V The Birds of the Poultry Yard
We have had a long talk about the four-legged home-folks, those animals, big and little, that aid man in hunting, amuse him as house pets, carry him on his journeys, pull his carts and wagons, supply him with milk, butter and cheese, and yield him food for the table, wool for clothing, skins for leather, and other things for other uses.
This is a long list of the good that man gets from the animals he tames and feeds. But it is not the whole. There is another class of animals, two-legged ones this time, with claws instead of hoofs, horny beaks instead of mouths, feathers instead of hair, and wings in place of fore-legs. These are the birds of the poultry yard and the lawn, some of them kept for their eggs, some for their flesh, some for the splendor of their plumage; some of them very useful, others very beautiful.
I am sure that you will enjoy a talk about these winged and feathered creatures. They belong more closely to the home-life of all people than some of our four-legged friends and helpers, as they are kept close to the house and fed by its people, not left to feed themselves in the fields. Best known and most useful among these is the hen or chicken, our clucking friend of the poultry-yard, who fills our pantries with eggs and is served on our tables as one of the best liked foods.
The Hen and Its Brood
The city, we know, is a hotbed of noises, sounds of all sorts troubling our ears by day and night. We try at times to get rid of them, but find that not easy to do. The best thing for us is to get used to them and learn to sleep in spite of them. We need to become like Jock the miller, who got so used to the roar and clang of his mill that he could not sleep when it was still.
Some city people find it so hard to get used to the noises of the night that they go to the country for a quiet sleep. Do they find it? They may in still winter nights, but in the summer season the country has noises of its own. As soon as night falls a host of wood insects begin their endless drone. Then there is the locust and the katydid, with their shrill calls, and perhaps the whip-poor-will, with its mournful cry.
Falling to sleep at last, after these sounds have lost their force, no sooner are the first faint rays of light sent from the east, at three or four o’clock in the morning, than a new sound invades the ear and wakens the sleeper with a sudden start.
This is the early waking cock, with his loud “cock-a-doodle-doo.” Standing on his own fortress he sounds his shrill alarm. A dozen more, near and far, from all points of the compass, take up the tune. The air is soon full of this strident cock-crow, the signal of the coming of the sun, until all hope of sleep is at an end, and the pilgrim wishes himself well back in his city bed. He finds the country not such a sweet sleep-producer as he hoped.
In old times people held the cock to be a sacred animal, the herald of the dawn, the symbol of light and the sun. In later times it was held to be the wide-awake sentry of the coming day. There are places where its image is mounted on church steeples on guard over the winds. Everywhere it is the emblem of vigilance, and this is what the city sleeper in country beds finds it.
With its stately attitude, its erect head crowned with feathers like an Indian chief, its showy spread of tail, and its air of pride and dignity, our cock strides about as the lord of the farm-yard and peals out his loud “cock-a-doodle-doo” like a challenge to battle. And he is usually quite ready for battle if any rival cock takes up his challenge.
While the cock thus blows his trumpet blast, the hen finds other work to do. Her business is to lay eggs, hatch out her brood of funny little chicks, lead them about the poultry yard in search of worms and other food, and gather them fussily under her wings when a hawk is seen in the sky or any danger appears.
Mrs. Hen does not have the ear-splitting voice of Mr. Cock, but she has a language of her own. There are only a few words in it but each of them has a meaning. There is the proud cackle with which she tells the world that she has laid an egg, the lively chuckle with which she brings her brood to a feast of worms, and the quick cry of danger which sets them running to the fortress of her wings. Her brood know what all these chickenwords mean, and it is for their ears they are spoken.
The hen is not as handsome a bird as some other inmates of the poultry yard, but if we look over all our stock of these birds we will find some very good-looking ones, these for their showy colors, those for their fine shape.
Among those that are kept more for ornament than use are the great Cochin China fowls, stately birds, giants of their kind, of lordly bearing and fine coloring. They do not lay many eggs and those they do lay are small. Also they are not very good to eat. But they win respect through their size and beauty and thus are kept by many as birds of show.
Another family of giant fowls are the Brahmas. They are smaller than the Cochin Chinas, but are as handsome, and along with this they lay many and large eggs and their flesh is very good. So these are kept not only as birds of show but birds of use.
