The period at which the fowl was first domesticated is lost in obscurity. The early Greek writers mention it as a bird held from remote antiquity in high honour, and PeisthetÆrus says that it is called the Persian bird, and at one time reigned over that country. It is to the East, then, that we must look for the ancestors of the domestic fowl, although it is not known how the breed was introduced into Greece or the South of Europe. It may either have come through Northern India, or Persia, or have been introduced by Phoenician traders. It figured early on Greek and Roman coinage, and was carried in the public shows of those nations. It was dedicated by the ancients to Apollo, Mercury, Æsculapius, and Mars and the Romans, good judges in matters gastronomic, had already discovered that it was best when fattened and crammed in the dark. Probably the Phoenicians brought it to Britain when they came for tin; at any rate, it was here before the invasion of CÆsar, who tells us that the Britons abstained from tasting the hare, the cock, and the goose, although they bred them for pleasure—probably, in the case of the cock, for its fighting powers. As poultry have been found domesticated in widely different localities, among peoples having no communication with each other, and even in islands in the South Seas, which must have been cut off from communication with the mainland for vast periods of time, it is evident that their domestication must have taken place in the very earliest times, or that there was a natural fearlessness and a desire for man’s companionship on the part of the fowl that marked it out as specially adapted to be his servant and purveyor.

The hand of man has brought about many changes in the bird by the intermingling of species, by careful breeding to render accidental peculiarities permanent, and by other methods; by these a great variety of breeds have now been established differing widely from each other in size and plumage. The breed in general, doubtless, owes its popularity partially to its appearance and courage, but still more to the flavour of its flesh, its great power of increase, and to its productiveness in the matter of eggs. Other birds lay as many eggs as they desire to have offspring. The hen is less selfish, and will produce a vastly larger number of eggs than she is able to hatch. As the wild bird is not so prodigal, it can only be supposed that this fecundity in the matter of eggs is upon the part of the hen a proof of gratitude for the food she receives from man, a trait which, in itself, should place her high in man’s estimation.

While the cock is, above all things, a warrior, the hen is the type of the careful housewife and affectionate mother. Nothing can exceed the care and attention she bestows upon her young—feeding them, guarding them, and teaching them with constant attention, and with occasional chidings when disposed to wander from her. She is no gadabout, and her whole thoughts are centred upon her duty. But although so affectionate a mother and submissive a wife, the hen is mindful of her position as the spouse of a warrior; and as the wives of the knights of old would, on occasion, don armour, and in their husbands’ absence defend their castles, so the hen is ready, when danger threatens, to face boldly the dog or the hawk in defence of her children. Neither the cock nor his spouse possesses the power of singing, although they can utter a large variety of sounds, from the gentle cluck of contentment, the incessant talk by the mother to her children, and her triumphant announcement of the laying of an egg, to the cock’s bold challenge to battle—the latter being as unique a sound among birds as is the bray of the donkey among beasts.

Poets have, with their usual inaccuracy, been accustomed to associate the crowing of the cock with the dawning of morn. The neighbours of persons who keep fowls know better. Unfortunately, the cock appears to be entirely unaware that it is possible to have too much even of a good thing, and is ready at all hours of the day or night to lift up his voice in defiance of all or any within hearing, or to accept the most distant challenge borne upon the air. This constitutes a grave defect upon the part of the cock. Among human beings we are accustomed to consider the constant braggart to be a coward. No such suspicion can attach to the cock; but it is a pity that he cannot be brought to understand that it is useless to be uttering defiances at all times, when the interposition of a strong wire netting renders combat impossible.