Miranda and the Setting Hen

By Elton Camp (This is another in the series about life in the rural South during the early 20th Century. Miranda is my grandmother. This incident is the only thing my father remembered about his mother except for seeing her lying dead after yet another childbirth.) A small shed served as the chicken house. Box-like nests, lined with straw, were attached along the interior wall. When a hen produced an egg, she generally announced the feat by leaving the nest and cackling loudly for several minutes. Miranda, or one of her daughters, checked each nest in the late afternoon. It might contain a few eggs, or perhaps only one. If newly laid, the egg felt warm. The egggatherer transferred the smallish brown-shelled eggs to her apron which she folded and held carefully so as not to let any slip to the ground. Most of the interior of the chicken house was occupied by rows of rough poles mounted horizontally. These served as roosts. A thick layer of multicolored droppings littered the dirt floor. An ammonia-like stench pervaded. Lacking receptors for night vision, chickens sought the roost as soon as evening light began to fade. This is the origin of the expression Goin t bed wif th chickns to describe humans who retire early. Dont ferget t go out thar n shet up th chicken coop afore plumb black dark, Milas said to no one in particular. Theyll b goin t roost direckly. A plank door and crude shutters over windows were always closed at night. A secure henhouse was an essential protection against varmints. A fox or weasel that found an unprotected flock might destroy them all in a single raid. That was a devastating loss for a farm family. Chicks werent purchased from a hatchery, but brooded by hens. The farm family set aside eggs for the purpose. With the short life span of a chicken, a continuous flow of replacements was needed. A dozen eggs were normally placed under a setting hen. On occasion, thirteen chicks appeared. Double yolk eggs were the cause. More frequently, one or more of the eggs failed to develop a chick or the fledgling died soon after hatching. The mother hen paid careful attention to her chicks. At two-second intervals, she clucked to keep her brood under control. If she saw danger, a different cluck, combined with lifted wings, caused them to rush underneath for protection. Anyone who approached her chicks could expect to be flogged and pecked. A mother hen was a formidable force.

Setting hens not given eggs to hatch sometimes rebelled. An occasional hen would steal a nest by laying eggs in some secret place outside the coop. Her treacherous action became known only when she emerged from hiding with a group of cheeping chicks following her. Even if a hen didnt hatch a brood, shed sometimes begin to emit clucks as if she had chicks to supervise. Even more importantly, she stopped laying eggs. Since she must be fed, but produced nothing, she was either broke from setting or killed. Breaking a setting hen could be difficult. Go fetch me a dry shuck from th crib, Miranda told Leamon. Then ketch me thet thar settin hen. The woman tied the shuck to the long tail feathers of the squawking bird and tossed her to the ground. As she fled in indignation, the shuck dragged along the ground. It created a rustle that caused the hen to flee in panic at a noise whose source she couldnt identify. When tired, she stopped. Her next move caused the frightening sound to start again. Caught in a cycle, the hen ran until she lay on the ground and panted in exhaustion. Her eyes seemed to turn white every few seconds as she flicked her protective third eyelid. Miranda seldom laughed. Somehow, the hens dilemma struck her as funny. She laughed anew each time the hen struggled to her feet and renewed the alarming rustle of the shuck. When the cruel, but necessary purging ended, Miranda untied the shuck, but still chuckled quietly. Such moments of mirth were rare.