LETTER XIII.
QUADRUPEDS KEPT FOR AMUSEMENT.--HORSES FOR RIDING AND DRIVING IN PONY
CARRIAGES.--MULES, ZEBRAS, QUAGGAS, AND DONKEYS.--DOGS AND CATS.
I am delighted, my dear Annie, to find that you are fond of riding.
There is something noble and invigorating in the exercise. If your
horse is tractable and docile, you will soon begin to consider him as
your friend; and if he is refractory, you will feel a pride in being
able, by skill, to conquer a powerful being possessing strength so
superior to your own. I like to see a lady ride well and fearlessly;
and, in short, the only drawback I can find to the pleasure your letter
gave me is, the somewhat mysterious malady of your horse, on which you
consult me. You say that, though a fine spirited creature when you are
on its back, it appears dull and stupid when first brought out, and
that it shuffles against things as if it were half-blind. You say you
have consulted a veterinary surgeon, who says that there is no disease
in the eyes, so that I suspect the evil lies where you have probably
never thought of looking for it, viz. in the stable. If your stable is
dark, the mystery is explained at once; and I think it is very probable
that this may be the case, as you tell me that your horse is kept in a
stable apart from the rest, that it may be taken more care of.
I believe, indeed, that more of the diseases of horses depend on the
_stable_ than is generally imagined. If the stable be dark the eyes
are affected; and if it be damp the horse is liable to catch cold; and
coughs, inflammation of the lungs, and finally broken wind, are the
results. Another evil in many cases arises from the stable that you
would not readily think of, and that is, if the doorway is too small
and the posts on each side of it sharp-edged, the hair of the horses
is frequently injured in going in and out. Horses are, in fact, much
more delicate than is generally imagined, and many of the diseases
with which they are afflicted arise from a want of proper attention to
their comforts. On this account, the first thing in the management of
a horse is, to see that its stable is spacious, light, well aired, and
dry. In attending to the latter point, however, care should be taken
that it is kept dry by a drain in the centre and at the back of the
stall, and that the paving is as nearly level as possible. It has for
some years past been the fashion to make the pavement of stables slope
so considerably towards the door that the horse's fore-feet stand much
higher than his hind feet; and this is not only a most uncomfortable
position for a tired horse, but it is very apt to bring on diseases in
the fore-feet and legs. It is also of great importance that the stalls
should be large enough to allow each horse room to turn himself, and to
lie down comfortably in any position he may fancy. We all know what a
comfort it is when we are tired, to stretch ourselves out how we like;
and a hunter turned into a loose box, after a hard day's work, will
often be found lying with his legs stretched out like a dog, instead
of having them doubled under him as horses are obliged to sleep when
confined in narrow stalls.
It is a great advantage when there is a wide space between the stalls
and the door, as it prevents the wind from blowing directly upon the
horses every time the door is opened. It is also best not to have the
stable in an exposed situation, but to have it so placed that it may
be sheltered by some other building from the north and east winds. The
loftiness of the stable is another very important point. It is the
custom in many places to have the hay-loft over it; but this is bad in
every point of view, as it not only makes the ceiling of the stable
low, and by confining the air renders the horses liable to take cold
every time the door is opened, but the dust and seeds from the hay are
apt to fall from the loft whenever the horse is supplied with hay, and
to injure him by getting into his eyes. I am fully aware when I am
saying this, that you can neither alter the position of your stables
nor make them larger, without more expense being incurred than your
husband would perhaps approve of. I do not, however, think that he
would object to having an additional window made, or to adding to the
height of the stable by removing the floor of the loft, particularly
if there be any small room adjoining the stable in which the hay can
conveniently be kept.
A great deal, also, may be done by cleanliness. Whenever the horse is
out, the stable should be thoroughly cleaned and the windows opened,
and whenever there is an opportunity the rack and manger should be
well cleaned and scoured with a brush. It is, however, important that
the stable should be dry when the horse returns to it. In some places
stables are warmed by flues or hot-water pipes, or by a fire being
kept in the harness-room adjoining; and, when there are no means of
this kind, the stable may be kept dry by having a lamp constantly
burning in a lantern suspended from the roof. It is, indeed, said
that any stable, however damp, may be dried with this expedient in
twenty-four hours; and that a similar lamp hung in the harness-room
will be sufficient, without fires, to keep the harness uninjured for
years. A great deal of the comfort and health of your horses must,
however, depend on the care and attention of your grooms. Nothing is
more injurious to a horse than to be kept standing on his litter all
day. To use the words of an exceedingly clever writer on the subject
(Sir George Stephens), "it makes the hoof brittle; dries up the sole,
and destroys its elasticity; cankers the frog, and is a common cause of
grease and swelled legs. If, on the other hand, the dung is regularly
removed, and the dry and clean straw carefully separated every morning,
and placed under the manger till wanted, the stable is free from
unpleasant smells, and about half the quantity of clean straw will be
consumed."
Horses should always be _cleaned_ in the open air, if the weather will
permit; as they frequently hurt themselves against their stalls when
cleaned in the stable, and sometimes acquire a habit of crib-biting.
Many horses have skins so fine as to be unable to bear the use of the
common curry-comb, and these horses should be cleaned with brushes
the bristles of which are of uneven length. Good cleaning is a most
essential point in the management of a horse; and the horse ought to
be so clean as not to soil your hand, or your pocket-handkerchief, if
drawn over his back. Another point to be attended to, after a horse
has had unusual work, is, to let the groom rub his legs down well,
particularly his back sinews: each leg should be rubbed for at least
ten minutes. When horses come in warm, with their legs very dirty, they
should not be washed immediately, but they should be rubbed dry with
straw, and only some of the dirt taken off with a dry brush. The feet
should, however, be examined, and any stones that may be in should
be picked out, and the soles of the feet washed. A horse, when very
hot, should also not be covered with a cloth, till he has been rubbed
dry with straw. Washing the legs of a horse with cold water, when the
horse comes in hot and dirty, is sure to give a sudden chill; and
putting on a cloth, while the hair of a horse is wet from the effects
of violent exercise, sends the perspiration in, and is sure to lay the
foundation for disease. When a horse is very hot, he should be rubbed
for half an hour before any cloth is put on at all; and then, if the
heat of the horse break out into moisture again, the horse should have
a second rubbing, after which he should be covered with another quite
dry cloth. The coat of a horse generally becomes thick and shaggy
in winter, and when it does so the horse may with perfect safety be
clipped, and indeed it will be an advantage, as the hair, if short, is
much easier dried when wet, and can be more thoroughly cleaned. Great
care, however, must be taken to protect a horse when newly clipped
from cold; and, should the weather be severe, the horse not only ought
to have an additional cloth on in the stable, but his legs may be
bandaged with flannel rollers. The feet of a horse should be stopped
every other night with a mixture of clay and cow-dung, and this, and
anointing the hoof with tar in hot weather, will keep the horny part
of the foot moist and elastic. A great improvement has taken place in
shoeing horses within the last few years, by interposing a thick piece
of leather, and, in some cases, of India rubber, between the iron shoe
and the hoof of the horse.
