Stories for Children / Little Monsters

Once upon a time in England there was a scarecrow. He stood in a field and looked like a man. But he wasn t a real man. The scarecrow was made of straw.

The scarecrow s head was an old football. His face was painted on: two eyes, a nose and a smiling mouth. He didn t have hair, but he did have a hat. It was brown and made of felt. A farmer used to wear it, long ago.

His clothes had come from the farmer too: a long brown coat with lots of pockets, an old pair of jeans with holes in the legs, a worn-out leather belt with a rusty buckle, a red scarf with white stripes.

The scarecrow didn t have shoes, because he didn t have feet. A wooden pole kept him standing in the ground. He never moved.

The scarecrow liked being in the field. He saw the Sun come up every morning. He watched the clouds drift across the sky. At night, he gazed at the Moon and counted the stars.

He enjoyed his job. He scared away the crows - the big, clever black birds that made trouble on the farm. They stole the seeds when they were sown. They pecked at the vegetables when the leaves began to grow. The scarecrow knew without him, nothing would grow at all.

But this year, the scarecrow had a problem.

The farmer had stuffed him full of new straw. Clean, yellow straw. It made a good body. The scarecrow was very happy. His coat fitted him much better now, and he felt smart.

The problem was the crows. It was springtime, so they were building nests. They were looking for things to use - and they had spotted the new straw. It was perfect.

Three crows sat on a fence and looked at the scarecrow.