THE PATRIOT

Bay of Plenty Beacon, Volume 6, Issue 97, 10 August 1943, Page 2

THE PATRIOT

Smith is a keen golfer. When lie lived with us, he spent a lot of his spare time swiping golf balls all over the place. Quite often, he put a hot one over the hedge, into the fowl run. What puzzled Smithy was the fact that he was never able to find one of his missing balls,, however carefully he looked. Well, we had at that lime, an old black hen called Topsy. She hadn't laid an egg for months and months but we kept'her on, out of sentiment. holding that she. had done her bit, and was entitled to a spot of ease in the evening of her life. Topsy thought otherwise. (Slxe was one of those indomitable souls whom we all admire, but often fail to etixularle). The old hen believed in staying on the job, as long as. she could stand,, or crawl or sit. She also believed that she could lay eggs as Avell as any pullet, if she Avero given half a show. However, when she diffidently consulted the big rooster about the matter, the brute told her. in effect. that she ought to be ashamed of herself, at her time of life, and that it would suit her better to retire gracefully on a pensionSo that was that: but it occurred to Topsy, that if she couldn't lay eggs., she could certainly hatch them, and give all the others points at the job, too. So she tried to borrow" some eggs from the other hens, but they told her there was "nothing doing." Then, while Topsy was trying to think of another scheme, suddenly "plonk!" came Smithy's first golf ball, landing close beside lxex\ In a llash she pounced on that ball,, and streaked Avith it to the hedge, and when Smith arrived, the old bird | Avas busy making a nest in the clump of bamboo. Thereafter, Avhenever Topsy heard Smith playing golf, she used to patrol the yard, and she grabbed every ball that came over. When she had collected six or eight, she started to sit; and Avhat old Topsy didn't know about sitting would go in your, left eye, and you'd neA'er know it AA-as there. Well,, we saAV no more of the old hen. for sevexi Aveeiks., and then,* one morning,, she came staggering up to the hack door, Avlxat was left of her she Avas mostly skin and bone and feathers, and not. too many feathers at that. But her chin Avas up, and her eyes, alight, and a dinky little golf-bag hung from her neck; and Sticking out of the bag was a fine clutch of baby golf clubs. Topsy had done her bit!