Horses should always be fed and exercised regularly. If the hay be cut,
less will be wasted; and if the oats be bruised and mixed with cut
straw, three feeds a day will generally be sufficient instead of four.
If the servants complain of the additional labour of bruising the oats,
a mill may be procured for that purpose, which will cost a mere trifle,
and the turning of which will afford employment for the poor. It is
seldom advisable to give a horse that is only moderately worked beans,
but it should never be stinted in its water, except when going out.
If horses are kept short of water, they will drink too much when they
have an opportunity; and thus often injure their wind. When a horse is
over-tired, and refuses his corn, he will frequently take a mash of
oatmeal and water, particularly if slightly warm, and nothing can be
better for him.
When a horse is slightly indisposed, I would not advise you to put him
immediately into the hands of a farrier. Most country farriers are
ignorant people, who have a certain set of recipes which have been
handed down from father to son, and who are as far behind the present
age as Culpeper, when he recommends ointments of certain herbs gathered
under Mercury to be kept in every house, as a sovereign remedy for all
complaints, even broken bones. It is said that horses thrive most if
they have always a lump of salt and another of chalk in the manger.
Many persons turn a horse out to grass to cure a cough, but this
generally only makes matters worse, if the horse has been previously
kept in the stable. When a horse has taken cold, he may frequently be
cured by stopping his corn and giving him mashes of thin gruel and bran
for a few days. Slight feverish symptoms, which often attend a cold,
and are known by the nose feeling hot, the eyes looking dull, and the
coat rough, with loss of appetite, may generally be cured by similar
means, with a dose of two drachms of aloes for a horse, and somewhat
less for a pony. If these means are not sufficient, the horse may be
bled; but, if it still continues ill, a veterinary surgeon must be sent
for. For a bruised leg or a light strain a common bread poultice may be
applied; a large coarse stocking being drawn over the leg first, and
then the poultice put into it so as to lie on the diseased part. Should
a horse break his knees, the part ought to be washed with warm water
and a sponge, to remove any dirt or gravel; and then a little unsalted
lard or butter should be applied, with a little powdered alum in it if
the wound be large; and, taking care to make the hair lie as smooth as
possible, a bit of linen should be laid on the place, and kept on with
a knee-cap, not tied too tight. If the knee be bruised as well as cut,
a poultice should be applied, and changed two or three times a day; but
on no account use gunpowder, which is a favourite remedy for broken
knees with ignorant people, as it only irritates the wound.
On no account keep a vicious horse. Do not believe what horse-jockeys
or grooms may tell you of it being only play, or being easily cured. It
is true that horses often become vicious through the teasing of grooms;
but vice, when once shown, is never thoroughly eradicated. Sir George
Stephens has some excellent observations on this subject. "A horse
does not understand a jest: tickling him or pinching him; worrying him
in the stall; sometimes coaxing and then scolding him; dressing him
when feeding; pushing him with the fork; all play of this sort leads
to retort, which, when it becomes habitual, is incurable vice." Other
faults in horses arise from the follies of riders. "A horse should be
mounted steadily, but promptly; and when mounted, should be allowed
to walk away quietly for the first hundred yards: instead of this,
nothing is more common than to see a man, as soon as his foot is in the
stirrup, apply the spur and check the curb, to show off his horse's
spirit. Thus he becomes irritable and impatient the instant he is
led out of the stable, and sometimes acquires a habit of rearing and
plunging before the rider is well settled in his seat. Some thoughtless
blockheads can never pass a carriage (particularly if there are ladies
in it) without the same ambition of display; and hence the animal views
the approaching carriage as a forerunner of punishment, and resists
every attempt to pass it." In harness horses frequently acquire a habit
of gibbing or swerving to one ride from inattention to the collar; as
if it galls the shoulder, or presses on the windpipe, which it often
does when not made expressly for the horse that wears it, "he resists
the draught; and, when punished for resistance, he rears or kicks;
and, if he thus vanquishes a timid driver, he will repeat the trick
till it becomes habitual." Many young men take pride in urging a horse
forward, and applying the curb at the same time to make the horse
collect himself, and _pioff_ or make the _coubrette_; or, in other
words, prance and rear. If, when the horse is in this state, the right
rein be pressed, the horse will _passage_, that is, cross his legs,
and go sideways to the right, with his head bending towards the right;
but if the left rein be pressed also, though not quite so strongly as
the right, the horse will perform the manœuvre called the _épaule en
dedans_, and will go sideways to the left, bending and looking towards
the right. But without going through all the terms of the _manège_, I
may observe that most riding-masters advise their pupils to make the
horse feel the rein; and this, which is called the bearing or _appui_,
is of the utmost consequence in good horsemanship. There should indeed
be a proper understanding, if I may use the term, between the horse's
mouth and the rider's hand, so as to make the horse obey the slightest
indication from the rein. All the movements of guidance in a good rider
should indeed be so slight and gentle as to be almost imperceptible,
there should be nothing approaching to jerking or pulling; but the
horse should seem instinctively to obey the rider's will. It is a very
good plan to accustom your horse to your voice, and to pat or caress
him and give him occasionally an apple, a piece of bread or a carrot,
speaking kindly to him at the same time. Horses may indeed be taught as
many tricks as dogs, and sometimes more. I have known several instances
of shooting ponies learning to open gates; and I have heard of others
who have been taught to pick up a handkerchief, a glove, or even a
whip, in their mouths, and to turn their heads round with it, so as to
give it to their rider.
Whenever you ride out, take care that your hair is combed smoothly
off your face, and firmly twisted up behind; your hat should also
fit properly, and be tied firmly under your chin, not merely for the
comfort it will give you, but because, if either your hair or your hat
should feel loose, and you should put up your hand to arrange them, you
might touch the horse with your whip, or slacken your hold of the reins
in such a manner as to expose yourself to the greatest danger.
It is hardly possible to give directions for holding the reins properly
by words; as you would learn better in five minutes by being shown,
than from a volume of descriptions. I may, however, advise you to take
care to sit in the centre of your saddle, and not to hang by the left
crutel of your pommel. You should also take care to keep your body
erect, or slightly leaning backwards; as, if you allow yourself to
lean forwards, you will not only have an awkward air, but be in danger
of making your horse stumble, by your weight being thrown too much upon
its shoulders. The reins look best when held only in the left hand,
while the whip is held in the right, care being taken to carry it in
such a manner as not to irritate the flank of the horse.
In modern side-saddles, the right-hand crutel of the pommel is made
very small; but there is a third crutel added behind, nominally for
assistance in leaping, but which is very useful in enabling a lady to
keep her proper position in the saddle. The stirrup is now considered
of little use, except to support the left foot, and many of the best
riding-masters make their pupils ride without one, and to put their
arms behind them, while the master holds the longe and urges the horse
to his speed. When a lady can do this she has learned the art of
riding, and will be able to rise and fall with her horse without any
apparent exertion, and as if the fable of the Centaur were realised,
and the horse and his rider had become one body.
The preserving of a proper balance is the most difficult part of
horsemanship, and it must be attended to in every movement that is
given to the horse, in accordance with the laws of motion in mechanics.
