A scarecrow, in a field of corn, to keep the birds at bay.
A sharecrow, in rows of beans, to feed them come what may.
I’m reading a book. I’ve forgotten the name in my currently foggy (“thick as peanut butter!” / “you mean pea soup!” / “you eat what you like and I’ll eat what I like!” ) brain. It tells of learning of farming from observation, documentation, and old timers.
One old timer the author learned from spoke of feeding the crows when the corn seedlings were small, so they left the sprouts alone until they were big enough that the crows left them be.
An unintentional parallel in my garden, currently.
The picture is its own poem too. It keeps talking to me. (Maybe we see eye to eye because . . . Land, heritage, shared interests; e.g., you might look into this, https://leafandtwig.wordpress.com/2019/09/29/how-we-save-each-other.
I did, and thought right away of friends.
Aww. I’m glad the hawk was able to calm its nerves enough to accept the release and transport. A few days ago my father found a barn owl who met with a car and will receive an honorable burial.