When we come down to hens of smaller size we find a number of breeds, not less than forty in all, dwelling in various parts of the world and many of than good in various ways. Like nearly all our home animals, America is not the native place of the hen. Neither is Europe, for it came from Asia, that great continent in which so many animals were first born. But the hen tribe has spread all over the earth, the chicken is a household treasure almost from the north pole to the south, and we can hardly find a country home in any land without its crowing cock and its clucking hen.
While not native to America, it makes itself very much at home there and the United States has some excellent breeds of its own, of which we may be proud. These are the Plymouth Rocks and the Wyandottes, which have been called the national fowls of America and which can hold their own with the best breeds of Europe. While we have brought a number of fine breeds from foreign lands, we have sent these two abroad, and they have won high praise both for beauty and usefulness.
The Wyandottes are of various colors, the white being best liked; others are of silver, golden, speckled, black, and partridge-color. They are splendid egg layers, filling the yearly basket with from a hundred and fifty to two hundred eggs.
The Plymouth Rock may be speckled, light yellow, or white, and it bears a strong resemblance to the Wyandotte, except that the latter has a double comb on its head while the former has a single one.
As the cow is kept for its meat and its milk, and the sheep for its meat and its wool, so is the hen kept for two purposes, its flesh and its eggs. Some kinds are bred for the table and they are of great value in our food-supply. Everybody likes a dish of chicken meat, which is fine in flavor, easy of digestion, and very good for the weak or sick.
Other kinds are kept for egg-laying and the egg-harvest of the world is vast in size. It is the nature of the hen to lay eggs enough for a brood of chicks, sit on them to keep them warm, and take care of the brood when it appears until the chicks are old enough to scratch for their own living.
But these duties take up much time in which no eggs are laid, and the farmers who deal in eggs try to prevent the hens from nest-making and egg-hatching. In this way many hens have been forced to forget what they were made for and have gone out of the hatching business. These give all their spare time to egg-laying. Some of them lay more than two hundred eggs a year. Breeds of this kind are found mostly in the countries along the Mediterranean.
The number of chickens kept and of eggs laid in the world is far out of sight. In the United States alone in 1900 there were nearly 250,000,000 chickens, and nearly 1,300,000,000 dozen of eggs were laid. This made three chickens for each man, woman and child in the country and seventeen dozen of eggs for each. Since then the number has grown much larger and the annual egg crop of the world, if it could be heaped up together, would make a pyramid far larger than the largest in Egypt.
The Game Cock and Its Battles
I do not want to say much about cock-fighting, for it is a cruel sport and leads to the vice of gambling, through which many lose large sums of money. But the fighting of game-cocks has a history of its own, and cannot be quite passed over in our story of the hen and its brood.
The males of all the higher animals are fond of fighting. It is one of their duties to act as guardians of the family against danger from outside, while the females look after home affairs. This fighting temper is very common among animals and men have often made use of it in getting up battles between animals. We find it in the chicken family, and cock-fighting has long been enjoyed by sport-loving people.
While all cocks are ready to fight at times, and the winning cock struts about the poultry yard like a conqueror, there are special breeds known as Game-cocks which are always ready for a battle and will fight till victory or death ends the fray. Game-cocks are classed among the ornamental poultry, for they are of little use as food and their hens lay few eggs. Yet they are highly thought of in some countries, a good fighter is treated as a member of the family, and one that has won several victories is worth much money to his owner.
There are two kinds of fighting cocks, large ones and small ones. Some of the little kind are not larger than pigeons. They are usually known as Bantams, from the town of Bantam, in Java, though it is more likely they came from Japan. These little birds, many of them of only a pound in weight, are heroes of the poultry yard, for a fighting bantam is more than a match for a common cock five times its size. The bantam has been spoken of as “a fine example of a great soul in a little body.”
The large game-cocks of Europe come chiefly from France and Belgium, but good ones may be found in other countries. In fighting, the chief weapon is the sharp spur on the back of the leg, which they use as a sort of dagger. It is common to fasten steel spurs, and sometimes even silver ones, on the leg, and the first blow from one of these may bring death to an opponent.