Thus, when the horse is urged forward, the body should lean forwards
likewise; and when the horse is checked, the body should be bent
backwards. A lady is said to have a good seat when she can see the
right shoe of her horse in all his paces, by only bending slightly
forwards; and when she has a good seat, particularly if she be
courageous and have presence of mind, she will not easily be thrown. It
is, however, proper to know what to do in cases of emergency. When a
horse rears, the rider should loosen the rein, and press the weight of
her body forward; and when a horse kicks, she should hold her body back
and keep a tight rein. When a horse will keep turning round several
times, he may generally be checked by pulling his head in the opposite
direction to that in which he wants to turn; and, when a horse runs
away, the best way is not to attempt to pull him in, but for the rider
to direct all her energies to keeping her horse in the right course,
and retaining her seat. When a horse shies it is from fear, and he
should be patted and encouraged; and, when a horse stumbles, his rider
should raise and support him by pulling in his head, and at the same
time throwing her body back.
I do not know whether you have a _pony-carriage_; but, if you have not,
I would advise you to get one, as you would find it very useful in
summer to drive round your park, and to pay visits to your neighbours.
In a close carriage you see very little of the scenery, and enjoy but
little benefit from the air; whereas, in an open carriage, you have
more enjoyment of the beauty of the country than even in walking; and
you have every advantage from the air without running so much risk
of taking cold, as you would do if you were to open the windows of
a close carriage. _Àpropos_ to this, I have often wondered that no
better means have yet been contrived of ventilating a close carriage
than opening the windows, the draught from which is sure to give cold
to some one. Surely a ventilator might be fixed in the roof, and a
little shutter contrived to slide below it, when it was not wanted,
which might be moved by a string inside the carriage. I have lately
seen, in the _coupé_ of a French diligence in the South of France, a
little opening just above the windows, which was filled in with double
_toile métallique_, or wire cloth, so very fine as to admit but little
light, and no perceptible air, and which was yet sufficient to prevent
the glass from becoming covered with steam when all the windows were
closed; and something of the kind might, I think, be generally adopted.
But to return to your pony-carriage. If you buy one, take especial care
that it "runs light;" as it is not only a relief to the feelings to
know that your horses have as light a weight to draw as possible, but
you will find the motion of such a carriage infinitely more agreeable
than that of one which is dragged along with difficulty. Besides, a
pony-carriage that is intended only to carry a light weight, and to run
over smooth turf or a good road, need not be built so strongly as a
travelling carriage, which is to convey luggage as well as passengers,
and which will be exposed to all the rough treatment it is likely to
meet with at inns, as well as the shaking it will probably undergo
from the different kinds of roads to be driven over. It is curious
enough, however, that a carriage is rarely so much hurt by passing over
pavement, however much it appears to shake, as it is by passing over
bad roads, the surface of which is uneven, and by which the springs
and braces are strained unequally. The French postilions are so well
aware of this, that they always prefer rattling their carriages over
the _pavé_, to driving on the side roads, however smooth and inviting
they may look. In ancient times we are told the ladies had rods, called
_pomelles_, fixed in the roofs of their carriages, with a knob at the
end to hold by, in order to steady themselves when the carriage was
jerked about by the deep ruts in the roads. This was, I believe, about
the time of Chaucer; and though we retain remnants of the custom in the
lace-holders of carriages in modern days, our carriages are now too
well hung to render anything of the kind really necessary.
You are perhaps not aware that a carriage is hung exactly on the
same principle as a hammock is suspended in a ship at sea, viz. to
substitute a gentle and regular swinging motion for an irregular
jerking one. The principle of suspending carriages is as old as the
time of the Saxons; but it has been reserved for modern days to break
the force of inevitable jolts, by such a variety of pieces of elastic
steel or springs, as to render travelling in a carriage as easy as
gliding in a boat down a smooth river. Carriages, such as those we
have now in use, are, as no doubt you know, quite a recent invention.
You remember the celebrated letter of Henry IV., in which he says,
"I cannot come to you to-day, because my wife is using my coach;"
and even in the time of Charles II. there were but fifty coaches in
London and Westminster. Now it would be rather difficult to count
them, and it would even be a more tedious task than I should like to
undertake, to enumerate their kinds. I shall, therefore, content myself
with mentioning the points that are of most importance in selecting a
carriage.
The first thing to be examined is, whether it possesses proper
elasticity; and this is generally tried by having the carriage shaken
on its springs, and observing whether it appears rigid or yielding to
the vibrations of the motion. All carriages ought to be built of ash,
which is at once the most elastic and the toughest of our English
woods; but, as it is rather expensive, cheaper woods are sometimes
substituted. It is also known that the narrower the tread of a carriage
is, that is, the shorter the axle-trees are, the easier will be the
draught. The springs should then be examined, as the carriage runs
lighter and is easier when the plates of the springs are of equal
thickness, though the largest plate is frequently made much thicker
than the rest. The stuffing of the carriage ought also to be examined,
as, if the material with which it is stuffed be not left sufficiently
loose to be elastic, a stuffed carriage will be nearly as hard and as
uncomfortable to ride in as a carriage which was formed only of bare
boards; and care should be taken that the seats are made sufficiently
wide and low, and far enough apart not to cramp the legs.
It is a great point, as regards the appearance of a carriage, that
the horses should be suited to it. The most elegant little carriage
in the world would look ridiculous if drawn by a pair of heavy
cart-horses; and when a very heavy-looking carriage is drawn by ponies,
or very light blood-horses, the unpleasant impression produced by the
incongruity is increased by a feeling of pain at seeing such noble
creatures as horses subjected to labour unsuited for them.
Some persons use _mules_ for drawing carriages, and they have the
advantage of being sure-footed, besides which they are, I believe, much
stronger, in proportion to their size, than horses. They, however,
partake largely of the bad qualities derived from their asinine
parentage, and are sometimes extremely obstinate and difficult to
manage.
The _quagga_ and the _zebra_ are other animals of the ass kind, which
are sometimes kept in parks for their beauty, and occasionally driven
in carriages. However, as those who know them best say that they
are generally wicked, treacherous, obstinate, and fickle in their
disposition, I think the less a lady has to do with them the better.
After saying so much with regard to animals used for riding and
drawing, I must not omit to mention _asses_. Most persons residing in
the country keep one or two of these useful animals, in order that
they may be ready to do any kind of work that their proud rival, the
horse, is unfit for. It is scarcely possible to imagine two animals
bearing considerable resemblance to each other in form, more unlike in
character and constitution. The horse, as an able writer on the subject
says, "is proud, fiery, and impetuous; nice in his taste; and delicate
in his constitution. The ass, on the contrary, is humble, patient, and
contented with scanty and coarse food, which other cattle reject. He
bears, with patience and fortitude, the most cruel treatment: yet he is
more susceptible of strong attachment than the horse; has, apparently,
more prudence and reflection; and is capable of a degree of education
which would not be anticipated from the forlorn and dejected appearance
which coarse food and harsh treatment have rendered habitual to him."
I think you told me in your first letter that you were very much struck
with the kindness of your husband, who, having recollected that you had
been accustomed to take asses' milk, had provided a she-ass for you.
