Once, in this life, we raised chickens. We really weren’t farmers. In fact, we lived in the city, so this chicken adventure was new and exciting. A friend, handy with posts and wire, erected a pen of sorts and we had an old shed that became the nightly resting place for our little feathered family.
Lessons taught by those tiny-brained fowl live on even 30 years later. The following is one such lesson. Let’s call it: Authority as Taught by the Banty Hen.
Banty is defined as a short or small, often aggressive person…similar in character to the Bantam Hen. Calling someone a ‘Banty’ sounds like a rather light-hearted insult. For me, however, since the lesson she taught, being called a Banty would be a compliment. Here is her story.
At the grange store, and for several weeks after, all the chickens looked the same: little puff balls of yellow feathers. Gradually, however, the various breeds emerged. There were the red laying hens, the tall whites, and a beautiful and very loud rooster. Then I saw her one glorious morning. My Bantam Hem!
She was small and had a calico of feather camouflage with a darling white face. Her eyes were full of life with remarkable understanding for such a tiny brain.
I loved that little bird! When the day was over and it was time to get in the shed, Banty led the way and demanded obedience from all the rest. When three large eggs were destined for a future instead of the fry pan, it was Banty who spent her time warming them until birth.
Let me insert here a chicken truth. MOM eats first! In human life we might call this the ‘Pecking order.’ A hierarchy of authority emerged in our feathered family as soon the first handful of feed fell to the ground.
I scattered and tossed far the daily rations, yet still the pecking order remained. Those considered mom hens would eat BEFORE the lessers were allowed to peck, and anyone foolish enough to argue soon suffered loud and pointed discipline.
Three eggs, warmed by the faithful mom Banty, hatched and grew quickly into three very large whites. I marveled at the way she trained those large birds. At bedtime, she would cluck demanding instructions scurrying along behind them and flapping her arms to hurry them into obedience and the safety of the roost.
We kept the feed in a shed that had a ramp from the ground to the door. One morning I watched as my little Banty mom exercised her authority in an amazing display of keen intelligence.
On this particular day, I scattered hands full of grain as always and all gathered for breakfast. Rather startled by the angry scolding, I turned to see the three big whites hungrily pecking and my dear Banty in full-blown rage at the disrespect! The big whites ignored her chatter and continued eating.
Then this remarkable event: Banty looked at the three big children she had warmed and raised and began to march up the ramp. When she was at the appropriate height, she looked eye to eye with those three children and in no uncertain terms let them know they were totally out of line!
The three big whites got the message and stopped eating. In fact they even backed away from the grain a safe distance. Banty shook her little feathers, puffed out her chest and proudly marched down that ramp. Slowly and with profound class, Banty ate her breakfast. She didn’t rush it, but made her three big kids wait a good while as further punishment for their indiscretion.
Timidly they ate a late breakfast and obediently followed mom back into the yard.
There is a moral to this story coming up soon.
