He so sidled and twittered and tilted as he hopped on his bush.
"Do you understand everything birds say ?" said Mary.
Dickon's grin spread until he seemed all wide, red, curving mouth, and he rubbed his rough head.
"I think I do, and they think I do," he said.

"I've lived on th' moor with 'em so long.

I've watched 'em break shell an' come out an' fledge an' learn to fly an' begin to sing, till I think I'm one of 'em.
Sometimes I think p'raps I'm a bird, or a fox, or a rabbit, or a squirrel, or even a beetle, an' I don't know it." He laughed and came back to the log and began to talk about the flower seeds again.

He told her what they looked like when they were flowers; he told her how to plant them, and watch them, and feed and water them.
"See here," he said suddenly, turning round to look at her.

"I'll plant them for thee myself.