And personally, just as a matter of taste, would she not prefer wee, round, glancing heads, and pointed beaks, peeping from under her wings, to these teaspoon-shaped things larger than her own?
I wonder! We are training fourteen large young chickens to sit on the perches in their new house, instead of huddling together on the floor as has been their habit, because we discover rat-holes under the wire flooring occasionally, and fear that toes may be bitten.

At nine o'clock Phoebe and I lift the chickens one by one, and, as it were, glue them to their perches, squawking.

Three nights have we gone patiently through with this performance, but they have not learned the lesson.

The ducks and geese are, however, greatly improved by the application of advanced educational methods, and the _regime_ of perfect order and system instituted by Me begins to show results.
{One can always be a Goose Girl: p53.jpg} There is no more violent splashing and pebbling, racing, chasing, separating.

The pole, indeed, still has to be produced, but at the first majestic wave of my hand they scuttle toward the shore.