Now, if that she-ass has a foal, let me recommend you to try what can
be done to improve it by good food and kind treatment. I do not mean
that it should have three or four regular feeds of corn every day, like
a horse; but if it is fed twice or thrice a day on cut hay and straw,
mixed with a very few bruised oats, it will soon grow large and strong,
and will display a degree of liveliness and spirit that those who only
know asses in their degraded state would scarcely believe possible.
Though asses are proverbially hardy, warmth seems congenial to them,
and it is a well-known fact, that in Persia and Arabia asses are noble
and high-spirited creatures, fetching a higher price than horses, and
generally preferred to them for the saddle. Even in Spain, they are
frequently fifteen hands high, that is, as large as a good-sized horse;
while in the north they are small, and by no means common. Till lately
they were very seldom seen in either Scotland or Sweden, and they are
unknown in Norway.
If you bring up your little donkey as I have advised, I think you will
find it advantageous to have it regularly cleaned like a horse, and you
need not be afraid of your groom hurting it with the curry-comb, as the
skin of the ass is remarkably thick. It must, however, be broken in and
regularly trained before you venture to ride it, as you will find it
full of spirit. The usual age for breaking donkeys in is about three
years, but, as yours will be rather precocious, I think you may begin
when it is about two years old. Asses and mules are admirably adapted
for mountainous countries, as their hoofs are long, and furnished with
very sharp rims, leaving a hollow in the centre like the ring of a
patten. The hoof of the horse, on the contrary, is round and nearly
flat underneath.
It is the peculiar formation of the foot that renders mules so valuable
in Spain, where there are so many mountain ridges to be climbed over;
and I have been told that in Spain sixty guineas English is by no means
an uncommon price to be given for a good mule. You must not form any
idea of what your donkey will be from the specimens you have seen at
watering places; for no doubt you remember what the Irishman said of
a Ramsgate donkey--"that it was the hardest-worked creature in the
universe; for it was carrying angels all the day, and spirits all the
night." Your donkey, on the contrary, will spurn the ground beneath
him; and I expect, when I come to see you, to find you cantering over
the downs upon it with your little dog Fair Star running by your side.
Haying mentioned your pretty little spaniel reminds me that I promised
to give you some hints on _dog management_, and I think I cannot make a
more useful conclusion to my letter.
In the first place, it is generally allowed by the learned in such
matters, that whenever a dog becomes very fat, which lap-dogs are very
apt to do, it is sure to have that distressing disease called the
_canine asthma_. How many poor dogs have I heard wheezing and panting
with this complaint, and how earnestly have I longed to become their
doctor! When the disease is of moderate standing, very frequently a
little abstinence, and feeding regularly, but only at stated times,
will give relief; but, if this is not enough, one grain of tartar
emetic with two, three, or four grains of calomel, according to the
size of the dog, will effect a cure.
_Sore eyes_ are for the most part produced by some derangement of the
stomach; and, for their cure, putting a stick of sulphur in some water
within reach of the dog will generally be sufficient. The water should
be changed every day, but the same piece of sulphur will do for months.
Almost all young dogs are liable to the _distemper_, and it kills many.
When seized with it before they are eighteen months old they generally
die, but after that age it is much less likely to prove fatal. Most
dog-doctors give a dose of tartar emetic and calomel, like that I have
mentioned above, if they are called in while the disease is in its
first stage; but, when it is attended with a kind of dysentery, they
give balls made of prepared chalk, gum arabic, and conserve of roses,
and the dog is fed on rice-milk. The best cure however is, I believe,
a powder sold in the chemists' shops compounded especially for this
disease; and you must observe, whatever means of cure may be adopted,
it is essential during the whole progress of the complaint that the dog
should be kept warm and well fed.
When dogs have _fits_ they may generally be cured by throwing cold
water over them, and _inflammation of the lungs_ requires bleeding.
_Inflammation of the bowels_ is generally incurable, as is likewise
_canine madness_; and in the latter case, of course, the dog should be
killed as soon as possible. Should, however, any human being or any
animal be bitten, the following remedy has been recommended to me by a
highly valued friend, who had it from an eminent French surgeon. It is
simply to mix two table-spoonfuls of fresh chloride of lime, in powder,
with half a pint of water, and with this keep continually washing the
wound. The chlorine evolved by this process is said to possess the
power of decomposing the virus; but I hope and trust you may never
have occasion to try its efficacy. Chloride of lime is, you know,
wonderfully efficacious in preventing infection, and in dispelling
noxious gases.
As I am partial to _cats_, I cannot resist saying a few words
respecting them. Though originally the natives of warm climates, they
are generally much more hardy than dogs. They like warmth, however,
and are very powerfully affected by changes in the weather. You are,
perhaps, not aware that there are four distinct races of cats; viz.,
the tabby, which includes the black cats, and which is nearest allied
to the wild kinds; the tortoise-shell cat, which came originally from
Spain, and the males of which are buff, with stripes of a darker hue;
the white and light-coloured cats, which have reddish eyes and a
greyish tint in their fur, and are descended from the Chartreuse breed;
and the Angora cats, which are quite distinct from all the others, and
are known by their long fur. The tailless cats of Cornwall and the
Isle of Man belong to the Chartreuse breed, and they are the ugliest
of their kind, as the Angora cats are the handsomest. Cats are seldom
ill, except from cold, which generally gets well without any particular
care being taken of it; but when they have any serious disease it
generally proves fatal.
LETTER XIV.
QUADRUPEDS KEPT FOR SUPPLYING FOOD.--COWS, CALVES, GOATS, PIGS,
RABBITS, AND DEER.
I am very glad, my dear Annie, to hear such favourable accounts of
your garden, and to find, by the inquiries you are beginning to make,
that you really are taking a lively interest in country affairs. You
say you are getting quite fond of your dairy; but that you cannot
understand how it is that your cows produce so much less milk in the
morning than they do at night, when there are exactly twelve hours
between the milkings in both cases; as they are milked first at five
in the morning, and again at five in the afternoon. I have no doubt
from what you say, that your cows are kept in the cow-house during the
night, and only turned out during the day, as this would account for
the difference in the quantity of milk. But such a mode of management,
though it saves trouble to the dairy-maid, who finds it much easier
to milk the cows in the cow-house than in the open field, is bad for
both the cows and the dairy; as the cows, after feeding on grass all
day, cannot of course relish dry food at night, and whenever they fast
unnaturally very little milk is secreted.
Your dairy-maid will probably tell you that cows are very delicate, and
that they will catch cold if they sleep in the open air; but from May
till September, unless the weather be particularly cold and rainy, they
are less liable to take cold if they sleep in the open air than if they
are kept in a warm cow-house all night, and turned out about sunrise.
Cows are peculiarly sensible of all sudden changes of temperature,
especially from heat to cold; and, after they have been kept in a
cow-house all the winter, great care should be taken to accustom them
gradually to the change when they are first turned out to grass, by
letting them out only for a few hours in the middle of the day; but
when they are become accustomed to the open air, and the nights are
warm, they are much better kept in the open air altogether, especially
if there is a shed in the field, under which they can find a dry place
to lie upon if it should rain.
