The crows have always been trouble. I try to grow corn in my garden to eat and I find only cobs as the crows have already picked all the kernels off. I plant basil and parsley and sage for cooking and they eat the seeds and the sprouts. I plant witch hazel and nettles and hemlock for potions and they tear them up and pile them at my door as if to say, ‘plant something we can eat!’

I’d eat my dinner, looking out the window to see the crows eating theirs: my crops. One spring I had had enough!

 I went into my closet and got an old pair of pants and a tattered T-shirt that was no good for wearing. With straw, I stuffed the pants and then I stuffed the shirt for I was making a scarecrow. The face was the hardest. I took a large ripe pumpkin and a large knife and I carved out two eyes, but they were triangles and slanted in a way that made the face look angry. Then I cut a nose into the middle and it looked to be snarling. Finally, I carved a mouth into the angry face. Though I’d meant to carve a smile, it came out straight. No expression, but with the angry eyes and snarling nose, the face still looked angry. I figured, all the better to scare those pesky crows. So, I hung the scarecrow on a pole in the middle of my garden.

I called the scarecrow Jericho

            Jericho worked hard. He scared the crows away. I ate my dinner and saw that the crows went hungry. In fact, for the full first day I didn’t see them at all. After that, they returned, but wouldn’t come into my garden. I’d eat my dinner and they’d lick their beaks, but not my crops. They’d line the fence and stare at Jericho. I didn’t know why for the longest time. He just stood there, after all, looking at me eat my dinner.

            One day I came home and didn’t see Jericho in the middle of the garden. I thought he had fallen down, but when I went to pick him back up, I saw that he hadn’t fallen. He was standing in the corner, facing the fence. Just standing there, slumped straw shoulders, tattered plaid shirt. He was standing without his pole, though. I thought surely it was just a strong wind that had blown him over there, so I put him back up on his pole.

            In the middle of the night, I heard a thump followed by a loud and clattering sound. Shaking, I got a flashlight and went to look in the kitchen since that is where the sound came from. In the kitchen, I saw the knife drawer had been pulled out and the other utensils lay scattered on the floor. This was the thud that woke me. A large knife was missing, I noticed. In its place was a small bundle of straw. I followed a trail of loose straw from the kitchen to the garden. There, I noticed Jericho was off his pole again. I found him in the corner of the garden again, just standing there. This time only one of his straw shoulders was slumped. The other was raised and in the old gardening glove that was his hand was a kitchen knife. I thought surely this was a joke Sunny or Felipe were playing on me.

I went to Jericho and as I was putting him back up on his pole, I said, ‘Who has been messing with you, poor Jericho?”

            I had not meant to get an answer, but I got one. ‘It is nice to hear your voice, great gardener.’

            I leapt back and saw Jericho’s straight mouth had twisted into a grin.

            ‘I cut myself some ear holes so I can hear you calling,’ the voice came from Jericho’s pumpkin head. ‘Surely you’ve called me to dinner, and I simply haven’t heard.’

            I looked horrified; I’m sure, as I was horrified. I didn’t say anything.

            ‘Why don’t you smile, great gardener? Shall I cut a smile for you?’

            I screamed and stumbled back as Jericho leapt off his pole and slashed at me with the knife. Scrambling, I got up and rushed inside and closed the door.

            Jericho followed and scraped the knife against the door. ‘Surely you just forgot to invite me in for dinner, great gardener. Let me carve some manners into you.’

            The sun was coming up and still Jericho scraped his knife at the door.

            ‘Great gardener, I’m hungry. Surely you’ll have me in for dinner.’

            Now the sun was risen and the crows were cawing and I got an idea. I grabbed a bag of seeds and a can of corn and when Jericho said once more, ‘Surely you will have me for dinner!’ I opened the door and threw the seed and corn at him, covering him from his pumpkin head to his straw feet. In an instant he was covered in hungry crows.

            ‘How about we have you for breakfast!’ I said and Jericho was gone, in the bellies of three-dozen crows.

            I thought it was over then, and I still hope it is over, but I’m not sure. For in the corner Jericho kept going to, I found a pumpkin. Turning it around, I saw Jericho had been carving a face for a scarecrow friend. I smashed it and fed it to the crows. I thought I’d plant a second garden for them, and keep the one to myself. The crows had earned it.

Still. I wonder, how many pumpkin-faced friends did Jericho make before the one I smashed? How many got away to ask to be invited in for dinner as reward for their long days of work in another garden?