broken from the
sun, 'at balled an' cooled flyin' through space until the force o'
gravity caught an' held it, it doesn't prove what the sun broke from,
or why it balled an' didn't cool. Sky over your head, earth under
foot, trees around you, an' river there--all full o' life 'at you ain't
no mortal right to touch, 'cos God made it, an' it's His! Course, I
know 'at He said distinct 'at man was to have `dominion over the beasts
o' the field, an' the fowls o' the air' An' that means 'at you're free
to smash a copperhead instead of letting it sting you. Means 'at you
better shoot a wolf than to let it carry off your lambs. Means, at
it's right to kill a hawk an' save your chickens; but God knows 'at
shootin' a redbird just to see the feathers fly isn't having dominion
over anything; it's jest makin' a plumb beast o' YERSELF. Passes me,
how you can face up to the Almighty, an' draw a bead on a thing like
that! Takes more gall'n I got!

"God never made anything prettier 'an that bird, an' He must a-been
mighty proud o' the job. Jest cast your eyes on it there! Ever see
anything so runnin' over with dainty, pretty, coaxin' ways? Little red
creatures, full o' hist'ry, too! Ever think o' that? Last year's bird,
hatched hereabout, like as not. Went South for winter, an' made
friends 'at's been feedin', an' teachin' it to TRUST mankind. Back
this spring in a night, an' struck that sumac over a month ago. Broke
me all up first time I ever set eyes on it.

"Biggest reddest redbird I ever saw; an' jest a master hand at king's
English! Talk plain as you can! Don't know what he said down South,
but you can bank on it, it was sumpin' pretty fine. When he settled
here, he was discoursin' on the weather, an' he talked it out about
proper. He'd say, `Wet year! Wet year!' jest like that! He got the
`wet' jest as good as I can, an', if he drawed the `ye-ar' out a
little, still any blockhead could a-told what he was sayin', an' in a
voice pretty an' clear as a bell. Then he got love-sick, an' begged
for comp'ny until he broke me all up. An' if I'd a-been a hen redbird
I wouldn't a-been so long comin'. Had me pulverized in less'n no time!
Then a little hen comes 'long, an' stops with him; an' 'twas like an
organ playin' prayers to hear him tell her how he loved her. Now
they've got a nest full o' the cunningest little topknot babies, an'
he's splittin' the echoes, calling for the whole neighbourhood to come
see 'em, he's