The following observations on this subject are from an excellent work,
entitled _The Book of the Farm_, published in 1844:--"This mode of
allowing them to lie out always in a sheltered field, no doubt, imposes
a good deal of labour on the dairy-maid and her assistant, in carrying
the milk to the dairy after the calves have been weaned, but I am
persuaded it is an excellent system for the health of the cows. Under
it, cows rise from their lair at daybreak, and feed while the dew is
on the grass; and by the time when the hour of milking arrives, say
six o'clock, they are already partially filled with food, and stand
contented, chewing the cud, while the milking proceeds. They then
rove about, and fill themselves, and by nine o'clock they lie down
in a shady part of the field, and chew their cud until milking-time
arrives at mid-day; after which they again roam about for food, and,
when the afternoon is hot, will stand in the coolest part of the
field, whisking away the flies with their tails and ears. The evening
milking takes place about seven, after which they feed industriously,
and take up their lair about sunset, from which they rouse themselves
in the morning before being milked. Some people are apprehensive that
cows must injure themselves by eating grass which is wet with dew in
the morning; but it is a fact, which I believe is not so sufficiently
known as it should be, that bedewed grass before sunrise, and grass
after it is dried by the sun, are alike wholesome for animals; and it
is only when the dew is in the act of being evaporated, immediately
after sunrise, that grass proves injurious to them. Why it should be
injurious at that particular state I do not precisely know, but I
imagine it to be so, because the grass then becomes suddenly cold by
the evaporation of the dew. When cows lie out, they have nearly filled
themselves by the time the dew is evaporated, and therefore feel less
inclined to eat the grass while in the dangerous state; whereas cows
that are housed all night are usually milked about sunrise, and put out
to grass just at the very time the dew on it is being evaporated, and
is, of course, in the most dangerous state, just when the cows feel the
greatest hunger, and eat most grass."
When cows eat a quantity of grass in this state, they very often have
the disease which is called _hoven_ or _blown_. To make you understand
this fearful complaint, I must remind you that cows, in common with all
ruminating animals, have four stomachs; and that, when a cow is turned
into a field, she twists her tongue round mouthful after mouthful of
the long grass, and after biting each off, conveys it without chewing
to her first stomach or paunch, till this is about half full, when
the animal seems stimulated by nature to seek rest and quiet, for she
leaves off eating, and either stands perfectly still in some shady
place, or lies down. The paunch now begins to exert its extraordinary
power of separating a small portion of the food it contains, and
returning it to the mouth, when the animal begins slowly to masticate
it, moistening it as she does so with small quantities of water which
she draws up from time to time from her second stomach, or honeycomb,
in which water is retained for that purpose; and this operation is
called chewing the cud. The food, when thoroughly masticated, is
conveyed by another channel to the third stomach or many-plies, where
it is subjected to muscular action; and, finally, it is conveyed into
the fourth stomach, or red bag, which contains the gastric juice, and
which in calves is the part used for rennet; and here the process
of digestion is completed. Sheep, goats, deer, and camels are all
ruminating animals, and are, of course, all furnished with the same
apparatus for digestion; but in sheep the paunch is smaller, as they
bite close to the ground, and take smaller mouthfuls than cattle; and
in camels the second stomach, or receptacle for water, is much larger.
Whenever ruminating animals are particularly hungry, or are excited
by any other cause to eat too much food, they fill the paunch so full
that it is unable to exert its power of separating the food it contains
into small portions for mastication, and, the whole mass beginning to
ferment in the paunch, gases are generated, which distend the paunch
till it bursts, and the unfortunate animal is suffocated, unless it
is relieved by puncturing the paunch through the hide, or by forcing
an instrument called a probang down the throat into the paunch, and
thus opening a passage for the gases to escape. A probang is a piece
of whalebone with a bit of sponge firmly fixed to one end; but, if one
is not at hand, a cane with a knot at the end, or even a riding-whip,
with a thick end, would probably suffice. The best instrument is a kind
of stomach pump; but that, of course, can only be had from a cattle
doctor. When the paunch is to be punctured, the animal must be stabbed
with a knife (a penknife will do) midway between the haunch-bone and
the last rib of the left side; and the opening should be prevented
from closing, by the introduction of a tin tube or something of
that kind, till the gases are dispelled. In the South of France a
proper instrument is kept for this purpose, made something like an
oyster-knife, with a guard to prevent it from going too deeply into the
animal. As soon as the animal is relieved a strong stimulant should be
administered, such as half a pint of gin, or an ounce of hartshorn in
a pint of ale; but the animal for some days should be fed sparingly,
and a tonic composed of gentian, aloes, ginger, and blue vitriol, in
powder, each one drachm, and oak bark in powder six drachms, made into
a ball with honey, may be given every morning.
As I have begun to speak of the diseases of cows, I may add that in
cases of _cold_ and slight feverish symptoms, they are generally
relieved by giving them half an ounce of nitre in a mash every night.
Where there are any symptoms of inflammation, as, for example, if the
nose is very red and hot and dry, and the cow appears very thirsty, and
has her body so hard that she seems to suffer pain when it is touched,
she may be bled, and a saline draught, composed of eight ounces of
Epsom salts and four ounces of castor oil may be administered; or, if a
stronger dose seems requisite, to these may be added half an ounce of
powdered aloes, beaten up with the yolk of an egg, and mixed gradually
with eight ounces of water.
In _diarrhœa_, or _dysentery_, give four ounces of suet boiled in eight
ounces of skim-milk, with six ounces of starch dissolved in boiling
water, and one drachm of powdered alum; and keep the animal in a warm
dry place, giving it mashes of barley meal or buck-wheat, but not of
malt, and only a little water, which should be warm.
If the cow be affected with the _yellows_, which is known by the
nostrils and eyelids looking yellow, ten grains of calomel should be
given every other night, and a saline dose once a week, the animal
being kept warm, and only turned out in the middle of the day, in a
fresh pasture, if practicable.
Loss of appetite may be relieved by tonics.
All other diseases of cattle (and they are numerous) are too serious to
be tampered with, and should be referred to a good cattle doctor at
once.
Many persons say a great deal of the _kinds_ of cows that are to be
preferred; but this I think of very little consequence, as there are
good and bad milkers of every breed. Generally speakings small, neat,
compact-looking cows, are best suited for a gentleman's demesne, as
they look better in the landscape, and do not tread up the ground so
much as large heavy cattle. Alderney cows are much admired for the
elegance of their forms and the richness of their milk; but they are
delicate, and are subject to colds and loss of appetite. The Ayrshire
cows are quite as handsome, and both better milkers and much hardier;
but they are not often to be met with in England.
Whatever kind you select, a great deal depends upon their management.
They are delicate in their appetites, and do not like grass that they
have trodden down and breathed upon for many days; and they require
rather long grass, because they always wrap the grass round with the
tongue before they bite it, instead of nibbling the grass with their
lips, and biting close to the ground, as is done by sheep and horses.
