v,.v,M.';itimu.>//f. Chores Chores speak of smaller things like pitching in to share the burden of every day. Fortunately for youngsters on the farm these activities were many and varied. Being the baby of the family, I usually had an older brother or two to take the lead in helping with the heavier things each day. Despite that, I even¬ tually participated in most of these tasks, none of which was ever a great burden. Attending the poultry was simple and interesting, especially in observing their foot-scratching technique when feed was scattered around them, all the while the rooster appearing so regal and pompous. The way the hens drank water and closed their eyes was particularly worthy of note. Our hen house was very neatly laid out with ample space for the two dozen or so laying birds we normally kept. Chickens raised for market were housed elsewhere. Gathering eggs from the four-shelf nest al¬ ways had an air of excitement in its never-failing aspect of discovery. Entry for the hens was by a two-foot square door on the side of the building to which a fairly steep ramp was attached. To provide traction, narrow strips of wood were tacked on across the little rampway and as darkness approached the hens entered there slowly one by one by carefully placing a foot on each of those little strips. For a time it was my job to close that small door each day at dark lest a fox or his substitute might dare to enter. Working around the pigs was usually reserved to Dad except for the cleaning of the pens on Saturday. Following the major update and new floor plan of our smaller barn in the