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a hunlaid hegg for dyes〃 after she had jilted the postman。
As to the eggs； I am sure the birds will go on laying one a day for
'tis their nature to。 Whether the product of the intelligent；
conscious； logical fowl； will be as rich in quality as that of the
uneducated and barbaric bird； I cannot say； but it ought at least
to be equal to the Denmark egg eaten now by all Londoners； and if；
perchance； left uneaten； it is certain to be a very superior wife
and mother。
While we are discussing the subject of educating poultry； I confess
that the case of Cannibal Ann gives me much anxiety。 Twice in her
short career has she been under suspicion of eating her own eggs；
but Phoebe has never succeeded in catching her in flagrante
delicto。 That eminent detective service was reserved for me； and I
have been haunted by the picture ever since。 It is an awful sight
to witness a hen gulp her own newly…laid fresh egg； yolk； white；
shell； and all； to realise that you have fed； sheltered； chased；
and occasionally run in； a being possessed of no moral sense； a
being likely to set a bad example； inculcate vicious habits among
her innocent sisters； and lower the standard of an entire poultry…
yard。 The Young Poultry Keeper's Friend gives us no advice on this
topic； and we do not know whether to treat Cannibal Ann as the
victim of a disease； or as a confirmed criminal； whether to
administer remedies or cut her off in the flower of her youth。
We have had a sad scene to…night。 A chick has been ailing all day；
and when we shut up the brood we found him dead in a corner。
Phoebe put him on the ground while she busied herself about the
coop。 The other chicks came out and walked about the dead one
again and again； eyeing him curiously。
〃Poor little chap！〃 said Phoebe。 〃E's never 'ad a mother！ 'E was
an incubytor chicken； and wherever I took 'im 'e was picked at。
There was somethink wrong with 'im； 'e never was a fyvorite！〃
I put the fluffy body into a hole in the turf； and strewed a
handful of grass over him。 〃Sad little epitaph！〃 I thought。 〃He
never was a fyvorite！〃
CHAPTER VIII
July 13th。
I like to watch the Belgian hares eating their trifolium or pea…
pods or grass； graceful； gentle things they are； crowding about Mr。
Heaven； and standing prettily； not greedily； on their hind legs； to
reach for the clover； their delicate nostrils and whiskers all a…
quiver with excitement。
As I look out of my window in the dusk I can see one of the mothers
galloping across the enclosure； the soft white lining of her tail
acting as a beacon…light to the eight infant hares following her； a
quaint procession of eight white spots in it glancing line。 In the
darkest night those baby creatures could follow their mother
through grass or hedge or thicket； and she would need no warning
note to show them where to flee in case of danger。 〃All you have
to do is to follow the white night…light that I keep in the lining
of my tail；〃 she says； when she is giving her first maternal
lectures； and it seems a beneficent provision of Nature。 To be
sure； Mr。 Heaven took his gun and went out to shoot wild rabbits
to…day； and I noted that he marked them by those same self…
betraying tails； as they scuttled toward their holes or leaped
toward the protecting cover of the hedge； so it does not appear
whether Nature is on the side of the farmer or the rabbit 。 。 。
There is as much comedy and as much tragedy in poultry life as
anywhere； and already I see rifts within lutes。 We have in a cage
a French gentleman partridge married to a Hungarian lady of
defective sight。 He paces back and forth in the pen restlessly；
anything but content with the domestic fireside。 One can see
plainly that he is devoted to the Boulevards； and that if left to
his own inclinations he would never have chosen any spouse but a
thorough Parisienne。
The Hungarian lady is blind of one eye； from some stray shot； I
suppose。 She is melancholy at all times； and occasionally goes so
far as to beat her head against the wire netting。 If liberated；
Mr。 Heaven says that her blindness would only expose her to death
at the hands of the first sportsman； and it always seems to me as
if she knows this； and is ever trying to decide whether a loveless
marriage is any better than the tomb。
Then； again； the great； grey gander is； for some mysterious reason；
out of favour with the entire family。 He is a noble and amiable
bird； by far the best all…round character in the flock； for dignity
of mien and large…minded common…sense。 What is the treatment
vouchsafed to this blameless husband and father？ One that puts
anybody out of sorts with virtue and its scant rewards。 To begin
with； the others will not allow him to go into the pond。 There is
an organised cabal against it； and he sits solitary on the bank；
calm and resigned； but； naturally； a trifle hurt。 His favourite
retreat is a tiny sort of island on the edge of the pool under the
alders； where with his bent head； and red…rimmed philosophic eyes
he regards his own breast and dreams of happier days。 When the
others walk into the country twenty…three of them keep together；
and Burd Alane （as I have named him from the old ballad） walks by
himself。 The lack of harmony is so evident here； and the slight so
intentional and direct； that it almost moves me to tears。 The
others walk soberly； always in couples； but even Burd Alane's
rightful spouse is on the side of the majority； and avoids her
consort。
What is the nature of his offence？ There can be no connubial
jealousies； I judge； as geese are strictly monogamous； and having
chosen a partner of their joys and sorrows they cleave to each
other until death or some other inexorable circumstance does them
part。 If they are ever mistaken in their choice； and think they
might have done better； the world is none the wiser。 Burd Alane
looks in good condition； but Phoebe thinks he is not quite himself；
and that some day when he is in greater strength he will turn on
his foes and rend them； regaining thus his lost prestige； for
formerly he was king of the flock。
* * *
Phoebe has not a vestige of sentiment。 She just asked me if I
would have a duckling or a gosling for dinner； that there were two
quite readythe brown and yellow duckling； that is the last to
leave the water at night； and the white gosling that never knows
his own 'ouse。 Which would I 'ave； and would I 'ave it with sage
and onion？
Now； had I found a duckling on the table at dinner I should have
eaten it without thinking at all； or with the thought that it had
come from Barbury Green。 But eat a duckling that I have stoned out
of the pond； pursued up the bank； chased behind the wire netting；
caught； screaming； in a corner； and carried struggling to his bed？
Feed upon an idiot gosling that I have found in nine different
coops on nine successive nightsin with the newly…hatched chicks；
the half…grown pullets； the setting hen； the 〃invaleed goose；〃 the
drake with the gapes； the old ducks in the pen？Eat a gosling that
I have caught and put in with his brothers and sisters （whom he
never recognises） so frequently and regula