Robin and Kimberly at our Echo Drive home with friend.
Keeping the rain off the rhubarb and the locusts off the grain goes back a long way.
I had to search the attic of my brain for memories of how my ancestors kept the crows away (see the previous story). The word "scarecrow" emerged from the foggy mists of my failing synapses.
I dug the photo out of the old scrapbook and there it was. There we were. Posing with that earwig-infested monster Dad built to keep the birds away from his cherry and peach crops.
Since it is close to Halloween, and everyone these days is doing a lot of decorating, I drove to one of those crafts stores to see if they had something scarecrow-ish that might work for me.
"How's this?" the young lady said holding the thing aloft.
It looked more like Raggedy Andy than anything that would scare a crow. But the price was right ($4.00) so I figured it was worth a shot. No, wait, not a shot. (That's my final option.) I meant a try.
When I first took a hammer to his head (I had to, to stake him into the ground) he seemed to be lacking something.
I hung those bells around his neck. No, not quite right. Then, this morning, I got an inspiration. I found a couple of those wire hangers Joan Crawford discarded and, voila!
... With his arms out in a gesture that says "Stop! Don't cross my lawn, you crows!" he looked just a teeny bit tougher. I put a couple of feathers in his cap (so I could call him Macaroni).
Crows are very intelligent. It is indeed likely they will not be deterred by this ruse. However, my neighbors have already found my display hilarious. It is so rare, in these trying times, to have this much fun for just four bucks.
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