Green-Mountain freeman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1844-1884, 1871-03-29
The Fowls of New England,
A NOISY AssENIRLAGE.

At Worcester, Mass, there Is now hold
ing the seventh annual exhibition of the
New England Poultry Club 1t is a noisy
affair. Horticultural Hall says the SPY
is filled half wav to the ceiling with hen
residences. and from there up with sound
crows direct, and echoes of crows, COB
bles stfed and gobbles unrestrained. The
coops are arranged in avenues eight av-
enues, thickly populated, and the residents
always at home. No family in the whole
feathered city knows enough to keep quiet
but the ducks, and we half suspect that
their silence Is owing more to sheer lazi-
ness than anything else. Oh yes, there
is another household that keeps quiet
the dear little doves the nice little pig
cons the amiable little cheats that pinch
each other with all the spite of a sour
tempered old setting hen, but never squawk
and consequently maintain the reputation
Of being the most peaceable little birds
that ever engaged in oiive-branch trans
portation and love-letter carrying.
About the real hens, its hard TO tell
There are " lots Of en- in the hall
Brahmas. Black Spanish, Houdans, In cal
leo dresses, Creve Couers, Sultans with
heads like snow balls laundering big Buff
Cochins, and, in fact, every breed that
ever had a name, and some without
Speaking of hens: Gentle reader, did
YOU ever see q "a Rumpless hen; if not
hasten to Horticultural Hall Showing your
ticket to the doorkeeper as a matter of
policy when you pass in,) file right, aud
come to q halt before the third or fourth
coop on the east side of the house, prepare
your nerves for the shock, and then gaze
on the homehest hens and roosters that
were ever permitted to attend poultry
show The front view Is all right, and,
strange as it may seem, you can detect in
the open expression of countenance no
trace of modification or sadness at being
cursed forever (and their childrens chill
dren) to wander about without a tail, that
ornament Of which the peacock not alone
is vain. The truth not 10 wickedly sti-
fe," we rise to explain that the rear
end of a rumpless hen slopes off as smooth
as the pate of bald-headed idiot
In the west ante-rOOm, IN company with
other "cbeap labor" were two heathenChi-
nese geese, with bumps on their heads
ike ornamental gourds, and voices resem-
bling thousand pairs of new cowhide
boots walking in concert up the uncarpeted
aises Of a country church, while thou
sand ungreased OK carts were passing
outside. For what these * critters " were
peculiar, we have not the remotest idea.
Of all the fowls in this world that we
should think according to early teaching,
would delight in the pomp and splendor
of poultry show, the peacock would be
the one; but here we see one of these sty-
lish birds, with a gorgeous tail, boxed up
away at the farther end of the hall, with
as little chance of displaying its superior
dress as the much-abused Cinderella had
of going to the ball, and with its crowning
glory hanging back over the neighboring
coops, as useless and as much out of place
as a trailing skirt at a cotillon party. 1t
is quite likely, however, that this obscuri-
ty will not continue, and doubtless the man
ayers of the show will give this vain bird
an opportunity when, in the midst of their
numerous duties, they find time.
Some people have so many irons in the
fire, and so many jobs on hand that they
are anxious to do, that they stand around
in bewilderment, doing nothing. Well,
that's just the predicament in which we
find a mocking-bird at the upper end of
the hall, listening to the countless voices
all about him, and doubtless capable of
great feats of imitation under ordinary
circumstances, but completely nonplussed
at the multiplicity and rapid succession
of notes; therefore he sits on the perch
and looks at the visitors In way that
scenes to say: Please don't notice me
at all it's all mistake; I'm not a mock
ing-bird, and of no consequence whatever.
Call me a-a-crow, buzzard-anything
but don't call me mocking-bird.