I would dance and be merry, life would be a ding-a-derry, If I only had a brain Summer is over, and the crisp Autumn season is almost upon us. Every season has its symbols, and with Autumn we tend to think of falling leaves, Halloween, and harvest, pumpkin picking, bobbing for apples, and, perhaps the most enigmatic of all Autumnal symbols - the scarecrow. As I was driving through wine country, California, the other day, I was struck by the sight of what appeared to be glittering ribbons whipping around in the wind above the grapevines. They were dotted around each vineyard every 20 feet or so, and flashed like Paparazzi cameras as we went by. Though they made quite the pretty sight, I soon realised these weren't mere decoration: they were modern scarecrows. These shimmering strands were a far cry from the dopey, hay-filled character from Wizard of Oz, whose face we usually conjure up when we think of scarecrows. It got me thinking - where did the scarecrow come from, and how did it transform from a human-shaped strawman to a reflective string of tape? It's not surprising to know that, like farming, scarecrows have been around for thousands of years. Ancient Egyptians built wooden structures covered in netting to protect their wheat fields from flocks of quail. The Ancient Greeks also used early versions of scarecrows, which were carved to look like Priapus, a god of fertility. (I would insert a depiction of Priapus here, but they are all positively explicit! (Click here if you dare). And in Japan, rice farmers were known to protect their farms with 'kakashis' : pieces of old meat or fish that were strung up and lit on fire, creating such a pungent smell that birds and animals stayed away. Some places used real life humans instead of wooden or straw effigies to do the crow scaring when it was convenient. According to some sources, farms in Medieval England were patrolled by young children who threw stones or clapped their hands to scare off birds. In the 1300s, however, the Black Death arrived in the UK, killing off between 30 and 40% of the entire population. After that, there weren't enough children to work as bird scarers. Instead, farmers stuffed sacks with hay, topped them with turnips or gourds with faces carved into them, and stood them up on poles to guard their fields. Et voila! the now-iconic scarecrow was born. As you can guess from its English name, the scarecrow's primary function is to scare away crows and other pests and keep them from picking at growing crops. But it has also managed to assimilate into the folk culture of countries across the world, sometimes in surprising ways. In the US and UK, yearly scarecrow festivals mark the beginning of the harvest season and offer an opportunity for community building and family-friendly fun. The main event is usually a scarecrow competition, during which attendants compete to make the most creative scarecrows, with no attention at all paid to how effectively these creations scare away crows or protect crops. Of course in popular Western culture, one of the most recognisable scarecrows is the affable character from L. Frank Baum’s Wizard of Oz. Again, this scarecrow is anything but scary. Some sources say he represents American farmers in the early 1900s, who were thought of as stupid but were actually very adept problem solvers. Others say that he, the Lion and the Tin Man symbolise the mind-body-spirit trifecta. Whatever the case may be, I’m willing to bet that that genial fellow could count on one straw hand the number of crows he managed to frighten in a lifetime. Comic book buffs may be aware that a villainous Scarecrow character exists in both the DC and Marvel worlds. The mere fact that both these major publishers developed these different characters speaks to the massive influence of the scarecrow on popular culture. While the traditional humanoid scarecrow is still clearly celebrated as a symbol of agriculture and depicted in various ways in pop culture, it is rarely used anymore to perform its original function. One exception, though, is in Japan. The country’s latest incarnation of the scarecrow is a rather unsettling sight: lifelike hairstylists’ mannequin heads impaled on sticks. Talk about freaky deaky. Speaking of freaky deaky… Let's journey to another part of Japan. Nagoro, a tiny village in the Iya Valley, was once home to 300 residents; but today, thanks to the country’s declining population, scarecrows in Nagoro outnumber humans 400 to 30. These lifelike dolls, crafted from cloth and stuffed with cotton and newspaper, were all made by one woman, Tsukimi Ayano, who began creating them more than ten years ago. It all started with one scarecrow, which she decided to make in the likeness of her father, to keep birds away from the seeds she’d planted. Ayano went on to produce dozens more dolls, modeling some after former residents and family members, and others after imaginary characters. They’re dotted all around the village and appear to be engaging in normal human tasks like tending crops, waiting at the bus stop and sitting at desks inside a school. "Every morning, I just greet them," Ayano told NPR last year. "I say 'good morning' or 'have a nice day!' I never get a response, but that doesn't make a difference. I go around talking to them anyway." (Learn more here). As I was saying… these days, the humanoid scarecrow has pretty much been wiped out altogether. Farmers eventually realised they become ineffective once birds in the area learn that they pose no real threat. Crows do, however, tend to avoid effigies of dead crows - especially ones that are hung upside down with their wings spread - so these are still sometimes used as scarecrows today. Falconry is another effective method of keeping crows at bay. Turns out that crows may be able to adapt to humans, but the fear of predatory birds is a far stronger instinct that is harder to shake Reflective mylar streamers are another modern method of scaring crows. According to the Humane Society, objects with reflective surfaces that spin or flap in the breeze frighten crows. (Turns out the idea that magpies are drawn to shiny objects was wrong all along). Farmers can even buy solar-powered mechanical scarecrows with mylar streamers attached to the arms. Evidently, it was these mylar strips that caught my eye that afternoon in Napa Valley.
Advancements in technology have also brought about more high-tech scarecrows like automatic noise guns, pyrotechnics, ultrasonic devices and digital lasers. Some of these are less effective than others, but that doesn’t stop vintners and farmers from testing the waters. From Greek gods to cartoon villains, lifelike dolls to glittering ribbons, scarecrows have undergone quite the transformation over the years. As the Wizard of Oz character professes, scarecrows may not have a brain - but they certainly have a story.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorJournalist/ editor/ traveller/ poet/ observer/ listener/ lover of life Archives
September 2017
Categories |