Mr. Hawk and Brother Buzzard

One night the little boy ran into Uncle Remus's cabin singing:

"_T-u Turkey, t-u Ti,

T-u Turkey Buzzard's eye!_"

Uncle Remus, Daddy Jack, Aunt Tempy, and 'Tildy were all sitting around

the fire, for the Christmas weather was beginning to make itself rather

severely felt. As they made room for the child, Daddy Jack flung his

head back, and took up the song, beating time with his foot:

"'_T-u Tukry, t-u Ti,

T-u Tukry-Buzzud y-eye!

T-u Tukry, t-u Ting,

T-u Tukry-Buzzud wing!_"

"Deyer mighty kuse creeturs," said 'Tildy, who was sitting rather nearer

to Daddy Jack than had been her custom,--a fact to which Aunt Tempy had

already called the attention of Uncle Remus by a motion of her head,

causing the old man to smile a smile as broad as it was wise. "Deyer

mighty kuse, an' I'm fear'd un um," 'Tildy went on. "Dey looks so

lonesome hit makes me have de creeps fer ter look at um."

"Dey no hu't-a you," said Daddy Jack, soothingly. "You flut you' han'

toze um dey fly 'way fum dey-dey."

"I dunno 'bout dat," said 'Tildy. "Deyer bal'-headed, en dat w'at make

me 'spize um."

Daddy Jack rubbed the bald place on his head with such a comical air

that even 'Tildy laughed. The old African retained his good-humor.

"You watch dem Buzzud," he said after awhile, addressing himself

particularly to the little boy. "'E fly high, 'e fly low, 'e fly 'way

'roun'. Rain come, 'e flup 'e wings, 'e light 'pon dead pine. Rain

fall, 'e hug 'ese'f wit' 'e wing, 'e scrooge 'e neck up. Rain come, win'

blow, da Buzzud bin-a look ragged. Da Buzzud bin-a wink 'e y-eye, 'e

say:

"'Wun da win' fer stop blow un da rain fer stop drip, me go mek me one

house. Me mek um tight fer keep da rain out; me pit top on strong fer

keep da win' out.'

"Dun da rain dry up un da win' stop. Da Buzzud, 'e stan' 'pon top da

dead pine. Wun da sun bin-a shine, 'e no mek um no house no'n 't all. 'E

stay 'pon da dead pine; 'e 'tretch 'e wing wide open; 'e bin dry hisse'f

in da sun. 'E hab mek no house sence 'e bin born. 'E one fool bud."

"En yit," said Uncle Remus, with a grave, judicial air, "I year tell er

one time w'en ole Brer Buzzard wa'n't so mighty fur outer de way wid he

notions."

"Me yent yeddy tahlk 'bout dis," Daddy Jack explained.

"I 'speck not," responded Uncle Remus. "Hit seem lak dat dey wuz one

time w'en Mr. Hawk come sailin' 'roun' huntin' fer sump'n' 'n'er t' eat,

en he see Brer Buzzard settin' on a dead lim', lookin' mighty lazy en

lonesome.

"Mr. Hawk, sezee, 'How you come on, Brer Buzzard?'

"Brer Buzzard, sezee, 'I'm mighty po'ly, Brer Hawk; po'ly en hongry.'

"Mr. Hawk, sezee, 'W'at you waitin' yer fer ef you hongry, Brer

Buzzard?'

"Brer Buzzard, sezee, 'I'm a-waitin' on de Lord.'

"Mr. Hawk, sezee, 'Better run en git yo' brekkus, Brer Buzzard, en den

come back en wait.'

"Brer Buzzard, sezee, 'No, Brer Hawk, I'll go bidout my brekkus druther

den be biggity 'bout it.'

"Mr. Hawk, he 'low, sezee, 'Well, den, Brer Buzzard, you got yo' way en

I got mine. You see dem ar chick'ns, down dar in Mr. Man hoss-lot? I'm

a-gwine down dar en git one un um, un den I'll come back yer en wait

'long wid you.'

"Wid dat, Mr. Hawk tuck'n sail off, en Brer Buzzard drop he wings down

on de lim' en look mighty lonesome. He sot dar en look mighty lonesome,

he did, but he keep one eye on Mr. Hawk.

"Mr. Hawk, he sail 'roun' en 'roun', en he look mighty purty. He sail

'roun' en 'roun' 'bove de hoss-lot--'roun' en 'roun'--en bimeby he dart

down at chick'ns. He shot up he wings en dart down, he did, des same ef

he 'uz fired out'n a gun."

"Watch out, pullets!" exclaimed 'Tildy, in a tone of warning.

"He dart down, he did," continued Uncle Remus, rubbing his hand

thoughtfully across the top of his head, "but stidder he hittin' de

chick'ns, he tuck'n hit 'pon de sharp een' un a fence-rail. He hit dar,

he did, en dar he stuck."

"Ah-yi-ee!" exclaimed Daddy Jack.

"Dar he stuck. Brer Buzzard sot en watch 'im. Mr. Hawk aint move. Brer

Buzzard sot en watch 'im some mo'. Mr. Hawk aint move. He done stone

dead. De mo' Brer Buzzard watch 'im de mo' hongrier he git, en bimeby he

gedder up he wings, en sorter clean out he year wid he claw, en 'low,

sezee:

"'I know'd de Lord 'uz gwineter pervide.'"

"Trufe too!" exclaimed Aunt Tempy. "'T aint bin in my min' dat Buzzard

got sense lak dat!"

"Dar's whar you missed it, Sis Tempy," said Uncle Remus gravely. "Brer

Buzzard, he tuck'n drap down fum de dead lim', en he lit on Mr. Hawk, en

had 'im fer brekkus. Hit 's a mighty 'roun' about way fer ter git

chick'n-pie, yit hit 's lots better dan no way."

"I 'speck Hawk do tas'e like chicken," remarked 'Tildy.

"Dey mos' sho'ly does," said Uncle Remus, with emphasis.