Cock-fighting is a very old form of amusement. It was common among the Greeks and Romans, and was kept up in England for six centuries. It was even an annual sport at public schools. Laws have been passed against it at various times, the last in 1849, but it is still practiced now and then out of sight of the law officers. The same may be said of the United States. In these times this sport is most common in India, the Malay Islands, and the Spanish countries of America, where the people are very fond of it.
The training of cocks to fight and getting the bird ready for the cock-pit is an art in itself. It needs skill to fasten on the spurs. Two years old is the best fighting age. When a match is made it is settled how many birds there shall be on each side and they are carefully weighed, those within an ounce of each other being matched. These are said to “fall in.” Those that do not fall in are set to fight what are called “byes.” In a Welsh main the cocks fight until only one is left alive. They are like the famous “Kilkenny cats.”
If we should seek a country where cock-fighting may take place under the laws, the nearest to us is in the isle of Cuba. In the cities of that island the cock-pit is as popular as the circus is with us. It is a circular space, with seats around filled with lookers-on and bettors, for much money is lost and won in one of these fights. The birds are of a native breed, and are said to be very brave and bold.
In a country under our own rule, the Philippine Islands, cock-fighting is one of the best liked forms of sport. To take this from the Filipino would be worse than robbing him of his freedom. Sundays and feast-days are the times for cock-fighting, and on these dates the cock-pit is sure to be crowded. When a feast-day arrives, after the siesta, which comes in the hot hours of the afternoon, crowds of natives may be seen going to the large bamboo building where the fight is to take place, many of them with fighting cocks under their arms. A sharp steel spur, two inches or more in length, is tied to the left leg of each, as an aid to the spurs given the cock by nature.
These cocks are the great treasures of the natives. The bird is often more to its owner than his children. He fondly caresses it, and it eats, crows, and sleeps in his arms. But it is apt to become a nuisance to the traveller, for he often has to spend the night in the same room with the family cock, and as it begins to crow about three o’clock in the morning all sleep after that hour is at an end.
Inside the pit two cocks at a time are matched, and when the hour for the fight is reached dollars begin to rain into the ring, each bettor laying a stake on his favorite and throwing his money into the ring. Then come the words usada (“matched,”) and largo (“let go”), and in an instant the two birds are in and at each other, fighting as fiercely as two bull-pups. The battle is usually short, a well-directed blow from the steel spur stretching one of them dead on the ground.
The name of the winner is now called out and those who have won bets hurry down into the ring and pick up their own stakes as well as the sums they have won. This seems a queer method, but the bettors act honestly. It is safest to do so, for to take more than their due would likely lead to a knife thrust from these hot-tempered people. Under the Spanish law fifty dollars was the limit of a bet; but little heed was paid to this and larger bets were often made.
The Web-Footed Duck and Goose
While the hen is not fond of water, the duck and goose could not well live without it. They are born for swimming, with webs between their toes that serve as oars. On the land they walk with an ugly waddling gait, but in the water they are very graceful, and a flock of swimming ducks or geese is a pretty sight.
In raising ducks the nature of the bird needs to be kept in mind. Water is its native element and it will not do well on the land. It cannot be kept in a coop or an inclosed place like fowls, but give it an open field, with a running stream, and it will ask nothing more. You will hardly need to feed it, for it knows well how to feed itself.
The duck is not a lazy bird. It will eat almost anything, and is always waddling about picking up snails, grubs, and insects, or sailing on the water and thrusting its beak into the soft mud for worms.
If the duck farm is large enough and has a pond or stream, the keeping of ducks is very easy. They are nearly free from disease and need little looking after. Some kinds of ducks are very handsome, their colors being bright and varied. The male of the common duck (known as a drake) has a splendid plumage in its wild state. The head and upper neck are of deep emerald green. Lower down is a collar of white, and the lower neck is of dark chestnut. The wings are of a beautiful deep blue.
The tame bird is not nearly so beautiful. It uses its legs instead of its wings to get about, so that it almost forgets how to fly. This easy life and plenty of food helps it to grow and fatten, a fact that makes it better suited to man’s use. It has long forgotten how to build a nest and almost how to sit on its eggs, so that in some places the hen is used to hatch out the young ducks. To see a hen going about with a flock of young ducklings looks odd to us, and when the little waddlers jump into the water and swim away the hen mother seems sadly scared. She fears that all her pretty ducklings will be drowned.
