ir mother spoiled
them.

Perhaps he was right, for the little Shanghais soon found out that they
were good-looking, and they wanted everybody in the poultry-yard to
notice their legs. It was very foolish, of course, to be proud of such
things, but when the other fowls said, "We should think you would be
cold without feathers on your legs," they answered, "Oh, we are
Shanghais, and our family never wear feathers there!" And that was true,
just as it is true that the Dorkings have extra toes, and that the Black
Spanish fowls have white ears.

The Shanghai mother was now roaming the fields with her brood, and there
was rich picking in the wheat-stubble. All the fowls were out of the
yard now, and would not be shut up until cold weather. Early in the
morning they would start out in parties of from six to a dozen, with a
Cock at the head of each. He chose the way in which they should go; he
watched the sky for Hawks, and if he saw one, gave a warning cry that
made the Hens hurry to him. The Cocks are the lords of the poultry-yard
and say how things shall be there; but when you see them leading the way
in the fields,--ah, then you know why all the fowls obey them.

The farmyard people still tell of the day when a Hawk swooped down on
one of the young Dorkings and would have carried him off if the Black
Spanish Cock had not jumped out, and pecked him and struck at him with
his spurs, and fought, until the Hawk was glad to hurry away. The Cocks
are not only brave--they are polite, too, and when they find food they
will not eat it until they have called the Hens to come and share with
them.

You can imagine what good times the Chickens had in the stubble-fields.
They were so old now that their down was all covered with feathers, and
some of them wondered if they couldn't feel their spurs growing. Still,
that was all nonsense, as a Bantam told them, because spurs do not start
until the fowl is a year old. They had long been too large to cuddle
under their mother's feathers at night, and had taken their first
lessons in roosting before they went to the stubble-fields. They had
learned to break up their own food, too, and that was a great help to
their mother. Fowls, you know, have no teeth, and no matter how big a
mouthful one takes he has to swallow it whole. The only way they can
help themselves is to break the pieces apart with their feet or peck
them apart with their bills before eating them.

The yellow grains of wheat