MAKING A PLACE FOR CHICKENS
Before the meal was over, I said, seriously, "Now, boys, there must be
no more hunting until I find out about the game-laws. They should be
obeyed, especially by sportsmen. I don't think that we are forbidden to
kill rabbits on our own place, particularly when they threaten to be
troublesome; and the hunt this morning was so unexpected that I did not
think of the law, which might be used to make us trouble. You killed
the other rabbits on this place, Junior?"
"Yes, sir, both of 'em."
"Well, hereafter you must look after hawks, and other enemies of
poultry. Especially do I hope you will never fire at our useful
song-birds. If boys throughout the country would band together to
protect game when out of season, they would soon have fine sport in the
autumn."
In the afternoon we let Winnie and Bobsey expend their energy in making
paths and lanes in every direction through the snow, which was melting
rapidly in the south wind. By three o'clock the rain began to fall, and
when darkness set in there was a gurgling sound of water on every side.
Our crackling fire made the warmth and comfort within seem tenfold more
cheery.
A hearty supper, prepared in our own kitchen, made us feel that our
home machinery had fairly started, and we knew that it would run more
and more smoothly. March was keeping up its bad name for storm and
change. The wind was again roaring, but laden now with rain, and in
gusty sheets the heavy drops dashed against the windows. But our old
house kept us dry and safe, although it rocked a little in the blasts.
They soon proved a lullaby for our second night at home.
After breakfast the following morning, with Merton, Winnie, and Bobsey,
I started out to see if any damage had been done. The sky was still
clouded, but the rain had ceased. Our rubber boots served us well, for
the earth was like an over-full sponge, while down every little incline
and hollow a stream was murmuring.
The old barn showed the need of a good many nails to be driven here and
there, and a deal of mending. Then it would answer for corn-stalks and
other coarse fodder. The new barn had been fairly built, and the
interior was dry. It still contained as much hay as would be needed for
the keeping of a horse and cow until the new crop should be harvested.
"Papa," cried Winnie, "where is the chicken place?"
"That is one of the questions we must settle at once," I replied. "As
we were coming out I saw an old coop in the orchard. We'll go and look
at it."
It was indeed old and leaky, and had poultry been there the previous
night they would have been half drowned on their perches. "This might
do for a summer cottage for your chickens, Winnie," I continued, "but
never for a winter house. Let us go back to the barn, for I think I
remember a place that will just suit, with some changes."
Now the new barn had been built on a hillside, and had an ample
basement, from which a room extending well into the bank had been
partitioned, thus promising all one could desire as a cellar for apples
and roots. The entrance to this basement faced the east, and on each
side of it was a window. To the right of the entrance were two
cow-stalls, and to the left was an open space half full of mouldy
corn-stalks and other rubbish.
"See here, Winnie and Merton," I said, after a little examination, "I
think we could clear out this space on the left, partition it off, make
a door, and keep the chickens here. After that window is washed, a good
deal of sunlight can come in. I've read that in cold weather poultry
need warmth and light, and must be kept dry. Here we can secure all
these conditions. Having a home for ourselves, suppose we set to work
to make a home for the chickens."
This idea delighted Winnie, and pleased Merton almost as much as
hunting rabbits. "Now," I resumed, "we will go to the house and get
what we need for the work."
"Winifred," I said to my wife, "can you let Winnie have a small pail of
hot water and some old rags?"
"What are you up to now?"
"You know all about cleaning house; we are going to clean barn, and
make a place for Winnie's chickens. There is a window in their future
bedroom--roost-room I suppose I should call it--that looks as if it had
never been washed, and to get off the dust of years will be Winnie's
task, while Merton, Bobsey, and I create an interior that should
satisfy a knowing hen. We'll make nests, too, children, that will
suggest to the biddies that they should proceed at once to business."
"But where are the chickens to come from?" my wife asked, as she gave
the pan to Merton to carry for his sister.
"Oh, John Jones will put me in the way of getting them soon;" and we
started out to our morning's work. Mousie looked after us wistfully,
but her mother soon found light tasks for her, and she too felt that
she was helping. "Remember, Mousie," I said, in parting, "that I have
three helpers, and surely mamma needs one;" and she was content.
Merton at first was for pitching all the old corn-stalks out into the
yard, but I said: "That won't do. We shall need a cow as well as
chickens, and these stalks must be kept dry for her bedding. We'll pile
them up in the inner empty stall. You can help at that, Bobsey;" and we
set to work.
Under Winnie's quick hands more and more light came through the window.
With a fork I lifted and shook up the stalks, and the boys carried them
to the empty stall. At last we came to rubbish that was so damp and
decayed that it would be of no service indoors, so we placed it on a
barrow and I wheeled it out to one corner of the yard. At last we came
down to a hard earth floor, and with a hoe this was cleared and made
smooth.
"Merton," I said, "I saw an old broom upstairs. Run and get it, and
we'll brush down the cobwebs and sweep out, and then we shall be ready
to see about the partition."