_ can't we go?" teased the brothers, who had just been given an answer to that same question, and were very rude to keep on asking it.

Of course the Barred Plymouth Rock Hen had had too much experience with Chickens to reply again to a question which should not have been asked the second time, and might better not have been asked the first.

So she just turned her back and walked off, clucking to her brood as she went. The brothers who had been teasing did not like that at all, and they put their naughty little heads together and decided to run away.

"Let's get Little Sister to go along," said Older Brother.

"Why?" asked Younger Brother. "She can't run as fast as we can, and she's so good that it wouldn't be much fun anyway. We wouldn't get across the road before she'd want to come back and be afraid our mother would worry about us."

"That is just why I want her to go along," said Older Brother. "We'll get her to go, and then our mother will think that we are not any worse than she is, and perhaps she won't peck us so hard when we get back."

"All right," said Younger Brother, fluttering his wings with impatience. "Let's get her right now. I know our mother won't scold her."

You see both of the brothers forgot that the reason why their mother had never scolded Little Sister was that Little Sister had never done anything wrong. She was really the best Chicken in the brood, and she had such a sweet way of running to the Barred Plymouth Rock Hen during the day and cuddling close to her for a short rest, that it was not strange her mother was especially fond of her.

Now the two naughty brothers found Little Sister and began talking to her. "Ever been across the road?" asked Older Brother, carelessly, as he snapped off a blade of gra.s.s.

"No," said Little Sister. "Mother never goes."

"There are some very jolly Chickens on that farm," remarked Younger Brother. "One of them asked us to come over a little while ago."

"Wouldn't it be fun!" exclaimed Little Sister. "Let's ask Mother if we can't all go."

"Aw, they won't want the whole brood at once," said Older Brother.

"Besides, our mother is way over in the edge of the pasture now, and there isn't any use in bothering her. I tell you what let's do. Let's just go down to our side of the road and see if those other Chickens are there now. Then we can ask them if they don't want us to come over some other day."

You see the brothers knew that it would never do to ask their sister to run away with them at first, for she would have said "No," and run off to tell the Barred Plymouth Rock Hen, and that would have spoiled all their naughty fun.

The three little White Plymouth Rocks put down their heads and scurried along as fast as they could toward the road. Older Brother planned it so that the fence should hide them from their mother as they ran, but he said nothing of this to Little Sister, for she was not used to being naughty, and he knew that he would have to go about it very carefully to get her to run away. When they reached the road they saw the Chickens on the other side, but they were well within their own farm-yard.

"Oh, isn't that too bad!" exclaimed Little Sister. "Now you can't ask them what you wanted to."

"We might run over and speak to them about it now," said Younger Brother. "Mother won't care. After we have come so far to see them, it seems too bad to miss our chance. Come on and we can be across before that team gets here." Both the brothers put down their heads and ran as fast as they could, and Little Sister followed after them. When they were on the other side she began to cry and wanted to go back.

"I n-n-never did such a thing in all my l-l-life," she sobbed, "and I know our mother won't like it. Let's go right back."

"Oh, don't act like a Gosling," said Older Brother. "You're over here now and you might as well have a good time. What if our mother does scold when we get back? She never wants us to have a bit of fun, and we're just as safe here as we were at home."

Little Sister did not feel at all happy, still, you know how hard it is to stop being naughty when you have once begun, and she found it hard. She would gladly have returned at once if her brothers had been willing to go with her, but when she found that they were going to stay, she stayed with them. The Chickens whom they were visiting were very jolly and full of fun, although they were of common families and had not been carefully brought up. They did many things which the little White Plymouth Rocks had never been allowed to do, and in a short time the visitors were doing just the same as they.

These Chickens even made fun of each other when they had accidents, and Little Sister heard them laughing at three or four who were acting as though they were sick and opening their bills very wide. "What is the matter with those Chickens?" she asked.

"Oh, they have the gapes," answered one of the Chickens who lived there, and then he began speaking of something else.

