CHAPTER III
JOAN SAVES A CHICKEN’S LIFE
I wonder if you have ever seen a hen feed her chickens. It is a pretty sight. She scratches on the ground, and when she finds something to eat, she calls her children. “Tuk, tuk, tuk,” she cries, and all the little chicks come scurrying up, for they understand quite well what she means, and are always ready for something more to eat. They peep out all sorts of pleased things in chicken language, and each tries to push the others away to get most for himself.
Joan loved to see them, and she used to imitate the old hen and call the chickens and give them some chopped egg. They liked this and got so tame that they would eat out of her hand. Joan’s aunt was quite surprised, and one day she made them take some grain out of her hand. Cheeky jumped on to her thumb, and Piggy and Fluffy lost no time in getting to their dinner. The other three were not quite so trustful. Honeypot looked up in her face as much as to say, “I know Joan, she’s a friend, but I’m not quite so sure about you.” The others, too, were a little undecided and hesitated for a time, so Joan felt the chickens were really sensible enough to know her, after all.
The chickens were so pretty and attractive that Joan wanted them to be like real people, and she thought of all sorts of ideas which she pretended they were thinking. But even she had to own they were not very original. If one did a thing, they would all do it. Their favorite game was certainly “Follow-my-leader.” One would run into a corner and scratch, and at once the others would run and scratch, too. Then they would all run to the gate, and if anything came along there would be a quick scamper back to mother and not one would be left behind.
Joan watched them once playing “Follow-my-leader” round a barn door. It was standing wide open and Fluffy ran behind it and poked his head through the crack, just below the hinge. It was not a big space, but Fluffy could just squeeze his neck through. Of course, the others must follow his lead and try and do the same; and all would have been well if only Piggy’s head had been the same size as the others. I expect it was because he had eaten rather more than the rest that his head was just a tiny bit bigger. When it came to his turn, he pushed hard to get his head through, as all the others had done, but when he tried to pull it back, it stuck. It was terrible; there he was held as if he were in a trap. Oh, what a noise he made! Joan heard his shrill frightened peeping and thought at least he must be nearly killed. She came running up and was very alarmed when she saw what was the matter. But she was a sensible child, and instead of running away to call some one, she squeezed in behind the door, being very careful not to push it to, as that would have choked the poor little chick. Then she firmly took hold of Piggy, and putting two fingers through the crack she gently pushed the fluffy little head back through it and pulled the chicken out of danger. Just as she had put him on the ground and he had given another loud peep to show there was no harm done, the old hen came running up clucking in such an excited manner as much as to say, “it doesn’t do to leave these babies one minute, they are bound to get into mischief.” She had heard her chick crying and had hurried up to see what she could do. I wonder what she would have done to help. Something I feel sure, for it is wonderful how clever mother animals and birds can be when it is a case of taking care of their young.
Joan told her she had better lead her little family further away from such a danger trap, and to help her Joan called the chickens to the other end of the yard, and when they came running up, there on the ground lay a nice long worm she had found for them, and she took care that each had a bit.
It is very funny to see chickens drink.