For these reasons cows require to have their pasture changed every
fortnight if practicable; and, when they are removed from a field, a
man should be employed to toss their manure about so as to prevent it
from lying in patches, as, unless this is done, coarse strong grass,
which no cow will eat, will spring up from every place where a patch of
cow-dung has lain. If, however, the field be properly treated, the cow
may be brought back to it in about a fortnight, or at most in three or
four weeks.
Cows are very particular in having clean water, though they do not
drink often, as the second stomach serves as a reservoir; and where
there is a pond they generally go into it till they come to deep water
before they drink; and this habit is good for their feet. There should
also be either an open shed, or at least one large tree, in the field,
to afford shade for the cows while they are chewing the cud; and they
should never be changed suddenly from a very poor pasture to a very
rich one, or the reverse.
When cows are first taken up from grass in autumn, they should be fed
on cut grass, mixed occasionally with a few carrots; and they should
be turned out in the daytime, but not till after nine or ten o'clock
in the morning, and taken up before the dew falls at night. By degrees
hay should be mingled with their food, and the quantity of this should
be gradually increased while that of the grass is diminished; some
carrots cut in tolerably thick slices and a few grains being given
occasionally, till the cows have become accustomed to their dry food.
There are few points in the management of cows of greater difficulty
than that of enabling them to bear the transition from grass to dry
food without losing their flesh, or the quantity of their milk being
diminished. The one is, indeed, generally dependent on the other, as
no cow will yield a proper quantity of milk unless she is in good
condition; and many cows refuse their food altogether when they are
first taken up for the winter, as they none of them like dry food so
well as grass. It is on this account that many farmers give their cows
turnips when they are first taken up from grass; but all succulent
roots and vegetables, except carrots and boiled potatoes, give an
unpleasant flavour to the milk; so that they ought never to be used in
private families, where, of course, it is of more importance to have
the butter good than to have a large quantity of it.
Many persons milk their cows in summer three times a day, and I believe
this to be a very good plan, where it is an object to get as much milk
as possible, as there is no doubt that frequent milking increases the
quantity of milk secreted by the animal. As, however, I have frequently
heard that the milk is poorer under this management, in most cases I
should think it hardly worth the trouble. It is, however, a very good
plan to make the dairy-maid take a little can of warm water with her
when she goes to the field, and to make her wash the udders and teats
of the cows well with a sponge before she begins to milk. This is not
only a cleanly practice, but it is agreeable to the cow, and makes
her part with her milk more readily. After the dairy-maid has milked
all the cows, she should begin with the first, and milk them all over
again, as the milk produced by this second milking, which is called the
drippings, is always richer than the rest; and besides, if it is left
in the udder, the cow will gradually become dry.
There are many opinions about the length of time that a cow should be
suffered to be dry before calving; some farmers advising the cows to
be let dry two months, and others milking them till within a fortnight
of the time of calving. As far as my own experience goes, the latter
plan is the best, as I have observed that, when cows have been dry a
long time, they are very subject to inflammation in the udder when
they are again milked, instead of the contrary being the case, as is
commonly supposed. When a cow is to be let dry, a little milk is left
in the udder every time of milking, and in about a week or ten days the
secretion of milk will cease.
The first milk after calving is called biestings, and is so very
different in quality from the other milk, that it should not be mixed
with it. It is of a yellow colour and a glutinous nature, and, though
it is used in some places for making puddings and custards without
eggs, it ought always to be reserved for the calf, to whose use nature
has especially assigned it. When calves are allowed to suck their
mothers' milk for the first four or five days after they are calved,
they have seldom any thing the matter with them; but, when they are
fed with the milk of other cows, they generally require castor oil and
other medicines.
Calves, when they are to be reared, are generally fed principally on
milk for the first thirteen weeks, after which they are fed partly with
hay tea, which the dairy-maids make them suck through their fingers,
till they are old enough to eat grass; but the rearing of calves is
rather too difficult a task for you to undertake from any directions
that I could give you; and, as for the management of those poor calves
which are to be fattened and then sold to the butcher, I am sure you
would not wish to know any thing about it.
Some people are very partial to goat's milk, as it is remarkably
rich and sweet; but _goats_ are rather troublesome creatures. In the
first place, the female goats are very capricious, and will not only
seldom permit a stranger to milk them, but will often refuse to give
down their milk even to those to whom they are accustomed. They are
also very troublesome from their being much more partial to branches
of trees than grass; and if they can ever contrive to get into a
shrubbery, which they will do if possible, they will destroy nearly
all the shrubs in an incredibly short space of time. Besides this,
some goats are very fond of butting at children or any persons who may
appear weak and delicate; and, even though they may not be able to do
any serious mischief, they may cause considerable alarm. Many persons
are very fond of the flesh of kids, but it is more eaten abroad than in
England. When goats are kept, they do best in flocks, and they should
have access to shelter, both in winter and summer, extremes of heat and
cold being alike prejudicial to them; and the house in which they are
kept should have a paved floor, and no litter.
Wherever there are cows and a garden, _pigs_ should be kept; as
skim-milk and buttermilk, with the refuse of a garden, are almost
sufficient to maintain a pig. Pigs are unlike most other animals, as
they fatten soonest on sour food; they should, however, be kept clean,
and in many places, I am told, the cottagers rub them with a broom.
Sows are very apt to destroy their young when they are littered with
long straw, as the pigs sometimes hide themselves in it for warmth,
and are trodden upon accidentally or smothered by their mother. A sow
ought, therefore, to be littered with short straw when she is expected
to produce young. Pigs are greedy creatures, and, when there are
several together, the master pig generally puts his foot in the trough
while feeding, so as to prevent any other pig coming near him till he
has done.
Young pigs are generally weaned when they are six or seven weeks old;
and, when they are killed at this age or sooner, they are termed
sucking-pigs, and are generally roasted whole. After they are taken
from their mother they are generally fed three times a day on a food
composed of the washing of dishes, skim-milk, buttermilk, whey,
potatoes, grains, cabbage leaves, pea-shells, and any refuse from the
garden. While pigs are growing they should be allowed as much liberty
as they can have without doing injury; but pigs are very troublesome
creatures to turn into a field, as they will dig up the roots of the
grass wherever they can with their noses, and on this account young
pigs are frequently ringed; that is, a slender iron ring is passed
through the cartilage of the nose, or the cartilage itself is slit open
with a knife. When they are about five or six months old they will have
attained their full growth; and, if they are intended to be killed and
eaten for pork, they are put up in a sty, and fed with boiled potatoes,
milk, and a little barley meal.
When a pig is intended for bacon, he is called a store-pig till he is
about eight months old, when he is put up to be fed, and is fattened
on peas, meal, potatoes, and milk, always adding a sack or two of
ground oats, or crushed barley, a short time before he is killed, to
make the fat firm. Opinions differ very much as to what kind of pig
should be preferred, but those are generally considered the best which
have large deep bodies, short legs, and small heads.
