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〃Now for the April chicks；〃 I say every evening。
〃Do you mean the broilers？〃 asks Phoebe。
〃I mean the big April chicks；〃 say I。
〃Yes； them are the broilers；〃 says she。
But is it not disagreeable enough to be a broiler when one's time comes；
without having the gridiron waved in one's face for weeks beforehand？
The April chicks are all lively and desirous of seeing the world as
thoroughly as possible before going to roost or broil。 As a general thing；
we find in the large house sixteen young fowls of the contemplative；
flavourless； resigned…to…the…inevitable variety； three more （the same three
every night） perch on the roof and are driven down； four （always the same
four） cling to the edge of the open door； waiting to fly off； but not in； when
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you attempt to close it； nine huddle together on a place in the grass about
forty feet distant； where a small coop formerly stood in the prehistoric
ages。 This small coop was one in which they lodged for a fortnight when
they were younger； and when those absolutely indelible impressions are
formed of which we read in educational maxims。 It was taken away long
since； but the nine loyal （or stupid） Casabiancas cling to the sacred spot
where its foundations rested； they accordingly have to be caught and
deposited bodily in the house； and this requires strategy； as they note our
approach from a considerable distance。
Finally all are housed but two； the little white cock and the black pullet；
who are still impish and of a wandering mind。 Though headed off in
every direction； they fly into the hedges and hide in the underbrush。 We
beat the hedge on the other side； but with no avail。 We dive into the
thicket of wild roses； sweetbrier； and thistles on our hands and knees；
coming out with tangled hair； scratched noses； and no hens。 Then； when
all has been done that human ingenuity can suggest； Phoebe goes to her
late supper and I do sentry…work。 I stroll to a safe distance； and； sitting
on one of the rat…proof boxes； watch the bushes with an eagle eye。 Five
minutes go by； ten； fifteen； and then out steps the white cock； stealthily
tiptoeing toward the home into which he refused to go at our instigation。
In a moment out creeps the obstinate little beast of a black pullet from the
opposite clump。 The wayward pair meet at their own door； which I have
left open a few inches。 When all is still I walk gently down the field； and；
warned by previous experiences； approach the house from behind。 I
draw the door to softly and quickly； but not so quickly that the evil…
minded and suspicious black pullet hasn't time to spring out； with a make…
believe squawk of frightthat induces three other blameless chickens to
fly down from their perches and set the whole flock in a flutter。 Then I
fall from grace and call her a Broiler； and when； after some minutes of hot
pursuit； I catch her by falling over her in the corner by the goose…pen； I
address her as a fat； juicy Broiler with parsley butter and a bit of bacon。
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CHAPTER V
July 10th。
At ten thirty or so in the morning the cackling begins。 I wonder
exactly what it means！ Have the forest…lovers who listen so respectfully
to； and interpret so exquisitely； the notes of birds have none of them
made psychological investigations of the hen cackle？ Can it be simple
elation？ One could believe that of the first few eggs； but a hen who has
laid two or three hundred can hardly feel the same exuberant pride and joy
daily。 Can it be the excitement incident to successful achievement？
Hardly； because the task is so extremely simple。 Eggs are more or less
alike； a little larger or smaller； a trifle whiter or browner； and almost sure
to be quite right as to details； that is； the big end never gets confused with
the little end； they are always ovoid and never spherical； and the yolk is
always inside of the white。 As for a soft…shelled egg； it is so rare an
occurrence that the fear of laying one could not set the whole race of hens
in a panic； so there really cannot be any intellectual or emotional agitation
in producing a thing that might be made by a machine。 Can it be simply
〃fussiness〃； since the people who have the least to do commonly make the
most flutter about doing it？
Perhaps it is merely conversation。 〃Cut…cut…cut…cut…cut…DAHcut！ 。 。 。
I have finished my strictly fresh egg； have you laid yours？ Make haste；
then； for the cock has found a gap in the wire…fence and wants us to
wander in the strawberry…bed。 。 。 。 Cut…cut…cut… cut…cut…DAHcut 。 。 。 Every
moment is precious； for the Goose Girl will find us； when she gathers the
strawberries for her luncheon 。 。 。 Cut…cut…cut…cut！ On the way out we
can find sweet places to steal nests 。 。 。 Cut…cut…cut！ 。 。 。 I am so glad I am
not sitting this heavenly morning； it IS a dull life。
A Lancashire poultry…man drifted into Barbury Green yesterday。 He
is an old acquaintance of Mr。 Heaven； and spent the night and part of the
next day at Thornycroft Farm。 He possessed a deal of fowl philosophy；
and tells many a good hen story； which； like fish stories； draw rather
largely on the credulity of the audience。 We were sitting in the rickyard
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talking comfortably about laying and cackling and kindred matters when
he took his pipe from his mouth and told us the following talenot a bad
one if you can translate the dialect：…
'Aw were once towd as； if yo' could only get th' hen's egg away afooar
she hed sin it； th' hen 'ud think it hed med a mistek an' sit deawn ageean
an' lay another。
'An' it seemed to me it were a varra sensible way o' lukkin' at it。 Sooa
aw set to wark to mek a nest as 'ud tek a rise eawt o' th' hens。 An' aw dud
it too。 Aw med a nest wi' a fause bottom； th' idea bein' as when a hen hed
laid； th' egg 'ud drop through into a box underneyth。
'Aw felt varra preawd o' that nest； too； aw con tell yo'； an' aw
remember aw felt quite excited when aw see an awd black Minorca； th'
best layer as aw hed； gooa an' settle hersel deawn i' th' nest an' get ready
for wark。 Th' hen seemed quite comfortable enough； aw were glad to see；
an' geet through th' operation beawt ony seemin' trouble。
〃Well； aw darsay yo' know heaw a hen carries on as soon as it's laid a
egg。 It starts 〃chuckin'〃 away like a showman's racket； an' after tekkin' a
good Ink at th' egg to see whether it's a big 'un or a little 'un； gooas eawt
an' tells all t'other hens abeawt it。
〃Neaw； this black Minorca； as aw sed； were a owdish bird； an' maybe
knew mooar than aw thowt。 Happen it hed laid on a nest wi' a fause
bottom afooar； an' were up to th' trick； but whether or not； aw never see a
hen luk mooar disgusted i' mi life when it lukked i' th' nest an' see as it hed
hed all that trouble fer nowt。
〃It woked reawnd th' nest as if it couldn't believe its own eyes。
〃But it dudn't do as aw expected。 Aw expected as it 'ud sit deawn
ageean an' lay another。
〃But it just gi'e one wonderin' sooart o' chuck； an then； after a long
stare reawnd th' hen…coyt； it woked eawt； as mad a hen as aw've ever sin。
Aw fun' eawt after； what th' long stare meant。 It were tekkin' farewell！
For if yo'll believe me that hen never laid another egg i' ony o' my nests。
〃Varra like it laid away in a spot wheear it could hev summat to luk at
when it hed done wark for th' day。
〃Sooa aw lost mi best layer through mi actin'； an' aw've never invented
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