What are these crows doing on this empty field? A very good question, they are searching for some remainders of the grain that once grew here. Crows are quite intelligent birds and know where to seek.
“Hey Fred, look, have a peck here, just found at least 5 grains of corn.”
“Great, don’t eat them all, I want some too.”
“And what about us”, cawed the rest of the tribe. There followed a squbble, a fight, claws were barred, there were a few screeches and those that found nothing flew off to the next field where the wheat was still waiting to be harvested.
And now the crows were happy, it was harvest pure, a laid table waiting to be cleared by their beaks.
It is now spring and there are only small green shoots poking over the earth, the seeds have been planted and the farmer is waiting for the rewards. Unfortunately the crows noticed that there was action and decided why wait until Autumn, when we can have a taste now. They were preparing to swoop down and have a peck into the earth when Farmer Jones approached. They ignored him, farmers were only humans and a peck in the right place would soon clear them away. However, farmer Jones was carrying something. It was perched on a stake and he planted it into the ground, just as Fred and his crow friends were sharpening their beaks.
“What’s that?” cawed Louis, on of the new arrivals, he had barely left the nest only a week before.
“I will have to think about it ” said Fred, and fluffed out a few feathers.
“Looks like a crow with long ears. That tail looks quite threatening. I think I will fly off to another field.” cawed Mabel, who was getting worried about leaving her babies on their own in a nest where they were waiting for food. They were always waiting for food it seemed. Mabel was wondering why she bothered. Year for year the same performance. Fred fertilises her eggs, she lays them and feeds them. And now this, a monster in the middle of a banqueting field.
“Liste Mabel, you go home and make sure our offspring are OK. I will fight the monster.”
Mabel flew off immediately.
“So Fred, what shall we do. No way am I pecking around the feet of that thing” said Louis. My mum did not tell me there would be monsters in the corn field. All I wanted was a few pecks to see what a fresh grain of wheat tasted like.
“What’s the problem boys, how come you are all hopping around that object.” It was Methusala, the oldest crow in the murder. Methusala had seen it all and knew it all, and a groups of crows were not called a murder for nothing. Methusala held the record for dead rodents. There were even humans that gave him a bowl of water to drink regularly, mainly because when they saw him coming with his beady red eyes, they decided it was safer.
“Look at it Methy” said Fred “it’s a monster and will probably kill us if we get closer. I am not touching a grain of wheat in that field.”
“Don’t be silly, just watch me” and Methusala sat on the object’s head and pecked at one of the ears. All the other crows retreated and cawed noisy screams.
“Methy, be careful, he could kill you.”
“Listen boys, live up to your reputations. Do you see blood, or sinews, even bones. No, of course not, Just straw and pieces of plastic. Farmer Jones does every year. He drags out the same old scarecrow, although he varies with the design. It used to be just a few sticks pieced together with an old hat and coat. Since he got himself a computer, he has got refined with the designs. They get more colourful every year. A few years ago he even built one with one red eye in the middle of its head. It was quite tasty actually, as he had made it from a cherry, even the stone was tasty. See that cherry tree growing over there, he has me to thank for that.”
Of course they knew the cherry tree, it was one of the delicacies of the area. And so they dared to attack the monster until there were only sticks, stuffing and bare threads left. A week later Farmer Jones realised why only half the planted field was growing, because the crows had eaten most of the grain. His scarecrow was still there, but only a few remains. The crows decided not to destroy everything, otherwise Farmer Jones might get suspicious. In the meanwhile he got himself a new computer and a photoshop programme for a better more improved scarecrow design for the next year.
Eventually the crows had eaten enough and decided to wait until harvest time for the big banquet celebrations. Yes, a crows life is a grainy life. And Mabel’s chicks grew to be strong crows, the oldest being called Methusala 2 after his uncle.
Daily Prompt: The Trouble with Grain