the diary of a goose girl-第4部分

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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。



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　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　owt　sen。〃



CHAPTER　VI



One　learns　to　be　modest　by　living　on　a　poultry　farm；　for　there　are
constant　expositions　of　the　most　deplorable　vanity　among　the　cocks。
We　have　a　couple　of　pea…fowl　who　certainly　are　an　addition　to　the
landscape；　as　they　step　mincingly　along　the　square　of　turf　we
dignify　by　the　name　of　lawn。　　The　head　of　the　house　has　a　most
languid　and　self…conscious　strut；　and　his　microscopic　mind　is　fixed
entirely　on　his　splendid　trailing　tail。　　If　I　could　only　master　his
language　sufficiently　to　tell　him　how　hideously　ugly　the　back　view
of　this　gorgeous　fan　is；　when　he　spreads　it　for　the　edification　of
the　observer　in　front　of　him；　he　would　of　course　retort　that　there
is　a　〃congregation　side〃　to　everything；　but　I　should　at　least　force
him　into　a　defence　of　his　tail　and　a　confession　of　its　limitations。
This　would　be　new　and　unpleasant；　I　fancy；　and　if　it　produced　no
perceptible　effect　upon　his　super…arrogant　demeanour；　I　might
remind　him　that　he　is　likely　to　be　used；　eventually；　for　a　feather
duster；　unless；　indeed；　the　Heavens　are　superstitious　and　prefer　to
throw　his　tail　away；　rather　than　bring　ill　luck　and　the　evil　eye
into　the　house。

The　longer　I　study　the　cock；　whether　Black　Spanish；　White　Leghorn；
Dorking；　or　the　common　barnyard　fowl；　the　more　intimately　I　am
acquainted　with　him；　the　less　I　am　impressed　with　his　character。
He　has　more　pride　of　bearing；　and　less　to　be　proud　of；　than　any
bird　I　know。　　He　is　indolent；　though　he　struts　pompously　over　the
grass　as　if　the　day　were　all　too　short　for　his　onerous　duties。　　He
calls　the　hens　about　him　when　I　throw　corn　from　the　basket；　but
many　a　time　I　have　seen　him　swallow　hurriedly；　and　in　private；　some
dainty　titbit　he　has　found　unexpectedly。　　He　has　no　particular
chivalry。　　He　gives　no　special　encouragement　to　his　hen　when　he
becomes　a　prospective　father；　and　renders　little　assistance　when
the　responsibilities　become　actualities。　　His　only　personal　message
or　contribution　to　the　world　is　his　raucous　cock…a…doodle…doo；
which；　being　uttered　most　frequently　at　dawn；　is　the　most　ill…timed
and　offensive　of　all　musical　notes。　　It　is　so　unnecessary　too；　as
if　the　day　didn't　come　soon　enough　without　his　warning；　but　I
suppose　he　is　anxious　to　waken　his　hens　and　get　them　at　their　daily
task；　and　so　he　disturbs　the　entire　community。　　In　short；　I　dislike
him；　his　swagger；　his　autocratic　strut；　his　greed；　his　irritating
self…consciousness；　his　endless　parading　of　himself　up　and　down　in
a　procession　of　one。

Of　course　his　character　is　largely　the　result　of　polygamy。　　His
weaknesses　are　only　what　might　be　expected；　and　as　for　the　hens；　I
have　considerable　respect　for　the　patience；　sobriety；　and　dignity
with　which　they　endure　an　institution　particularly　offensive　to　all
women。　　In　their　case　they　do　not　even　have　the　sustaining　thought
of　its　being　an　article　of　religion；　so　they　are　to　be　complimented
the　more。

There　is　nothing　on　earth　so　feminine　as　a　hennot　womanly；　simply
feminine。　　Those　men　of　insight　who　write　the　Woman's　Page　in　the
Sunday　newspapers　study　hens　more　than　women；　I　sometimes　think；　at
any　rate；　their　favourite　types　are　all　present　on　this　poultry
farm。

Some　families　of　White　Leghorns　spend　most　of　their　time　in　the
rickyard；　where　they　look　extremely　pretty；　their　slender　white
shapes　and　red　combs　and　wattles　well　set　off　by　the　background　of
golden　hayricks。　　There　is　a　great　oak…tree　in　one　corner；　with　a
tall　ladder　leaning　against　its　trunk；　and　a　capital　roosting…place
on　a　long　branch　running　at　right　angles　with　the　ladder。　　I　try　to
spend　a　quarter　of　an　hour　there　every　night　before　supper；　just
for　the　pleasure　of　seeing　the　feathered　〃women…folks〃　mount　that
ladder。

A　dozen　of　them　surround　the　foot；　waiting　restlessly　for　their
turn。　　One　little　white　lady　flutters　up　on　the　lowest　round　and
perches　there　until　she　reviews　the　past；　faces　the　present；　and
forecasts　the　future；　during　which　time　she　is　gathering　courage
for　the　next　jump。　　She　cackles；　takes　up　one　foot　and　then　the
other；　tilts　back　and　forth；　holds　up　her　skirts　and　drops　them
again；　cocks　her　head　nervously　to　see　whether　they　are　all　staring
at　her　below；　gives　half　a　dozen　preliminary　springs　which　mean
nothing；　declares　she　can't　and　won't　go　up　any　faster；　unties　her
bonnet　strings　and　pushes　back　her　hair；　pulls　down　her　dress　to
cover　her　toes；　and　finally　alights　on　the　next　round；　swaying　to
and　fro　until　she　gains　her　equilibrium；　when　she　proceeds