November 08 2007

Text By Meera Sethi

In the fields of California thin ribbons of shiny metal shiver and shake in the sun to scare away crows. Long plastic arms whirl and bob like robotic maniacs, modern-day scarecrows with no human faces.

But it seems cold, almost rude, to shoo away birds with so little ceremony. They're too easy, these mechanical marvels that strobe the sun and cut the air. They've forgotten who their enemies are. These are wild, stubborn beasts, these black wings. It takes personality to keep them from settling, feeding, laying themselves over the field in dark, muttering cloaks, disturbing the crops. It takes style. Style like theirs.

This scarecrow has got it in spades. Or is that sickles?