"Martha," I asked, "just what exactly is a varmint?"
"Why, a wild-cat be's a varmint, Sugar," she said. "Skunks be varmints, an' 'coons an' foxes an' 'possums. Minkses, too. A panther be's a varmint, an' a bear. All them wild things, Sugar, out in the woods. Tigers be varmints, an' lions. A lion," she said earnestly, "he'll kill you right now. We ain't got tigers an' lions, praise God, but did we have, they'd be varmints,"
"But a cow, now, Sugar, hit ain't a varmint. Nor a hog. Them's beas'es."
"Heap o' folkses be varmints," she said.
From Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings memoir, Cross Creek.