native of Southern Asia, a realm in fact in which the
species of the group attain an uncommonly rich development. The creature
appears to have been domesticated some thousands of years ago, but has
undergone no considerable changes in its experience with man. It has in
truth not been completely tamed. It does not willingly remain near the
dwellings of man, but prefers to abide apart, only resorting to the home
when in need of food. It is very intolerant of the other barnyard
creatures, and often becomes possessed of a kind of mania for slaying
their young, not for food but from pure spirit of mischief.

Intellectually speaking, the peacocks are much below the cocks and
hens; although they flock together, their sympathies do not seem
quick; their cries and calls do not number a fifth part of those which
we hear from our chickens, and their notes are prevailingly very
discordant. Their cry of defiance, answering to the crow of the cock,
is one of the rudest and least sympathetic sounds which is heard among
the birds. Its only merit is that it can be heard very far. It is
readily audible at the distance of a mile when it breaks the stillness
of a summer night. At present the bird seems out of favor. At best it
is a beautiful but annoying ornament to pleasure-grounds. It is
likely, indeed, that it may in time become limited to its native
wildernesses and to zoological gardens.

From Africa we have derived one rather uncommon tenant of our barnyards
and fields, the guinea-hen. This creature, though of convenient size,
hardy, and commendable from the number of eggs it lays, has never won a
large place in the esteem of our rural people, and is now not much kept,
except in some parts of the Southern States of this country. The
difficulty with this creature, as with the peacock, is that it is not
truly domesticated; though it will not betake itself altogether to
the woods, it prefers to maintain a half-wild habit. It will not, if
it can possibly avoid it, lay its eggs in any place where they are
likely to be found by man. Moreover, their rude and little-modulated
cries are in the summer season almost incessant, and the din which a
considerable flock can produce is exceedingly vexatious. They thus do
not fit the needs or comfort of man to the degree which is likely to
give them a permanent place among his associates.

[Illustration: The Domesticated Turkey]

The last considerable addition to our barnyards has come to us in th