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Updated: June 26, 2025
She has gone too far." And leaving Grumpy to find the rat hole without her help, Mrs. Hen fluttered across the henyard with her head thrust forward, to give her meddlesome neighbor a number of hard pecks and so teach her to mind her own affairs. With a low chuckle Grumpy Weasel slipped inside the henhouse, where he found himself quite alone.
He hated him, yet there wasn't a thing he could do about it. He didn't dare fight Old Man Coyote. All he could do was to sit there at a safe distance and watch. The gate of the henyard was open two or three inches. For a long time Old Man Coyote stood looking through that little opening.
Hen so much that she actually let a fat angleworm get away from her because she hadn't her mind on what she was doing. She noticed meanwhile that one of her neighbors was making frantic motions, as if she had something important to say. So Mrs. Hen sauntered across the henyard to find out what it was. "Don't you know whom you're talking to?" the neighbor demanded in a loud whisper.
That afternoon he drove over there, his heart filled with great hope. But he had his long ride for nothing, for when he got there he found that the strange dog was not Bowser at all. Meanwhile Old Man Coyote and Reddy Fox and Old Granny Fox had become very bold. They even came up around the henyard in broad daylight.
They are a different order utterly from hen-men, bee-keeping and chicken-raising being respectively the poetry and prose of country life, though there are some things to be said for the hen, deficient as the henyard is in euphony, rhythm, and tune.
"Why, the folks in Greensboro vie with each other to see who shall have the best-looking yard. Your mother hasn't many flowers " "Them dratted hens scratch up all the flowers I plant," sighed Aunt 'Mira. "I give up all hopes of havin' posies till Jason mends the henyard fence." "Now you say yourself the hens only lay when they're rangin' around, 'Mira," observed Uncle Jason, mildly. "Ya-as.
Always in the daytime he took the greatest care to see that the henyard gate was fastened, for no one knew better than he how bold Granny and Reddy Fox can be when they are very hungry, and in winter they are very apt to be very hungry most of the time.
Me, I think this dog very wise!" and Roberto's merriment broke out again, and he shook with it. "So I tell them I will not do dog's work, and then he, the man, chases me with his pitchfork, and the woman unloose the dog. Oh, yes! I make a great noise in the henyard. That dog chase me hard. So I got away as you see," he concluded. "Say! you're a cool one," declared Tom, with growing admiration.
He knew that he must make the most of that forlorn chance. He knew that freedom is a thousand times better than a full stomach. On one of the lower roosts sat a fat hen. She was within easy jumping distance. Reddy knew that with one quick spring she would be his. If the henyard gate had been open, he would have wasted no time in making that one quick spring.
"There's a little hole that the hens go in and out of during the day, which is big enough for one of us to slip through, I believe," said Granny thoughtfully. "Sure! But it's always closed at night," snapped Reddy. "Besides, to get to that or the door either, you have got to get inside the henyard, and there's a gate to that which we can't open."
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