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The smoke cloud ruffled my wings as I flew over the dead town. Below me, a smorgasbord of corpses littered the ground—all-burnt to a blackened crisp (which only sealed-in the juices). Some of my cousins were already feasting, pecking through the black crust to the dark red below. I circled over the scene in-search of a clearing where the smoke wasn't so strong—the smell of burnt flesh had already, regrettably, begun to cling to my plumage. As I soared through the smoke, the sound of a deep humming tore my attention away from all the cawing and ripping. The hum throbbed-out like the forgotten tune of a mother-bird's song. I flew towards the sound until I spotted a scarecrow—some poor wretch that was hung-up to scare-off the likes of me. The scarecrow hummed out a broken melody as if it didn't even remember the tune. I flew lower and perched myself next to its hay-flecked head. Its sad humming ended on a harsh cough and I announced my presence with a caw. The scarecrow tilted its head back until we were face-to-face with one another. Two golden eyes peered-out of a face that was bloodied and blackened with ash.
“Shoo.” the scarecrow rasped-out in greeting.
I hopped along the post it was hung from as I examined the unfortunate creature. I decided I would wait until it died before I started eating it.
“Help!” the scarecrow called-out loud enough to fright a flock of my cousins.
I crowed in response and it earned me a glance from the scarecrow. Its eyes reminded me of the shiny golden trinkets I had stolen away. The scarecrow sighed and hung his head down.
“I'm going to die here,” it mumbled to itself, “I don't even know where here is.”
I cawed in response and wondered what the scarecrow was rambling on about.
Several days passed.
Each time I left my perch in-search of food, I'd return to find one of my cousins pecking at my scarecrow. I squawked and cawed and poked the others until they flew-off. Sometimes the scarecrow would hum. Sometimes it wouldn't. Sometimes I thought it was dead. The scarecrow had a lub-dub, lub-dub sound coming from its chest. Sometimes it was the only sound the scarecrow made. I listened for the sound like a favorite melody and noticed when it grew fainter.
One day, a high-pitched caw came from above as one of my cousins signaled the approach of a human. In spite of the delicious meal I knew the scarecrow would make, the news of a human excited me. I crowed from my perch next to the scarecrows head, but the scarecrow made no movement. Through a swirl of poppy pollen, I saw the human getting closer. I squawked and I cawed in the scarecrows ear. Its head lifted and the lub-dub, lub-dub thrummed faster than I'd ever heard it thrum.
“Help.” it rasped, weakly.
One of my cousins swooped-down and landed on my scarecrows neck, pecking away. The scarecrow shook him off before I could chase him away myself. My scarecrow was finally living-up to its name! The human stopped before us as my cousin fluttered off with his caws of protest. For a moment the lub-dub, lub-dub stopped completely and I felt my own heart skip a beat, thinking the scarecrow had just died. Luckily, its heart started beating again and I wondered what had stopped it as I looked at this new human with its wind-blown mane and curved figure. It was positively ugly.
“Help me.” the scarecrow spoke to the human.
The human rushed to its side and then shooed me away as it rocked the post I was perched on. I flew off squawking as I watched the scarecrow being lowered from its perch. I didn't mourn the loss of a fine meal as I watched as the scarecrow was set free. I didn't mourn the loss of a comfortable perch or even the loss of a purpose. No. As I watched the human and the scarecrow hobble off into the distance, I wondered about the intellect of humans. I wondered what made the humans think that they could scare off a bunch of birds with a bound man on a post! If anything, a scarecrow was more of an invitation than a deterrent.