When the baby duck gets out of the egg and is ready to begin life it is shut up for a few days and fed on soft food, such as ground wheat and barley mixed with hard-boiled egg. After this it is let out into the field and set free to search for the animal food it needs. In Belgium, where many ducklings are raised, it is comical to see the breeder hopping about the field on big wooden shoes, kicking up the earth as he goes so as to force out the worms for the little strangers to feed on. It does not take them long to learn how to find food for themselves.
Of the different kinds of ducks we may name the Rouen of France as a fine and beautiful bird and a good layer. In England the Aylesbury is the best, as it grows fast, is very hardy and lays many eggs. The Pekin duck is much like it and is highly thought of in this country, where large numbers of white Pekins are raised for market. The duck of India is new to us but has won its way among duck raisers. It is the best of its kind as an egg layer, its harvest being over one hundred and fifty eggs a year. Its flesh is very delicate so that it is much liked for the table.
While the duck is not so widely kept as the hen, there are places where it is raised in large numbers. In the United States there are duck farms in which as many as twenty thousand birds a year are grown. There are no farms like this in Europe, though in some countries ducks are raised in great multitudes. These are not allowed to grow old, being sent to market when eight to twelve months of age. They pay better when sold at this age, for after that new feathers begin to grow and buyers do not want them.
If we turn now to the Goose, we find it a swimmer like the duck, but larger in size and with a much longer neck. It belongs to the duck family, but does not eat animal food like the duck. It gets a good living off of grass and this makes it cheap and easy to raise. In Russia, where geese are kept in large numbers, the goose girl leads her flock every morning to the fields, lets them feed during the day, and brings them home at night to the village. The goslings are given some ground grain for a few weeks, and then are left to feed themselves.
The goose, like the duck, has largely gone out of the business of egg hatching, turkeys or large fowls being used to sit on the eggs. They are neither good hatchers nor good layers, the best breeds rarely giving more than thirty eggs a year. But they are hardy and healthy and do not die off like young chickens. They can bear cold easily, and though a shelter is made for them in winter, they always sleep in the open air in the summer.
The goose is a strong bird and can strike a hard blow with its wing. In trying to catch them the keeper must be careful, for they are able to break his arm with a blow and have done so more than once. But they are good watchers for the farm. They wake very easily, and if a stranger comes upon the farm in the night they make noise enough to arouse the whole household.
This habit has given the goose a place in history. The Romans of old kept a number of geese in the temple of Juno on the hill where stood the Capitol. The goose was sacred to that goddess and it was the custom to keep a flock in her temples. One night a party of Gauls, who had laid siege to the city of Rome, found a narrow path up the steep hill and were almost at the top when the sacred geese heard them and made so loud a cackling that the garrison woke up and rushed out. Here the Gauls who had reached the top were flung down the steep hill, stones were thrown down on those that followed, and the Capitol was saved.
One of the best known breeds of geese is that of the Giant goose of Toulouse, usually about sixteen pounds but sometimes twenty-four pounds in weight. The Embden goose is still larger. The Giant goose of Italy is the only good layer, and yields about sixty eggs a year. In Germany and some other countries geese are driven for days along the roads, in flocks of several hundred. They are not easily tired and are good travellers, so that this is the cheapest way to get them to market.
As for the uses to which the goose is put, these are simply for food and for their feathers and quills, which are plucked several times a year. The fine, soft feathers are of much value for pillows and beds, and before the steel pen was invented goose quills were used all over Europe and America to make into pens.
In England the goose is often roasted for the Christmas dinner, as the turkey is with us, and the gizzards, heads and legs are sold in sets, under the name of “giblets,” to be used for pies. Goose liver has long been a dainty dish. It is made in Strasburg to grow very large by keeping the geese in a room at high temperature. In this state it is sold as a great delicacy under the French name of pâté de foie gras (“pasty of fat liver”).
The Turkey and the Guinea Fowl
So far we have had to do with birds and beasts of foreign birth. As men from abroad have peopled our cities, so animals from abroad have peopled our fields, and we have not as yet met with one true American in the list.
It is lucky that I have a native American to offer you, and one that is in some ways the finest of all our birds of the farm. This is the Turkey, the largest of them all and the choicest when roasted and served upon the table. We may well ask, what would a Christmas dinner be like without this noble bird to fill the place of honor?
