“Because his grandpap asked too many questions,” replied Ol’ Mistah Buzzard, slyly winking at the others.

Everybody laughed, for everybody knows that no one asks more questions than Peter Rabbit.  Peter laughed with the rest, although he looked a wee bit foolish.  But he didn’t mean to give up just because he was laughed at.  Oh, my, no!

“Please, Mr. Buzzard, please tell us the story,” he begged.

Now Ol’ Mistah Buzzard is naturally good-natured and accommodating, and when Peter begged so hard, he just couldn’t find it in his heart to refuse.  Besides, he rather enjoys telling stories.  So he shook his feathers out, half spread his wings to let the air blow under them, looked down at all the little meadow and forest people gathered about the foot of the tall, dead tree where he delights to roost, grinned at them in the funniest way, and then began this story: 

“Way back in the days when Grandpap Buzzard had his lil falling out with ol’ King Eagle and done fly so high he sco’tch the feathers offen his haid, he had a cousin, did Grandpap Buzzard, and this cousin was jes’ naturally lazy and no ’count.  Like most no ’count people, he used to make a regular nuisance of hisself, poking his nose into ev’ybody’s business and never ’tending to his own.  Wasn’t anything going on that this trifling member of the Buzzard fam’ly didn’t find out about and meddle in.  He could ask mo’ questions than Peter Rabbit can, an’ anybody that can do that has got to ask a lot.”

Everybody looked at Peter and laughed.  Peter made a funny face and laughed too.

“Seemed like he jes’ went ’round from mo’ning to night asking questions,” continued Ol’ Mistah Buzzard, “Got so that eve’ybody dreaded to see that no ’count Buzzard coming, because he bound to pester with questions about things what don’t concern him no ways.

“Now yo’ know that way down in Ol’ Virginny where Ah done come from, mah fam’ly done got the habit of sitting on the tops of chimneys in the wintertime to warm their toes.”

“Why, I thought it was warm down south!” interrupted Peter Rabbit.

“So it is, Brer Rabbit!  So it is!” Ol’ Mistah Buzzard hastened to say.  “But yo’ see, ol’ Jack Frost try to come down there sometimes, an’ he cool the air off a right smart lot before he turn tail an’ run back where he belong.  So we-uns sit on the chimney-tops whenever ol’ Jack Frost gets to straying down where he have no business.  Yo’ see, if we-uns keep our toes warm, we-uns are warm all over.

“One day this no ’count, trifling cousin of Grandpap Buzzard get cold in his feet.  He look ‘round right smart fo’ a chimney fo’ to warm his toes, an’ pretty soon he see one where he never been before.  It was on a lil ol’ house, a lil ol’ tumble-down house.  Mistah Buzzard fly right over an’ sit on that chimney-top fo’ to warm his toes.  Of course he right smart curious about that lil ol’ tumble-down house and who live there.  He hear somebody inside talking to theirself, but he can’t hear what they say, jes’ a mumbling sound that come up the chimney to him.