The Abandoned Farmers: His Humorous Account of a Retreat from the City to the FarmCobb, Irvin S. (Irvin Shrewsbury)
General
The Abandoned Farmers: His Humorous Account of a Retreat from the City to the Farm
Cobb, Irvin S. (Irvin Shrewsbury)
Farms -- Recreational use -- United States -- Fiction; Humorous stories
It was enough almost to break one's heart to see a great broad-beamed,
full-busted husky hen promenading round the chicken run, eating her head
off, gadding with her sister idlers, wasting the precious golden hours
of daylight in idle social pursuits and at intervals saying to herself:
“Lay an egg? Well, I guess not! Why should I entail a strain on my
nervous system and deny myself the pleasures of the gay life for the
sake of these people? If they were able to pay four dollars for me,
sight unseen, they are sufficiently affluent to buy their own eggs. Am I
right? I'll say I am!”
You could look at her expression and tell what she was thinking. And
then when you went and made the rounds of the empty and untenanted nests
you knew that you had correctly fathomed the workings of her mind.
We tried every known argument on those hens in an effort to make them
see the error of their ways and the advantages of eggs. We administered
to them meat scraps and fresh carrots and rutabagas and sifted gravel
and ground-up oyster shells; the only result was to make them finicky
and particular regarding their diet. No longer were they satisfied with
the things we ate ourselves; no, they must have special dishes; they
wished to be pampered like invalids. We bought for them large quantities
of costly chick feed--compounds guaranteed to start the most confirmed
spinster hen to laying her head off.
So far as I might observe, this, too, was of no avail. The more
confirmed imbibers of the special dishes merely developed lumpy
dropsical figures and sat about in shady spots and brooded in a morbid
way as though they had heavy loads on their minds. We killed one of them
as a sacrifice to scientific investigation and cut her open, and lo, she
was burdened inside with half-developed yolks--a case, one might say, of
mislaid eggs.
In desperation I even thought of invoking the power of mental suggestion
on them. Possibly it might help to hang up a picture of a lady sturgeon
in the henhouse? Or would it avail to shoo them into a group and read
aloud to them the begat chapter in the Old Testament?
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account