Jack. Pray tell me, aunt Betsey, why the hen that has chickens always keeps clucking?
Aunt Betsey. So that the chickens may always know where she is. The chickens are continually running about, and sometimes they go to a considerable distance, but as the hen is always clucking, they can at any time find her. But for this they would inevitably get lost. If the Creator had forgotten to teach hens to cluck, and had neglected to make any other adequate provision, a brood of chickens could never have been raised.
J. Well, why do the chickens always keep peeping?
Aunt B. So that the hen may know where they are. You will observe that if two or three chickens are wandering together, away from the hen, their peeping is usually faint and low; but if one is straying alone, his tones are loud and distinct. They seem to feel confidence when several are together, but if one is alone, he feels that it is necessary to speak out. The clucking of the hen may be considered as continually calling to her scattered brood, “Here I am, chicks—here I am,” and the peeping of the chickens may be considered as saying, “Here I am, mother—here am I.” In this way, a communication is kept up even while the brood is scattered over a wide space, in search of food. Almost all birds have natural cries, which answer the same purposes with them, as the clucking of the hens and the peeping of the chickens with these.
J. Well, aunt Betsey, I observe that the old hen seems to talk to her chickens. If a wren or a sparrow, or any other little harmless bird flies by, the old hen says, “curr-r-r-r-r,” in a moderate tone, as much as to say “look out,” and so all the chicks just cast their eyes around and seem to take no notice of what has happened. But if a hawk appear in the air, and near by, the “curr-r-r-r-r” is uttered in a wilder key. The old hen steps high, and seeks a shelter, and the little chickens run to her as if frightened out of their little wits. Now, what I want to say is, how do the chickens, only two or three days old, know so much and understand so well what their mother means and says?
Aunt B. You might as well ask, Jack, how the chickens know so much as to pick up seeds and worms when only a day old. The seeming knowledge of these little creatures, which is often so wonderful, is to be explained, as we explain the skill of the bees in building their cells, and the ants in constructing their little cities in the earth—by instinct—a power or knowledge implanted by nature, or, in other words, by God, the author of nature. He gives those powers; and though we may see their effects, he only can explain their operation. But there is one thing in your observations upon the chickens, to which I wish to call your attention, Jack. Did you ever know the old hen to call to her chickens in danger, when they neglected or disobeyed the call?
J. No, not that I remember.
Aunt B. Let this, then, be a lesson to you, my boy. The little birds are taught obedience to their parents by God; and they obey. So God has taught children obedience, for he has said in the solemn commandment, “Honor thy father and thy mother;” and the apostle adds, “Children, obey your parents in the Lord, for this is right.” The hen, the parent of the chickens, is their guardian; she knows more than they do; she is stronger, and sees farther, and is wiser than they. It is best for the chickens, therefore, that they should obey her. Were they to neglect her counsel, they would be devoured by prowling beasts or birds of prey. The obedience, therefore, that they are called upon to exercise, is imposed for their good. And just so it is with respect to children; their parents have more experience, knowledge, and wisdom than they have; they know what is best for them. It is, therefore, for the true happiness of children that they should obey their parents.
