My siblings and I had many pets while growing up ; however, they usually served a dual purpose. A child's pet today; in the frying pan tomorrow.

A pet pig was eventually going to become bacon, ham, sausage, etc;. The old red rooster was cute and sweet as a small chicken but one day he ended up in a pot of chicken and dumplings. Old Banty was never in danger for two reasons. She wasn't big enough to flavor the pot and such a wonderful little mother with her baby chicks.

Let me relate the history of this little hen. Our Aunt, Arlene Landrum had Bantam hens and a Blue Andalusian rooster. She gave my brother, Roy some eggs to put under one of Mama's hens. When the eggs hatched, Roy chose this little smoky, blue-grey chick to keep as a pet. You cannot believe how spoiled this chicken soon became and recognized her name in a very short time. She was special to the entire family but Roy would fight at the drop of a hat over his chicken. We would catch grasshoppers, crickets, and grubworms and feed her until her little craw would be stuffed.

Roy seemed to understand Old Banty"s language; when she reached the age to begin laying eggs, do you think she hopped into a nest box like the other hens? No! That was beneath her dignity. She squawked and carried on something terrible! Finally she fluttered to the middle of our bed and plucked at the sheet with her beak. Roy thought she wanted a nest of sorts so he fluffed a towel around her to fashion a nest and there she perched like a little queen on her throne. After a few minutes, she announced the news , fluttered down and out the door. Roy had the egg for breakfast the next morning. This continued all her life. She was well-mannered; never did she use the bathroom in the house.

Old Banty was a champion at motherhood. She would fluff her feathers out and cover fifteen eggs; hatching every one of them. Most always, all fifteen would reach adulthood because of her excellent care. That little hen was fearless when her babies were threatened. She would square off with a chicken snake, dog, cat, possum; sailing on their back, she would peck their heads, beat at them with her wings , all the while, making a terrible sound, finally they would turn tail and run away. What she lacked in size, she made up for it in courage and true grit. She did not know she was a chicken; I think she believed herself to be human.

Once, when my brother Roy felt strongly he had been wronged by a parent, a quick decision was made to leave home. Grabbing his other shirt and pair of breeches, off he started. Pausing at the gate, he asked," Sis, will you take care of Old Banty for me? She is due to hatch her babies in a couple of days." I didn't want him to leave so I thought by refusing, he would stay. I replied, "No, I won't. If you want her cared for, stay and do it yourself." He went on but came back in a couple of hours. I loved that little hen and would have taken care of her but I guess he thought I wouldn't.

Banty never laid a double-yoked egg but every now and then she would lay twice in one day. Around nine in the morning she would come in and lay and then come back around three and lay another egg. Mama said she would skip the following day but she never did.

The years flew by and I guess we thought Old Banty would live forever . The last years of her life were spent in all the comfort we could give. She no longer layed eggs or hatched biddies. She was slow in catching bugs and crickets so we did it for her.

Roy was in the 82nd Airborne Division in Korea when his beloved little hen died of old age. We wrapped her in a soft piece of material and used a shoe box for her casket.

Rest in peace, Old Banty. there will never be another one quite like you.