There are wild turkeys still in our woods, though the bullets of the hunter have left few of those once found there. These wild birds have certain odd habits well worth speaking of. Thus the male birds keep away from the females during a great part of the year, going about in flocks of from ten to a hundred, and feeding on grain, seeds, fruits, insects, tadpoles, lizards and such small game. The females go about singly or in flocks with their young. They take care to keep away from the old males, which have a bad habit of killing and eating the young.
Turkeys roost in trees but make their nests on the ground, laying from ten to twenty eggs before setting. These are much larger than the egg of the hen. The wild turkeys have small wings and are poor flyers, so that when they try to cross a river a mile wide many give out and fall into the water. But they usually manage to swim ashore.
There are two species of wild turkey in America, one native to the United States and Mexico and one found in Central America. The latter is somewhat smaller than our home bird but is finer in color, its feathers being of a beautiful metallic-green or bronze color, with hues of black, gold and sky color. The male turkey has a habit much like that of the peacock. He spreads his large tail upward like a fan, while his wings are made to trail on the ground. In this way he struts round and round with great dignity, giving vent at times to a loud “gobble, gobble,” an odd sound of his own.
The tame animal has the same habits, gobbling and strutting in the same way. Cared for and fed for the market, it grows to be a large and fat bird, with plenty of rich, juicy meat upon its bones. It is its size and the sweetness and delicacy of its flesh which make it a feast-day favorite.
The turkey is fond of roaming about and does not like to be confined to the poultry yard. On a large farm, where there is plenty of room to wander, the bird will do well and find most of its own food. But the young birds are delicate and hard to raise and it takes great care to bring them alive through babyhood. The hot sun hurts them and so do rain-storms and it is bad for them to get wet by running through long grass. If they are carefully attended to for their first few weeks of life and fed on food fitted to their young tastes they can be trusted afterwards to take good care of themselves.
While this bird has long been one of the prized tenants of our home poultry yards, the same is the case in Europe. There is a Mexican variety, with a whitish tail, which was taken to Europe by the early Spaniards and has spread widely in that continent, where it is raised with great care.
There are few large farms in America and Europe on which these birds are not kept—not in large numbers like the hen, for they do not take kindly to home life and need much room to wander, but enough for the demand. They are first-class hatchers, and will sit on from twenty to twenty-four eggs. They also take very good care of their flocks and guard them from harm.
The turkey, as we all know, is a large bird. It may be had of many sizes for the Christmas table, from ten or twelve pounds up to twenty-five or thirty. While much attention is paid to it in this country, it perhaps gets still more in Europe. In our cities it is a sad case when a family cannot have a roast turkey for its Christmas dinner, and in England it is taking the place of the roast goose, once the favorite. But the goose still holds a pleasant corner in the British mind. Any of you who have read Dickens’s story of Tiny Tim and Bob Cratchit’s Christmas dinner will be sure of this.
It is a queer fact that, while the turkey is the only American bird on our farms, it is at the same time the only one that has been given an old world name. It was early named after the Turks, under a wrong impression as to its origin, and the name has clung to it. It is quite as strange that the same must be said of the natives of America, who were given the name of Indians from the idea of Columbus that it was the land of India he had found. This name has also clung.
France is a country well suited to the raising of turkeys, and for hundreds of years the turkey has been a favorite bird in that land. Splendid birds are grown there, chief among them being the Solonge turkey. This is a bird of a brilliant black color, though now and then it is of white or steel-blue. They grow to be very large, one having been sent to the poultry shows of 1902 of the great weight of forty-five pounds.
This was sent to Spain to be seen and was visited in Madrid by the king and queen. On its return it took cold and when it got well of this it was killed by a fellow who did not believe in fat turkeys. The turkey was revenged, for the murderer spent five months in prison for his crime.
In some of the villages of France a woman is paid at the public cost as a care-keeper of the turkeys. Every morning she gathers her flock in the village and leads them to the open fields like the goose girl of Russia. When she comes home at night with her flock she does not need to pick out those of the different owners. Every bird knows its home and goes there, never making a mistake.
