Kfacres, Here is an article from the mid to late 1800's that is really puts a stamp on heritage, long but well worth the read. John
The Fanciers' journal and poultry exchange 1875
GOSSIP WITH AN OLD FARMER. We chanced upon a sterling old-fashioned farmer, not long ago, who interested us in a pleasant chat of an hour or two upon the subject of poultry keeping, as he viewed it. Many of this worthy man's ideas were good, and though not altogether novel, will be appreciated by the large class of his brother farmers, who, we are happy to say, are subscribers and readers of the' Journal. " I've bred chickens to a considerable extent for over forty year," he said, pointing away across his garden-patch to a large flock of very good looking barn-yard fowls;" and yender's the kind I've kept on the place, year in an' year out, for a'most half a century." " What breeds do you fancy, as best for your purposes ? " we enquired, walking over towards his collection, in the open field. " Ah, yes," he returned. " I know this is your hobby. I read the poultry papers. Been a subscriber to the FANCiErs' Journal two years. I like your paper. It contains a deal of good sound instruction and information on fowl matters, always. But I'm ou'y a plain farmer, not a " fancier," as you term it." "You have got a nice lot of birds here, nevertheless," we suggested, upon reaching a point where they could be seen. " Bred on the place, sir," he continued. " It comes out o' good old-fashioned stock, raised in Massachusetts long afore / begun with it." " The Dominiques prevail here," we said, looking the flock over. " Well, that is what some call 'em, I know. But we never minded much about names for our fowls. We think them very good for every-day uses, and we only know they are of the race long ago designated as " The old gray hens with yellow legs. That lay its owner many eggs." "You've heerd o' that breed, of course? It's a good 'un. Eggs are what we farmers go for. An' the chickens are very good eatin,' as well. We raise a great many, eat all we want, and dispose of a hundred or two in the fall, to a fair proflt in market, without looking for "fancy" prices, o' course." " They are in very thrifty condition, and are quite uniform in color for the most part," we suggested. " You take good care of them, evidently." " Yes, we do. What's the use o' keepin' live creeturs about a farm, except with an eye to profit, more or less ? " "You are correct, sir." " And you can't keep 'em so, 'nless you do take good keer of 'em." " That is so," we agreed. " Now we don't bother .about the fancy or new-fangled breeds much. We are satisfied with our own. I go to the chicken shows, sometimes. They are very interesting exhibitions. An' I see and hear a great deal there about this an' that foreign breed. But I come home, look our flocks over, an' say to myself' let well enough alone, old boy. You're on'y a farmer.' The Cochins, an' Shangees, an Bramies, an' Spanglers, an' Derbies, an' so on are all well enough for them that likes novelties. We are content with ours, for the purposes we breed 'em." ^Vhat are these ? " was our next inquiry, noticing a dozen or two smallish, dark brown, duck-legged fowl amongst the rest. "Ah, them's the birds for eggs, sir. We call 'em Creepers. That's all the name we've ever had for 'em, to distinguish them from the longer-legged chickens." " And they are prolific, you say ? " " Excellent layers, an' the best mothers, for hatchin, on the place, sir." " And you have never tried the introduction of Asiatic or other foreign blood among them 1 " " No! What do we want o' that, here ? " " It increases the size and weight, for age " " Yes, very likely. We havn't tried it. That may be desirable. But we've got in the Creepers the best o' sitters and mothers. In the Grays, we've got layers that can't be beat easy, take 'em the year throughand they don't plague us with broodiness." " But the fresh blood will tend to increase the size of your fowls, and this gives you more marketable meat, in a given time, at about the same cost." " It m;iy be," said our agricultural friend. " I don't dispute that. But I'm old-fashioned in my notions, I s'p'ose. I know what I've got, now. An' though I notice the experiments, as you print 'em, an' often hear how well some poultryraen do with the new-fangled breeds, I don't care to run no risks. Mine are good enough, an' they breed regular enough, for my use. We set from fifteen to twenty o' the " Creepers " every year. We get out a hunderd an' fifty chickens, may be. Some years more. From an average of fifty layin' hens we obtain six hunderd dozen eggswhich we send to market, at about a quarter of a dollar a dozen. Then we eat a good many eggs, and have plenty of poultry on our table, besides the increase of stock killed off annually in the fall." " And this pays you well? " " Satisfactory. But, though it isn't a large operation, it helps, you see. An' it's more profitable than pork or sheep in proportion to cost, care and feed. How do you like my birds, sir ? " he concluded, pleasantly. " They show good care, they are in excellent thrift, and there is strong evidence of Dominique blood amongst them," we sug. gested. " This is one of our best American varieties, and is a very popular race. The new " Plymouth Rocks " are made up in part from this blood and they are becoming very notable among fanciers of good stock." "Yes, I've seen 'em. The Plymouth Rocks are a'most exactly like our Grays, or Dominicks, as you call 'em. On'y they have dark legs, often. An' in market the yellow leg is what is preferred. The Plymouth Rocks are good, I reck'n. But still the old gentleman favored his own. They were cross bred but a splendid lot of common fowl. And he takes pride in caring for them as poultry should be attended to. After an examination of his stock and premises, and his mode of raising fowls for eggs and marketing purposes, we left him, satisfied that he understood his business, and that his " Grays" and " Creepers " though emphatically old-styled, were very good birds for this farmers' uses. When is a schoolboy like a postage stamp? When he gets licked and put in a comer to stick to his letters.