Grandma poured hot sassafras tea into my cup. She dropped in a dab of sweetening. “Jolly allus did take to birds,” she said. “When a wee chip of a boy, he’d point at every one he saw, setting or flying. He kept the martins scared, forever climbing their poles and shaking their gourds. Couldn’t keep tame pigeons for him sticking his head in their boxes, a-watching. Recollect once your grandpap killed him a Kentucky red-bird. How good tickled Jolly was. Kept that dead bird in hand allus, slept with it of a night. Maggots got it finally and Boone had to kill another, swapping without Jolly knowing the differ. He killed five or six, though it punished him to kill. Boone never favored killing sport. Never cared a grain for turkey shoots with fellers taking pot shots, shooting cold. Well, come a time when he quit that redbird foolishness and gave Jolly a talking-to.

“‘They won’t be a bird on the face of the earth the way folks fire lead around,’ he said. ‘Hain’t right to take a creature’s life just to pleasure yourself. Mighty nigh like killing folks.’ Such a talk-to he gave Jolly, he’s never harmed a bird, never packed a gun for man nor beast. I’m right proud.”

Dew had dried when Uncle Jolly returned. We were waiting in the yard. He came and stood before Grandma where she sat on a broken churn amidst the seasash. His eyes were fierce; his Adam’s apple jerked in the nest of his throat as he gulped angrily.

Grandma spoke. “Hit must a-been a reckoning sign for shore.” Her voice was almost a whisper, for she saw Uncle Jolly’s anger.

“I met three fellers riding down the creek,” Uncle Jolly spoke, louder than was need. “They brought damn strange news.”

“Son, did you see that there bird-creature agin?”

“I say I got troubling news. Them three come bringing blame.”

“Why, nobody went down the creek as I saw.”

“Two on a mare, and one on a jenny. That mare swelled fit to bust, and two riding. They’d come across the ridge from Sand Lick, by Aus Coggins’ place. Aye, God, Aus claims I cut his fences to giblets four nights ago. Cows got out and et half his crop. One beast died of flounders. Two times now he’s blamed me of fence cutting.”

“Why, son, I know that hain’t so. You’ve not been off the place for a span.”

“My wire cutters are dull as a fro. Hain’t been used God knows when. I can prove.”

“He won’t be asking proof, Aus Coggins won’t.”