When quite a lad, and residing in a Western State, I often observed the farmers brought their poultry alive to market, preventing the escape of the fowls by tying their legs together. The fowls, whenever I saw them, were always quiet.
Prof. Czermak thought that the stretching out of the neck of the fowl caused, in some manner, a "slight mechanical extension of certain parts of the brain, . . . . apart from the fear which the animal experiences," etc.[1]
Now, since my last experiments I dispensed entirely with all "neck-stretching." Prof. Czermak's explanations do not tend to throw that light upon the subject which he believed they would; and we must look to Kircher for a fuller explanation of this phenomenon—that of the power of the imagination.
Those parts, then, which it has been said were necessary to touch for the success of the experiment, I have latterly entirely let alone.
I usually, after catching my fowl, hold it firmly upon the ground, floor, etc., as the case may be, until all struggling has ceased. Then I remove my hands, making-no "passes," nor any more movements than are necessary to take them away from the animal. Now I have the fowl stretched out before me motionless, and breathing deeply; the eyes are generally open. Some hens are more easily subjected to this experiment than others. Tame hens will allow much handling, and are hence never good subjects. A very wild fowl is an excellent animal upon which to make these experiments.
As in the cases instanced by Prof. Czermak, so I find different fowls must be differently treated. Some require to be held a shorter, some a longer time, than others. But this fact is evident, that the animal must be held firmly until perfectly quiet.
It was only the other day, while writing the above, I visited a neighbor's poultry-yard to verify still further my views upon this subject. After catching a huge Brahma cock, which I had great difficulty in holding, as he was very violent, I held him fast until he as well as I knew he could not escape, and then took away my hands. He lay just as quiet as though my hands were holding him. But his eyes were open and his head was somewhat raised from the ground. In this condition I placed him in his coop, where he remained in a most awkward position upon his side until a hen came along, and seemed to assure him of his liberty.
Thinking that the "stretching out of the neck and bill" had simply the effect of closing the animal's eyes, I held a duck firmly in one hand, and with the other threw my handkerchief over its head. The same phenomena resulted, but they were of shorter duration. I next treated a little bantam pullet in the same way; but, being a tame and gentle little creature, I could do almost anything with her. One singular feature was that, while upon her back, and the handkerchief over her
- ↑ Vide Popular Science Monthly, loc. cit.
