The Yearling

Now he understood. This was death. Death was a silence that gave back no answer.

You've seed how things goes in the world o' men. You've knowed men to be low-down and mean. You've seed ol' Death at his tricks...Ever' man wants life to be a fine thing, and a easy. 'Tis fine, boy, powerful fine, but 'tain't easy. Life knocks a man down and he gits up and it knocks him down agin. I've been uneasy all my life...I've wanted life to be easy for you. Easier'n 'twas for me. A man's heart aches, seein' his young uns face the world. Knowin' they got to get their guts tore out, the way his was tore. I wanted to spare you, long as I could. I wanted you to frolic with your yearlin'. I knowed the lonesomeness he eased for you. But ever' man's lonesome. What's he to do then? What's he to do when he gits knocked down? Why, take it for his share and go on. —Penny Baxter

He lay down beside the fawn. He put one arm across its neck. It did not seem to him that he could ever be lonely again.

He was addled with April. He was dizzy with Spring. He was as drunk as Lem Forrester on a Saturday night.

This, then, was hunger. This was what his mother had meant when she had said, "We'll all go hongry." He had laughed, for he had thought he had known hunger, and it was faintly pleasant. He knew now that it had been only appetite. This was another thing.

You kin tame arything, son, excusin’ the human tongue.

They listened with flattering attention. He was filled with enthusiasm. He began at the beginning and tried to tell it as he thought Penny would do. Half-way through, he looked down at the cake. He lost interest in the account. "Then Pa shot him," he ended abruptly.

The wild animals seemed less predatory to him than people he had known.

He watched the sun rise beyond the grape arbor. In the thin golden light the young leaves and tendrils of the Scuppernong were like Twink Weatherby's hair. He decided that sunrise and sunset both gave him a pleasantly sad feeling. The sunrise brought a wild, free sadness; the sunset, a lonely yet a comforting one. He indulged his agreeable melancholy until the earth under him turned from gray to lavender and then to the color dried corn husks.

Don't go gittin faintified on me.

He would be lonely all his life. But a man took it for his share and went on.

Eulalie in a remote fashion belonged to him, Jody, to do with as he pleased, if only to throw potatoes at her.

Jody said, "Ma, you're shore good." "Oh, yes. When it's rations." "Well, I'd a heap ruther you was good about rations and mean about other things." "Oh, I be mean, be I?" "Only about jest a very few things," he soothed her.

He wrote: Dear ollever; yor ol twinkk has dun gode up the rivver. im gladd. yor friend jody.

You do somethin' for me? Go tell Twink I'll meet her at the old grove Tuesday about dusk-dark." Jody was frozen. He burst out, "I won't do it. I hate her. Ol' yellow-headed somethin'.

He lay down on his pallet and drew the fawn down beside him. He often lay so with it in the shed, or under the live oaks in the heat of the day. He lay with his head against its side. its ribs lifted and fell with its breathing. It rested its chin on his hand. It had a few short hairs there that prickled him. He had been cudgeling his wits for an excuse to bring the fawn inside at night to sleep with him, and now he had one that could not be disputed. He would smuggle it in and out as long as possible, in the name of peace.

I'm eating' it quick... but I'll remember it a long time.

Well, son, you cain’t go thru life chunkin’ things at all the ugly women you meet.

Grandma Hutto’s flower garden was a bright patchwork quilt thrown down inside the pickets.

She drew gallantry from men as the sun drew water. Her pertness enchanted them. Young men went away from her with a feeling of bravado. Old men were enslaved by her silver curls. Something about her was forever female and made all men virile.

Ma Baxter rocked complacently. They were all pleased whenever she made a joke. Her good nature made the same difference in the house as the hearth-fire had made in the chill of the evening.

Ever' man wants life to be a fine thing, and a easy. 'Tis fine, boy, powerful fine, but 'taint easy. --Penny Baxter to his son, Jody