When the Hen Turkey walked out of the shed with her family, the Hens in the next yard crowded to the fence to see them. The little White Plymouth Rocks could not understand for a long time why the Turkey Chicks should be so large. “It isn’t fair,” they said. “Those Turkey Chicks will be grown up long before we are!” They thought that to be grown up was the finest thing in the world.
The Hens were very friendly and chatted long about them, telling the fond mother how very slender their necks were and how neat their little feet looked, with the tiny webs coming half-way to the tips of their toes. “I am very glad for you,” said the Barred Plymouth Rock Hen. “I was sure that it would all come out right in the end. This Man takes excellent care of his poultry.”
After a while the Gobbler came strutting past. When he saw his children, he stood his feathers on end and dragged his wings on the ground. He was exceedingly angry, and would have liked it very well if they had been on his side of the fence.
“Ugly little things!” he said to their mother. “They will tag around after you all the rest of the summer.”
“Very well,” she replied. “I shall like to have them.”
“Silly—silly—silly!” said the Gobbler, as he strutted off.
The Hen Turkey’s sisters came walking slowly toward her. Both of them were sitting on eggs, and had left their nests for a few minutes to find food. Of course they could not make a long call. “I built in the edge of the woods after all,” said the one who had been so undecided. “I wanted you to know, but don’t tell anybody else, or the Gobbler may hear of it and find the nest.” Then she spoke of the ten Turkey Chicks and asked the other sister to notice how much they looked like their mother. After that they had to hurry back to their nests.
When the Hen Turkey called her Chicks to cuddle down for the night, she found four already in the shed, eating from the food-dish.
“I thought you were all outside with me,” she remarked. “Why did you come in here?”