It is very sad to have to tell such a thing, but the truth is that the three White Plymouth Rock Chickens did not return to their home until nearly roosting-time. Even Little Sister pecked and squabbled and acted like the rest. They walked up the tongue of a hay wagon that stood in the yard, and scrambled and fluttered until they were on the edge of the rack. "Dare you to fly down into the old hen-yard," said one of the Chickens who lived on the place. "We used to live in there until a few days ago, and then the Farmer turned us out and shut the gate after us."

"Why did he do that?" asked Older Brother.

"I don't know," was the answer. "n.o.body knows why Farmers do things. I think he did it just to be mean. There were fine Angleworms in there, and now we can't get one of them. Dare you to fly down there! You can get out somehow."

Older Brother was not brave enough to refuse, so over he flew, and Younger Brother came after him. The other Chickens fluttered along with them and Younger Brother gave Little Sister a shove that sent her over the fence when he went. They found a great many Angleworms there, and ate and ate and ate, and tried to get the largest ones away from each other; but after a while the Farmer's Wife saw them and came running to shoo them out with her ap.r.o.n. Little Sister was really glad when this happened, for she had found no place where she could crawl through the fence. She would have told her brothers about it if she had not feared that they would laugh at her and call her a coward. She did not know that each of them was thinking the same thing and dared not speak of it for the same reason. Of course the Chickens who lived on that farm all the time did not care so much. Naughty Chickens, like the three little run-aways, are almost sure to think about their mothers when the sun begins to set and the shadows on the gra.s.s grow long. Then they begin to think about home, too, and wish that they did not have to be ashamed of themselves.

When these brothers and their sister got out of the hen-yard, they started straight for home. At first they ran, and quite fast too, but as they got nearer they began to go more slowly, and once in a while one of them would stop to peck at something or other. You see they were thinking of what the Barred Plymouth Rock Hen would be likely to say to them. They thought that they would find her in the old coop where they had lived when first hatched. They ran the fields now, yet always went back there to spend the nights.

They were trying so hard to find excuses for themselves that they did not notice the Barred Plymouth Rock Hen behind the stone-pile in the lane. She had got the rest of her brood settled in the coop for the night and then started out in search of the wanderers. As soon as they pa.s.sed the stone-pile, she ducked her head and ran after them as fast as she could, dragging the tips of her wings on the ground and pecking at them hard and fast. You should have seen them run. They fluttered their wings wildly and never thought of making excuses. The one thing they remembered was that if they only reached the coop they could crawl in under their good brothers and sisters and be safe from their mother's bill.

Little Sister got punished as well as her brothers, and that was perfectly right. For she need not have gone with them, even if they did ask her. It may be that her mother did not peck her quite so hard as she did the others, but it was hard enough to make her glad to reach the coop at last. The good Chickens were almost asleep when these three dived in under them, and it took some time for them all to get settled again. The Barred Plymouth Rock Hen sat down beside the pile of her children and looked very hot and severe, yet she did not scold them then.

The rest of the brood were sound asleep when Little Sister slipped out from under them to cuddle close to her mother. She could not sleep until she had confessed it all, and that shows that she was a good Chicken at heart. When she told about their getting into the closed hen-yard, and how they had been driven out of it, the Barred Plymouth Rock Hen looked very much startled. "Did any of your playmates over there go around with their mouths open?" said she.

"Oh yes," replied Little Sister. "A good many of them did, and the rest of us laughed at them." Then she drooped her head because she felt ashamed of having been so rude.

"I am afraid the punishment I gave you will be only a small part of it," said the Barred Plymouth Rock Hen; "but now you must go to sleep, and we will not talk any more of your naughtiness. You did quite right to tell me all about it."

THE THREE RUNAWAYS BECOME ILL

n.o.body can tell just how long it was after the Chickens ran away, but it was certainly some little time, when Older Brother began to have trouble about breathing. "There seems to be something stuck in my throat," said he to his mother. "I can't breathe without opening my mouth a good deal."

"There is something stuck in my throat too," said Younger Brother.

"And in mine," added Little Sister.

The Barred Plymouth Rock Hen looked very sad. "It is just as I expected," said she.

At that moment another brother ran up. "What's the matter with these Chickens?" he asked his mother. "They've been running around all morning with their mouths open, and it makes them look too silly for anything. I don't want to play with them if they can't keep their bills shut. I wish you'd tell them to stop."