THE OLD SHANGHAI ROOSTER.
Much of Aunt Sarah's spare time was devoted to her chickens, which
fully repaid her for the care given them. She was not particular about
fancy stock, but had quite a variety--White Leghorns, Brown Leghorns,
big, fat, motherly old Brahma hens that had raised a brood of as many
as thirty-five little chicks at one time, a few snow-white, large
Plymouth Rocks and some gray Barred one. The _latter_ she _liked_
particularly because she said they were much, more talkative than any
of the others; they certainly did appear to chatter to her when she
fed them. She gave them clean, comfortable quarters, warm bran mash on
cold winter mornings, alternating with cracked corn and "scratch feed"
composed of a mixture of cracked corn, wheat and buckwheat, scattered
over a litter of dried leaves on the floor of the chicken house, so
they were obliged to work hard for their food.
[Illustration: Old Egg Basket]
A plentiful supply of fresh water was always at hand, as well as
cracked oyster shell. She also fed the chickens all scraps from the
table, cutting all meat scraps fine with an old pair of scissors hung
conveniently in the kitchen.
She was very successful with the little chicks hatched out when she
"set" a hen and the yield of eggs from her hens was usually greater
and the eggs larger in size than those of any of her neighbors. This I
attribute to her excellent care of them, generous diet, but
principally to the fact of the elimination of all the roosters among
the flock during the season between the "first of May and December
first," with one exception. "Brigham," an immensely large, old, red
Shanghai rooster, a most pompous and dignified old chap. A special pet
of Aunt Sarah's, she having raised him from a valuable "setting" of
eggs given her, and as the egg from which "Brigham," as he was called,
emerged, was the only one of the lot which proved fertile, he was
valued accordingly and given a longer lease of life than the other
roosters, and was usually either confined or allowed to roam outside
the chicken yard during the summer months; in the winter, being a
swift runner, he usually gobbled up two shares of food before the hens
arrived. That accounted for his great size. The old rooster was also
noted for his loud crowing.
One day in early Spring, John Landis came into the house hurriedly,
saying, "Sarah, your old Shanghai rooster is sick."
"Yes," answered his wife, "I missed hearing him crow this morning; he
is usually as regular as an alarm clock."
She hurried to the barnyard, picked up poor Brigham, wrapped him
carefully in a piece of blanket and laid him in a small shed. The next
morning she was awakened by the lusty crowing of Brigham, who was
apparently as well as ever. The next day the same thing happened. Aunt
Sarah found him, as she supposed, in a dying condition, and the
following morning he was fully recovered. It was quite puzzling until
one day John Landis came into the kitchen laughing heartily and said,
"Sarah, I am sorry to inform you of the intemperate habits of your
pet, Brigham. He is a most disreputable old fellow, and has a liking
for liquor. He has been eating some of the brandied cherries which
were thrown into the barnyard when the jug containing them was
accidentally broken at house cleaning time.
"Well, Sarah, old Brigham was not sick at all--only 'ingloriously'
drunk." In the fall of the same year Aunt Sarah spied Brigham one day
on top of one of the cider barrels in the shed busily engaged eating
the pummace which issued from the bung-hole of the barrel. John
Landis, on hearing of Brigham's last escapade, decided, as the rooster
was large as an ordinary-turkey, to serve him roasted at Mary's
wedding.
Fritz Schmidt remarked one day in the presence of Sibylla: "Chickens
must possess some little intelligence; they know enough to go to bed
early. Yes, and without an 'alarm clock,' too, Sibylla, eh?"
She walked away without a word to Fritz. The alarm clock was a sore
subject with her, and one about which she had nothing to say. Sibylla
had never quite forgiven Fritz for the prank played on her. He,
happening to hear John Landis tell Sibylla a certain hour he thought a
proper time for Jake Crouthamel to take his departure Sunday evenings,
Fritz conceived the brilliant (?) idea of setting the alarm clock to
"go off" quite early in the evening. He placed the clock at the head
of the stairs, and in the midst of an interesting conversation between
the lovers the alarm sounded with a loud, whizzing noise, which
naturally made quick-tempered Sibylla very angry. She said on seeing
Fritz the next morning: "It was not necessary to set the 'waker' to go
off, as I know enough to send 'Chake' home when it's time."
Fritz, happening to tell the story to the editor of a small German
Mennonite paper, edited in a near-by town, it was printed in that
paper in German, which caused Sibylla, on hearing it, to be still more
angry at the Professor's son.