That is all we need now say about the turkey. The rest may be left unsaid till the Christmas dinner, when the noble bird lies brown and steaming on his back in the great platter. Then the carver stands over him knife in hand and we hear from him the customary question, “Which will you have, white meat or dark?” To most of us it does not matter which so that we get a bounteous share.
The Guinea-fowl, of which we shall speak in passing, must be dealt with briefly, for it is not largely kept in our home poultry yards, though much attention is paid to it in some parts of the world. It is one of the few gifts which Africa has made to our home-life family.
This bird belongs in the pheasant tribe and is found in Guinea and South Africa. It also occurs in the north and was much liked by the ancient Romans. But it is better fitted to warm than to cold climates, and as the young are apt to die of infant troubles it is not kept in large numbers in our poultry yards. Yet the bird and its eggs bring good prices in the market.
The climate of Jamaica is just right for the Guinea-fowl and in that island it has made itself at home, taking to the woods and to a wild life. There it has become fond of feeding on the growing crops and is hunted and shot like a game bird.
The special fact about this bird rests in its color, it being prettily speckled with round white spots on a dark gray color of plumage. There are several species, the best known being the common guinea, which is often called “come-back” from its call. In its wild state it gathers in large flocks and is very shy and hard to get near, while it keeps up most of the time a harsh cry which Latham compares to a door turning on rusty hinges or a wheel on an ungreased axle. In the farm-yard it perches at night in high places and if disturbed rouses up the whole neighborhood by its ceaseless cry.
The eggs of the Guinea-fowl are smaller than those of the hen and rounder in shape. They are of a reddish-white color, and are delicious eating. Many are laid and the female has the habit of hiding her nest until the young are hatched out. The flesh tastes like that of the pheasant, but is rather dry. It was served up at the Roman feasts, and is much liked now by many persons.
It may be further said about this bird that it is at times a nuisance in the poultry yard, for the male guinea has the tendency to attack the other poultry and act the tyrant over them. Another habit is to scrape in the ground like a hen. It also loves to roll in the dust and thus free itself from insects.
The Swan, an Image of Grace
Next on our list of home birds is the Swan, one of the most beautiful and graceful of the whole bird race. When afloat, like a winged boat, on the still surface of lake or pond, with its snow-white body and wings and its long, curving neck, it is a thing of beauty which we are all glad to see and enjoy.
The swan may still be found wild, but it has long been tamed and kept as an ornament of lakes and rivers and the broad ponds of country homes. Here it may be seen gliding softly along, with its white wings partly lifted, as if to catch the wind, and its neck gracefully bending as it moves.
In ancient times the swan was called the Bird of Apollo or of Orpheus, and was held to have splendid musical powers, singing most sweetly when it was dying. But this is a fancy of the poets, for the voice of the tame swan has no music in it, being only a sort of hiss, like that of the goose. There is a variety of the bird called the Trumpet Swan, but it is so noisy that few care to keep it. Also in Australia there is a bird called the Singing Swan, with a voice that might be spoken of as a kind of song. Some of these have been brought to Europe, but the common swan has no sort of song, living or dying.
There is an American species of the swan, which in winter may be seen flying in flocks as far south as Texas, but this has not been tamed. There is also a black swan found in Australia, and now to be seen in a tame state. It is deep black in color, except the main feathers of the wings, which are white. It is not nearly so pretty as the white swan, but when black and white are kept in the same pond the contrast is very fine.
The black-necked swan of South America is thought by many to be the most handsome of them all. Its bright white body and black neck make a pleasing contrast. When tamed this bird keeps to its own part of the pond, as if too proud to mix with common folks, and will fight them off if they come too near.
In fact, the swan is always ready to fight if it is meddled with. Quiet and docile with its friends, it does not like strangers and will make furious attacks on its enemies. When the mother bird is going about with her flock it is best to keep out of her way, for she is jealous of her brood, and if the male bird is near he will not bear meddling with his family party. He will attack men and dogs alike if they come too close and drives away the other birds of the pond. His weapons are his strong wings, with which he can deal powerful blows.
Under the law of England the swan is a bird royal. All swans found on sea or river in a partly wild state are claimed as birds of the crown. These royal birds are marked in a special way and whoever steals one of the king’s marked birds may be punished as a thief. The same is the case with tame swans and with swan’s eggs. He who steals or destroys the latter is liable to a fine of five shillings for each egg.
