“Mother,” said the little boy one day, “do you know why the turkey buzzards are bald?”
“Why, no,” replied the young mother, very much surprised. “I didn’t even know they were bald. But why do you ask such a silly question?”
“Because Uncle Remus said you knew why they are bald.”
“You tell Uncle Remus,” said the grandmother, laughing heartily, “that I say he is an old rascal, and he had better behave himself.”
The way of it was this: The little boy had been walking out in the fields with Uncle Remus, and had seen, away up in the sky, two or three turkey buzzards floating lazily along on motionless wings. From the fields they had gone into the woods, and in these woods they had found what Uncle Remus had said was a buzzard’s nest. It was in a hollow tree, flat on the ground, and when they came near, the mother buzzard issued forth from the hollow, with such a hissing and flapping of wings that the little boy was frightened for a moment.
“Go on ’way fum here, you bald-headed ol’ rapscallion; ef you don’t I’ll do you wuss dan Brer Rabbit done you. Honey,” he went on, turning to the child, “you better put yo’ hankcher ter yo’ nose ef you gwineter look in dat nes’, kaze ol’ Miss Turkey Buzzard is a scandalious housekeeper.”
The child did as he was bid, and, peeping in the nest, he saw two young ones, as white as goslings. While he was peeping in he got a whiff of the odor of the buzzards, and turned and ran away from the place as hard as he could. Uncle Remus followed suit, and hobbled away as fast as his legs could carry him. When they were both out of range of the buzzard’s nest, they stopped and laughed at each other.
“You nee’nter be skeer’d dat anything’ll ketch you, honey. Dey ain’t nothin’ but a race-hoss got yo’ gait. Why, ef I hadn’t ’a’ been wid you, you’d ’a’ been home by now, kaze you’d ’a’ started when ol’ Miss Buzzard fus flew out er dat hole.”
The little boy made no denial, for he knew that what Uncle Remus said had much more than a grain of truth in it. Besides, he was thinking of other things just then. He soon made known what it was. “Why did you call the buzzard bald-headed, Uncle Remus?”
“A mighty good reason,” responded the old man. “Dey ain’t no mo’ got fedders on de top er der head dan you got ha’r in de pa’m er yo’ han’. You ketch one un um, an’ ef you kin hol’ yo’ breff long nuff ter look, you’ll see dat I’m tellin’ you de trufe. I ain’t blamin’ um fer dat, kaze dey got a mighty good reason fer bein’ bal’-headed. Dey’s mighty few folks dat know what de reason is, an’ one un um is yo’ ma. Ef you’ll kinder coax ’er, I speck she’ll tell you.”