_Rabbits_ are kept either in hutches or in warrens, where they make
burrows in the ground, and live almost in a state of nature. Rabbit
warrens are of very great extent, varying from a hundred to three
thousand acres, and they can only be formed in dry sandy soils. When
rabbits are kept in hutches, the rabbit-house should be particularly
dry and well ventilated, as rabbits are very subject to a disease
called the rot, which is a species of liver complaint, brought on by
impure air and improper food. Each hutch is generally eighteen inches
high, and about three feet wide. It is divided into two chambers, in
one of which the rabbit feeds, sleeping in the other. These chambers
have a sliding-door between them, so that when the rabbit is in one
chamber, the door can be let down, and the other chamber cleared out.
Rabbits should be fed in a great measure on corn, peas, and bran; and
their food may be diversified by carrots, cooked potatoes, tares, and
a few cabbage leaves; but these last should be fresh, and never in the
slightest degree decayed. Lettuces and other green food may also be
occasionally given, provided they are quite fresh, and that what the
rabbit does not eat is removed as soon as it has done feeding. Rabbits
should be fed twice or three times a day, and, if to be fattened for
the table, they are considered best when about three or four months
old. They are liable to many diseases, most of which are incurable.
Some, however, may be stopped in time, if, whenever the rabbits appear
too large in the body, their food is changed, and instead of being fed
on green meat, they are given nothing but cut hay and corn, and ground
peas, or some similar food.
I shall say nothing of the management of _sheep_, as they certainly do
not come within a lady's province. Their constitutions are very much
like those of rabbits, and they are subject to nearly the same diseases.
The kind of deer most common in parks is the _fallow deer_. These
creatures are generally beautifully spotted, and the horns of the
buck are broad and flat. They are changed every year, being at first
shaped like a finger, and not much larger, but they afterwards become
branched, and continue increasing rapidly in size, and in the number
of their branches, till the buck is five years old; they afterwards
increase more slowly, but they continue changing in form for several
years. The does are exceedingly tame, and may be easily taught to come
and feed out of the hand, while the fawns are the prettiest little
creatures imaginable.
The word fallow is said to be derived from an ancient Saxon word
signifying to become pale, in allusion to the manner in which the
colour of the fallow deer is shaded down from the deep streak of dark
brown on the back, to the pale fawn of the sides and the white under
the body. There are several varieties, but the differences consist
chiefly in the shades of colour. The buck of the fallow deer may be
killed from the middle of June to the middle of September; and its
venison, which is considered much finer than that of the doe, is in
perfection when the buck is from six to eight years old. Does may
be killed younger; and if they have had no fawns, or have been soon
deprived of them, they are in season from the middle of November to the
middle of February.
Deers are ruminating animals, and, after they have filled the first
stomach, they go under the shade of trees to chew the cud. When snow
is on the ground fallow deer are generally fed; as, if they are not,
they are apt to do a great deal of mischief to the trees in the park,
by tearing down the branches. When they are fed it is with cut hay and
straw, mixed with young shoots of underwood.
When fallow deer are to be shot, the keeper generally gets into a kind
of hut, so contrived as to have a loophole in the back for the rifle,
and to watch through, so that, when the herd passes by, the keeper may
remain unseen by the deer, and close enough to the herd to select and
shoot the one most suited to his purpose. These huts have seats inside,
and are convenient spots for observing the habits of birds and other
creatures in a wild state, which would not, under other circumstances,
suffer human beings to approach them. It is, however, only in parks
that have been long used for keeping deer, that these huts are to be
found, as modern gamekeepers generally consider themselves sufficiently
expert to select and shoot their deer without any protection. In old
parks, likewise, strips of boards are frequently found nailed to the
trunks of trees to enable the keepers to ascend them for the purpose
of shooting the deer; and advantage is taken of rocky scenery to
make caves for the same purpose. The keepers were also attended by a
bloodhound to chase any unfortunate deer that might be wounded without
being killed; but this is now also found unnecessary, as the herd drive
a wounded deer from them the moment it has been struck, and the only
use of the keeper's dog is to follow the deer in case it should take
to thick underwood and lie down there to die.
There are two other distinct species of deer, viz. the red deer and the
roe; but they are now seldom kept in parks in England. The _red deer_
is abundant in Scotland, and hunting it and shooting it with a rifle,
which last is called deer-stalking, are two favourite sports with the
Scotch landed proprietors. The male of the red deer is called a stag,
the female a hind, and the young a calf. The stag, when young, is
sometimes called a brocket, and when it is more than six years old it
is called a hart, and, if it belongs to a royal chase, a hart-royal. It
stands about four feet high from the shoulder, and one has been known
to weigh upwards of thirty stone when killed. The _roe_ is the smallest
of the deer kind, seldom standing more than two feet high, measuring
from the shoulder. It is very common in a wild state in Scotland,
particularly on the banks of Loch Lomond, but it is very seldom met
with in parks. The male of the roe is called a roebuck; the female, a
roe; and the young, a fawn; and these creatures do not live in herds
like the other deer, but in families of from ten to twenty each.
The natural process by which the horns of deer are renewed every year
is extremely curious, The time when the change takes place varies in
the different kinds of deer: those of the stag, and of the buck of the
fallow deer, fall off in spring, and are renewed in summer; but those
of the roebuck fall off in autumn, and are renewed in winter. Very soon
after the old horns fall off, a soft tumour appears which is covered
with a velvet-like down, and this downy skin remains on the horns as
they shoot upwards, and divide into antlers. The horns have at this
time a very singular appearance, as the soft downy skin with which they
are covered is completely intersected with blood-vessels which are
designed by nature to supply nourishment to the horns, and the furrows
formed by the largest of which may always be afterwards traced in the
horn itself. When the horns have attained their full growth, the velvet
skin with its blood-vessels begins to dry up; and the stags at this
season become very injurious to trees, as they are continually rubbing
their horns against the bark, in order to get rid of the skin, which
has become troublesome to them. It is a singular thing, that, though
stags shed their horns every year, the old horns are scarcely ever
found; and it is generally supposed that the animals bury them as soon
as they fall off. The horns grow with very great rapidity, and a pair
weighing twenty-five pounds have been known to be formed in ten weeks.
Deer are included in the beasts subject to the forest laws of England,
the others being the fox and the marten, and according to some the
wild boar; and there are certain laws still extant respecting these
beasts which are very curious, and which make it penal to kill them at
any but the proper seasons. Formerly, indeed, killing a deer unlawfully
was considered a more heinous offence than killing a man.
LETTER XV.
INHABITANTS OF THE POULTRY-YARD.--FOWLS, TURKEYS, GUINEA FOWLS, GEESE,
DUCKS, AND PIGEONS.--PEACOCKS AND HENS.--DISEASES OF POULTRY, AND THEIR
CURE.
My hints for teaching you how to enjoy a country life would be sadly
deficient if I were to omit poultry, as the duties of attending on them
are so completely feminine, that even in farm-houses they are entirely
under the care of females; and, indeed, few artists or authors would
think a picture of rural life complete, if they did not introduce into
it the image of a fair young girl feeding poultry. I have just been
reading a description of this kind in Miss Bremer's beautiful story
of _Strife and Peace_, and it has pleased me so much, and seems so
appropriate, that I cannot resist the temptation of quoting it.