The mother swan lays from six to twelve eggs, on which she broods for thirty-six days, while the father bird keeps at hand with a sharp lookout for meddlers. They make their own nests and take care of themselves, though a little island is often built up in the middle of the pond with a straw-lined shelter in which the nest may be made. After they are hatched, the little swans take boldly to the water and swim about in search of food. They are gray when born and do not gain their dazzling white color until they are two years old.
Swans live chiefly on plant food, but they are also fond of fish spawn and will destroy this in great quantities, thus helping to keep down the crop of fish. In the tame state they are fed by throwing food upon the water, though they may be taught to come ashore and seek their food in a fixed place.
In Belgium there is a flock which has been taught to come to the casino of the military officers for its meals. The casino stands close to the canal and steps go down to the water. Every afternoon at feeding time the swans may be seen coming up the steps from the canal and crossing the street to the kitchen of the casino, where they make a signal by knocking on the floor with their beaks. The cooks then throw them food. After this is eaten they make their way, at the command of the head-cook, in a straight line back to the canal, heedless of men, dogs, or wagons which may be in their way.
In former times swans were used for food, and it was common at every great feast in England to serve up roast swan, there being special rules how it was to be cooked and the proper gravy made. Swan’s quills were also used for pens. In our days it is seldom eaten and quill pens rarely used, and the only value to be had from the swan comes from its downy feathers and its large and beautiful wings, which often bring good prices.
The Proud and Gaudy Peacock
Among all the birds of the poultry yard first in display stands the peacock, one of the most splendid in show of all birds. This fine fellow, with his glowing colors and royal tail, has some claim to be proud of his looks. Any of you who have seen him will agree with me in this. For those who have not seen him I must try and tell what he is like.
Rising from the head of the peacock is a crest of feathers of the most brilliant green and gold, while all its plumage is richly colored. But its finest feature is its splendid train, a great circle of feathers which rise above the tail and which it can lift into a glowing circle of wonderful beauty.
Of these feathers the middle ones are sometimes more than four feet long. They grow shorter on each side till they form a complete fan. All of these are spangled with eye-like richly-colored spots, so that a peacock with its tail spread is one of the most brilliant objects in nature.
Well he knows how royal is his dress, and dearly he loves to show himself to the plainly-dressed ladies of his flock, strutting about with full spread train and turning slowly round that they all may see how lovely an object he is.
Once each year this proud fellow loses his fine feathers, and at this time he tries to keep out of sight, as if ashamed of his plain attire. But they soon grow again and once more he comes forward to show himself to the world.
This bird comes from India and Ceylon. There is another species in Java which is said to be still finer in its display. We are told that “its crest, head and neck are rich green, the breast bluish-green margined with gold, the back bright copper-color barred with green and light brown, and the upper tail coverts rich green with gold and copper-color reflections.” Nature seems to have done her best to lay splendor on this royal son of the tropics.
What else shall be said about this bird, aside from the beauty of its colors? In its younger days this does not appear, the sexes being alike in plumage when they are young. The male is three years old before its days of show begin. The cry of the bird is a shrill sound like Pao, and it also makes an odd noise by rattling its quills. It is given to quarrels and keeps to itself at night, roosting high in the trees. Its chief food is grain, though it also eats insects and worms, and if it can get into a garden it is sure to make mischief before it is found out.
In the woods of India the peacock is said to be often seen in company with the tiger, though why no one knows. It is not easy to learn in what way these two can help each other or what tastes they have in common. If the taste of the tiger is for the meat of the peacock, the bird would be likely to keep out of its way.
How long it has been since the peafowl was first tamed we cannot tell, but the Bible speaks of it as being known in Palestine in King Solomon’s time. Alexander the Great seems to have brought it from India to Greece and after that time it was well known in the west. The Greeks and Romans called it the bird of Juno, and the rich Romans, who would go to any expense to make a new dish for their tables, are said to have eaten the tongues and brains of the peafowl. How many of the birds must have been killed to serve for one foolish dinner!
In our days the eggs and young are said to make good eating, but the birds are kept usually for their beauty alone, though their splendid tails are used at times as an ornament.