Evelyn stood and looked on, her eyes fairly sparkling with delight. She picked up several of the little fellows, who seemed to be used to being handled. They behaved, of course, like all little pet pigs.
"Oh, what a sight!" she exclaimed. "How I do wish mother could see it."
"And Mary, too," added Terry.
"Yes, for she, too, is very fond of pigs and chickens, and milch cows."
When the little pigs couldn't drink any more buttermilk they were driven back into the lot where the sows were, and then the big pans were shoved in so that the sows could drink the balance. Then they showed Evelyn where the ducks and geese were kept.
"Why in the world don't you let them run out and graze? Don't you know that ducks and geese live on grass just like cows and horses?"
"Yes, but we haven't arranged for that yet. These ducks and geese were bought by Jack, while we were up in New York and there is such a wide range that he has been afraid, to turn them out to go where they please. Then, the coyotes, too, are very fond of ducks and geese. A chicken can rise on the wing and get away, but fat ducks and geese can be caught before they can flap their wings three times. We will gradually build a wire mesh fence and turn them out so they will be protected from the coyotes and foxes."
After that Evelyn took a look at the dairy house. It had been built in first-class style by an experienced dairyman, and was large enough to manage the products of fifty cows if necessary, and Fred made the remark that he hoped to some day have that many Jersey cows on hand.
"Sister," put in Terry, "it won't cost a dollar a month more out here to keep a dozen milch cows than it would cost to keep a half dozen, for they can feed on the grass all day long, and at the present season the grass is very full of milk, and there are two of these cows whose yield of milk is so abundant that it is necessary to milk them at noon."
"Brother," she asked, "how is the grass in the winter? Does it dry up and turn brown like the grass in Colorado?"