The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1881-05-21
The Very Young Rooster.

l am rather young, to be sure, but
expect to outgrow that, and ought not
to be blamed for it.
My mother seems to think am too
young to know anything. She is al
ways telling me what to do, and what
not to do, as if /, seven weeks old, were
not able to take care of myself.
She is very excellent person, in
deed, but she is only hen. Hens, you
know, never can crow.
All the big ROSTERS in the yard crow.
l suppose it is because they eat corn. I
told my mother was going to eat corn
so l could crow. But she said l must
keep on eating curds and meal and wa
ter, just like any hen chicken, and the
Growing would come all right in time.
l thought she couldn't be expected to
know anything about Growing, so 1
made up my mind I'd try the corn.
| tried it-but didn't crow.
cb0bed.
turned over on my back with my
claws in the air, and didn't care for
awhile whether L ever crowed or not.
But got over it.
Then | thought I'd try roosting with
the big roosters, and see if that would
help me. My mother said I'd better
not, but of course she d say that.
1t was very hard work to climb up
beside them. 1t wasn't so nice there as
l thought it would be. 1t was cold,
and was all the time afraid of falling.
But showed up close to the rooster that
has the biggest red comb, and held on
as well as could.
Very early in the morning they all
Tapped their wings and crowed.
Then Tapped my wings-but l didn't
crow.
toppled over.
thought my neck was broken, but
at last | managed to crawl under my
mothers wing and get warm. l begin
to think she knows something, if she is
a hen. She can't help being one, and
never shall be so mean as to throw it up
to her.
But there is one thing I'm bound to
do. l shall not tell her, for she'd be
sure to make fuss. They always make
q fuss.
l am going to swim. My mother says
1 can't, but OF course that is because she
can't.
Look at those waggle-tail, waddling
ducllings, and those great squatty Cos
lings! If they can swim so well with
their fiabby feet, why can't |?
Look at my slender, nicely turned
claws, and my genteel figure. Do you
see what high-bred air have when L
turn my head, and how we'll my wings
are hungP When L walk through the
yard, they all turn to look at me, and
my cousin, young Brown Leghorn,
stiffens up his little snip of comb. and
says, "What vain young popinjay"
That's all envy, you see; nay comb is
au eighth of an inch higher than his.
But just wait till 1 show them all
what swimming is. shall walk quiet
ly down to the water (not with scram-
BILE and sputter like the ducklings),
and glide out with a graceful sweep,
while theya all stare at me and wish they
could do it so.
Well, have had a dreadful time.
When l got in the water, it was very
cold, but wasn't going to stop for
that. l began to swim, but somehow
it didn't work well. My legs didn't
seem to amount to anything, SO tried
my wings, and they went flap, flap
splash, splash! and 1 wished l was
somewhere else.
The ducks cried, 'swa-wa-wa --wa
-wack, wack, wack," and Mother
Goose said, "Garrr-arr," and l was
just going down, down, downtown
in the cold water, when Biddy came by
with dish of curds. She fished me
out with stick, and flung me ON the
bank to dry in the sunshine.
might have been drowned, and then
never should have learned to crow.
Isuppose l had better take my moth
er's advice yet for awhile. She really
knows great deal Qor hen).
What a pity she was not a rooster
Sydney DARE, IN Youths Companion.