Crows, Scarecrows and Memories

  About mid afternoon, another ruckus could be heard out in the yard.  This one, however, was not nearly as exciting as the one sent up by the eagles.  Dozens of crows were circling above the house and each one felt the need to caw incessantly.  As I sat watching, more and more crows gathered. The birds flew about the place making their noise for a good hour before finally drifting off toward the east.  While I normally am ok with a crow or two hanging about the place, I was not too thrilled to see this many. Thoughts of "Good riddance!" fluttered through the mind as the crows left the area but. at the same time. a silly memory bounced in there, too.

  Back on the farm, Pop grew a lot of corn.  He always had his fields planted long before others thought the weather was warm enough.  The corn was necessary as food, a saleable crop and as food for the livestock.  Acre after acre was planted and cared for during late February and early March.  Then another crop was put in during midsummer.  This was one of the most important crops that the small farm produced since it fed so many.   The first harvesting was sold and also supplied our needs at the present time.  From this harvesting, we also prepared for the winter months.  Hundreds of ears were husked and frozen for later.  After the freezers were full, the remainder of the corn was allowed to dry on the stalk.  Once dried, we would harvest truckloads of the ears and store them for feed for the livestock.  Out of these dried ears, Pop would always save the largest, fullest ears to be used as seed for the next year.  It was one of my jobs to hand shell the kernels (from the cobs), inspect the seeds for varmints such as weevils and then store them in tight containers.   Corn, indeed, was an important crop.

  With this early planting, came the threat of crows pulling up the tiny plants to get to the seed underground.  When a flock the size of the one today would enter the fields, they could ruin the entire crop in a matter of a few hours.  The birds would methodically bob up and down the straight rows pulling the tiny plants.  The seed was plucked from the end and the plant laid to the wayside.  Pop was always listening for the crows and often had to dash to the field with his shotgun to scare them away.  Only occasionally would he actually kill a bird with those shots.  It was not his intention to shoot them but to scare them from the fields.  He was a firm believer that you did not kill anything that was not to be used as food.  

  I remember when I was a youngster in grade school, my teacher had put up decorations for fall/Halloween.  One of those decorations was a nice sized scarecrow.  This started my brain to thinking about why Pop had to shoot at the crows if he could just build a scarecrow.  I was determined to help Pop with his duties on the farm!  I would build a scarecrow so he did not have to race to the fields when he heard the crows cawing!  What a dutiful daughter I was!  I worked hard on my scarecrow and even convinced my brother to help me.  He and I were cohorts in so many escapades as kids but this one was at least helpful...so we thought.  With clothes from the clothesline, a few sticks from the woods and hay from the barn, we made quite the structure!  When we proudly brought our scarecrow out to show everyone, it received a round of giggles from our older siblings, a scolding from Mom for using her clean laundry and a thoughtful "Well, we better not put that in the field since I may need those pants."  Pop suggested that a better use would be as a decoration for the Halloween Carnival."  Pop was always the head of the local school's PTA (Parent-Teacher Association) which hosted the best carnivals for all of the local kids!  My brother and I were proud to drag that poor scarecrow to the school that weekend for the carnival, Pop was probably appreciative for the help (at least, I hope) and the crows were saved from dying by choking back giggles at the "terrifying scarecrow" in the fields.  Yes, it was that pathetic. 

  Isn't it funny how a simple thing like a flock of birds can trigger a memory so lost in time?  This was one of those occasions that laid hidden behind cobwebs in the dark recesses of my brain for some fifty years or so before being brought to light again.  Maybe I should thank the crows for jogging thoughts of happy times!