“Some people talk as if folks was the only things with sense,” Jerry continued, “but seems to me they’ve got about the least. Why, you can’t lose a bird or a bee. And the orneriest little spider knows enough to play dead if you poke him. Inside he’s pretty near scared to death, but he’s got too much sense to cut and run the way a man would. He curls up his legs, and makes himself look withered up, so you’ll say, ‘Oh, shucks! he’s dead already. What’s the use of killing him over again?’”
Peggy’s smile proved her to be paying close attention, and Jerry went on. “Now, most folks think one bird’s as good as another. Why, there’s thieves and robbers among birds same as men. A blue-jay’s one of the worst, and my, how the other birds hate him! Once I saw a whole crowd of ’em chasing a jay. It was a reg’lar bird mob, all kinds in it, thrushes and cat-birds, and robins, and song-sparrows. They were all small birds ’longside of the jay, but together they were too much for him, I can tell you. And he dodged and ducked around till he see ’twasn’t no use, and then he dropped what he’d stole and they let him go.”
“And what had he stolen?” asked Peggy.
“A little bird just hatched out of some nest. You needn’t tell me that birds don’t have a language. The father and mother, they hollered to some of their neighbors that a jay was ’round kidnapping, and the chase started. And every bird they met, they’d say, ‘Come on, boys! Let’s make it hot for this old robber.’ And they did too.” Jerry caught himself up, and cast a suspicious glance at Peggy’s attentive face. He had early learned to keep to himself the dialogues he imagined as taking place between his friends of field and forest, as any attempts at confidence on his part had invariably called out derision or reproof. He was glad to assure himself that Peggy was listening respectfully, though he realized that her silence had lured him on to say much more than he had intended.
“Jerry,” remarked Peggy, breaking the brief pause that had fallen between them, “did you ever hear of Audubon?”
“What’s that? Do you mean the language for everybody to learn, so that Japs and Dagoes and us folks can talk together, same as if we’d been raised ’longside each other?”
“Oh, no! That’s Volapük you’re talking about, Jerry. Audubon was a man.”
“Oh!” Apparently Jerry had lost interest.
“And the reason I wondered if you knew about him is that sometimes you remind me of him.”
“Oh!” And the change in Jerry’s inflection showed the change in his mental attitude.