"The morning was fresh and clear. The September sun shone brightly into
the valley; smoke rose from the cottages. The lady-mantles in whose
channelled cups clear pearls trembled, the silver weed with its yellow
flowers and silver-bright leaves, grew along a little footpath which
wound round the base of a moss-grown hill. It conducted to a spring of
the clearest water, which, after forming a little pond, led its silver
stream, dancing and murmuring, to the river. On this beautiful morning
Susanna approached the spring; and in her train came 'cock and hen, and
chicken small.' Before her waddled a troop of geese, gabbling noisily,
and all white but one--a grey one. The grey goose walked with a timid,
hesitating air, a little behind the others, compelled to retain this
position by a tyrant in the white flock, who drove him back with
outstretched neck and loud cry whenever he attempted to approach the
rest. None of the other geese concerned themselves about their ill-used
companion, but Susanna took it under her especial protection, and did
all in her power to console it for the injustice of its kind. After the
geese came the demure but clumsy ducks; the petulant turkey-cock, with
his awkward dames, one white and one black; and last, the turbulent
race of chickens, with their stately pugnacious cocks. The prettiest
of all the party were a flock of pigeons, who timidly, but confidently
at the same time, now alighted on Susanna's shoulder and outstretched
hand, and now rose in the air and flew in shining circles round her
head; then dropping to the earth, tripped on their little fringed feet,
to drink at the spring; while the geese, with loud noise, plunged
splashing into the river, and threw the water over the grass in a
pearly shower."
I must now, however, return from the region of poetry to plain matter
of fact.
Fowls should always be kept in a _poultry-yard_, or enclosed place
set apart for them, as, if allowed to be at liberty in gardens or
pleasure-grounds, they do a great deal of mischief by half-burying
themselves in newly-raked soil, to clean their feathers and get rid of
vermin; and by scratching up seeds, and even the roots of plants, in
their search after worms and insects. When circumstances allow, the
poultry-yard should be at least half an acre in extent, as fowls are
never well unless they are allowed abundance of room for exercise.
The usual form for a poultry-yard is a parallelogram, of which the
hen-houses form one end and a pond the other. The whole should be
surrounded by a strong fence of paling, and there should be a large
tree, or post with branches fixed in it, in the centre, with a heap of
calcareous earth near it.
The surface of the poultry-yard (fig. 14.) should be level; and about
one half of it should be laid down with gravel, but the lower part,
near the pond, should be grass, as, unless there is some kind of
herbage, there will be neither insects nor snails, and poultry require
some animal food to keep them in health. The tree in the centre should
have its branches deprived of their smaller spray, so that they may
afford good roosting-places for the pea fowl and guinea fowls, both of
which prefer roosting in the open air. The upper part of the yard which
is near the hen-house, and which is covered with gravel, ought to be
thoroughly well drained, so as to be as dry as possible; and the drains
ought to be so contrived as to carry off all the water used in washing
the hen-house, without suffering it to approach the pond. Where aquatic
fowls are kept, it is, indeed, a good plan for the other fowls to have
drinking-troughs near the hen-house, which should be filled with pure
water every day, and frequently and carefully cleaned out.
[Illustration: Fig. 14. _Poultry-yard._
_a_, Feeding-house, fitted up with boilers for cooking the food,
from which pipes extend on each side for heating the laying and
roosting-places.
_b_, Sitting-place for turkeys.
_c_, Roosting-place for turkeys.
_d_, Sitting-place for hens.
_e_, Roosting-place for hens.
_f_, Feeding-shed, laid with stone.
_g_, Open shed, laid with sand.
_h_, Open shed with roosts, for pea-fowls.
_i_, Pheasantry, or place for choice land fowls.
_k k_, Places for choice aquatic fowls.
_l_ and _m_, Sleeping and laying places for ducks.
_n_ and _o_, Sleeping and laying places for geese.
A pigeon-house may be erected at the lower part of the yard beyond
the pond, or one of the compartments marked _k_ may be fitted up for
pigeons.]
Besides the hen-house, there should be an open shed on each side of
the poultry-yard, extending as far as the part laid with gravel.
The ground under one of these sheds should be laid with the large
flag-stones called landing-stones, in order to have as few joints as
possible; and under the other shed the earth should be dug out to the
depth of a foot or more, and filled up with dry sand, to enable the
fowls to take what may be called a sand bath, which is the principal
means they have of getting rid of the body vermin with which they are
generally infested, and which are very troublesome to them. The shed
which has sand at the bottom may have bars under the roof, to serve
as an occasional roosting-place for pea-fowl and guinea-fowl; but the
one which has the flag-stones should have no bars across it, as the
stone floor is intended to serve as a place for feeding the fowls on,
and it should be kept as clean as possible. It is a good plan to lay
a few handfuls of unthreshed straw on this stone floor, in order that
the fowls may amuse themselves with scratching out the grains; and they
should always have a small heap of mortar, rubbish, or lime in one
corner for them to peck, as unless fowls can have access to lime, or to
some kind of calcareous earth, they will produce eggs without shells.
It is necessary to observe that land fowls are, generally speaking,
much more tender in constitution than aquatic ones. The common hens,
in particular, will never lay well unless they are kept warm; and, as
a proof of this, it is well known by every housekeeper that eggs are
much scarcer and dearer in winter than in summer. As the different
kinds of fowls require different treatment, it is necessary to keep
them separate, and it is also necessary to keep those hens that are
sitting separate from the rest. On this account the hen-house should be
divided into five compartments, the centre one of which (_a_) may be
much larger than the others, and furnished with a fireplace and boiler,
for boiling potatoes and other food, from which should run hot-water
pipes or flues, so contrived as to heat the whole of the compartments.
On one side of the central room may be a place for hen turkeys (_b_),
as it is necessary always to keep them by themselves when they are
inclined to sit; as, if the male turkeys see the eggs, they generally
contrive to break them. Beyond this should be the roosting-house for
the turkeys (_c_), provided with strong beams across, at a sufficient
distance from each other, to suit large and heavy birds.
[Illustration: Fig. 15. _Sitting-box._]
On the other side of the central room should be the compartment devoted
to laying and sitting hens (_d_) and this should be fitted up with
boxes (fig. 15.) which are made moveable, and placed not quite close
to each other, as it disturbs sitting hens to hear other hens close to
them. The front part of each box should be made to slide up and down,
so that it may be taken out, and the box thoroughly cleansed with a
brush and soap and water, when not in use. This sliding front, when
closed, has an arched opening in front for the hens to go in and out;
and this opening is made so as not to reach quite to the ground, in
order not only to keep the nest warm and in its proper place, but to
prevent any danger of the eggs being sucked by rats, or other similar
depredators. The hen-room should be frequently whitewashed, say twice a
year, care being taken to do it with as little disturbance to the fowls
as practicable; and the floor, which should be either of stone, or laid
with bricks, should be swept out every day, and washed occasionally
when the weather is warm and dry. It is a very good plan to have the
boxes raised with two pieces of wood below each, so as to leave a
hollow space in the middle below the box, as this plan allows the house
to be cleaned with greater facility.
[Illustration: Fig. 16. _Hen-roost._]