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