THE BANTY

Press, Volume CXVI, Issue 34130, 17 April 1976, Page 11

THE BANTY

LAVINIA DERWENT

One \of my best friends on the Border farm where I was brought up was a little brown bantam hen. The wee banty, 1 called her. Goodness knows what she called me; but she used to cluck-cluck at me as if she was telling me something. So I just cluck-clucked back She laid the smallest eggs you have ever seen — so small that they were lost in an ordinary egg-cup. But I had a special egg-cup. much larger than a thimble, just big enough to hold the banty’s egg. Everything about the wee banty was small. Except her courage. She was the bravest wee soul, and would even face up to the bubblyjock if he was chasing after me. And she looked so fierce with her wee wings outstretched and every feather bristling with rage, that even he — ihe great big bully — would turn and flee. Ihe same with her husband, the bantam cockerel. She would tell him off if he came pecking at my bare legs, and chase him round the farmyard til! he cried for mercy I always felt safe when the wee banty was beside me Mind you, it was not every day she condescended to lay an egg for my tea, and what a job 1 had to find it! Il was like playing hide and-seek, for the wee banty never laid in the heh-house. Not her. She found secret hid ing-places of her own Under the reaper in the cart-shed, in a corner o the byre, or by the sid* of a haystack. It was i great game try ng t< trace her movements.

Rut sometimes aftei laying an egg she woulr come peck-pecking at the kitchen door. •What’s that?” Jessie would say, listening with her head on one side. “It canna be the Posti' It’s no’ lood enough. It'l be that wee banty n yours. Ye'd better gam an’ find oot if she’s laic an egg.” So out I would go, an< the wee banty wouli strut away in front o me, clucking away to her self and looking bad now and again to see if was following. She would never tak me to the right place, bu near enough ft was a part of the game. Then one sad day th wee bant\ went missinf 1 searched high and lov for her and so did he husband, the bantan cockerel. In fact, we becam quite friendly in our ad versits and he stoppei chasing me now that hi wife was not there t defend me His heart wa broken and so was mine Indeed, for days I wer off my food and reluse all offers of big boile eggs. In any case, it wa not the eggs that ma tered I just wanted th wee banty back. I missed her so muc — and even the bubbly jock looked depressed I’ll never forget th wonderful sight I saw or: day when I was wandei ing disconsolately in th wood nearby. What w. that? A faint cluck-clucl mg sound. And there was the *<■ banty marching proud' at the head of procession — four of tf smallest chickens 1 hat ever set eyes on. It was one. of the ha 1 piest days of ntv hie. TI wee banty had con