Beyond the Notes | 07
In a throwaway society, where all too often, the many are sacrificed for the few, perhaps the scarecrow is the ultimate personification of the loneliness we have all experienced?
In this series, I share some of the pieces of music which have meant the most to me in my life, and the stories behind why they resonate so strongly within a life lived slowly and simply.
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Did scarecrows scare you as a child? The very word feels dark and mysterious, yet at their heart, they are merely a personification of a human, designed to scare the crows away. If, like me, you are a child of the 1980s, you probably didn’t escape a glimpse of the children’s television series, Worzel Gummidge, based on the series of 10 books by Barbara Euphon Todd. Inevitably, Worzel was a scarecrow who came to life, befriended two children, and caused havoc in the process. The original series has a passing family connection as it was filmed in and around Stockbridge, Hampshire, just a stone’s throw from Longstock, the parish where my grandfather was the vicar and where my mother was born.
Even as a child, this supposedly light-heated children’s series felt dark, slightly sinister, and quite honesty, pretty weird. You could say that my relationship with scarecrows was tainted young. The origins of the scarecrow can be traced back to Ancient Egypt, to the Greeks, and to the Roman Empire. As a child, they were familiar sights in the fields of the English countryside, though I was minded to avert my eyes. Despite attempts to make these effigies almost comic, just as in The Wizard of Oz, they remained, for me, a rather sinister apparition.
In many ways, perhaps the scarecrow is the personification of loneliness? A straw-stuffed effigy left in the middle of a field, to serve no purpose other than to protect its owner’s crops. Once it has served its purpose, it can be discarded. Easily born, easily replaced. I wonder how many times in your life you’ve been left alone facing the stark reality that you have merely been used: a pawn in the game? I know I have, and the culprits are often those I trusted most.
Over the centuries, we have created more and more elaborate scarecrows, often worthy of lavish festivals of their own. They all have their own characters, yet they remain lonely. Scarecrows, in their old clothes, stuffed with discarded straw, have served as a stark reminder of times past. Wiring in 1938, Henry Williamson, in The Story of a Norfolk Farm, wrote:
‘Jimmy had made the malkin of an old faded coat and a pair of grey flannel trousers, stuffed with straw. Its paper face was bleached with the sun, and whenever I had seen it, suddenly, as I had been rolling the Hang High field, it had given me a start. The legs were rounded, as though swelled. It looked like something that had died in that position, in a warning attitude, its arms spread out, its shattered head thrown back. Jimmy had been too realistic…It was not a scarecrow; it was a reminder of things that had been forgotten, and were likely to happen again, unless men began to think differently’
Lal and Mike Waterson’s 1972-song, The Scarecrow (sung here by June Tabor), brings to life the dark and lonely existence of these beings:
As I walked out one summer’s morn,
Saw a scarecrow tied to a pole in a field of corn.
His coat was black, and his head was bare,
When the wind shook him the crows took up into the air.
Over the years, many of have sought to analyse this mysterious folk-song. Some have linked it to religious cults, to sacrifice and suffering. Others see it as a reminder of the all-powerful Mother Earth. We shall never really know, but at its heart, it offers us a reminder that time passes and the seasons change. We are all guilty of romanticising these things, but they bring their own sadness and suffering now, just as they did to our ancestors in times past:
For you’re only a bag of bones in an overall
That the wind blows and the kids throw stones at the thing on the pole.
Perhaps scarecrows might become our friends once more, yet in that tainted friendship remains a reminder of all that has been sacrificed for us. Eventually, our poor scarecrow friend will wilt and perish. What remains will be discarded, only to be replaced by another lonely individual with the same solitary purpose. Rather than a ‘bag of old bones in an overall’, perhaps we can rewrite the tale of the scarecrow? After all, Bagpuss was just a saggy, old cloth cat, but Emily loved him.
In our busy world, where things and people come and go, scarecrows offer us a stark reminder of how easy it is to experience loneliness. Friends come and go, often with alarming regularity; life changes, and we too can feel discarded; easily replaced.
In a throwaway society, where all too often, the many are sacrificed for the few, perhaps the scarecrow is the ultimate personification of the loneliness we have all experienced?
Perhaps it’s time to learn to love and cherish the scarecrows in our lives? Rather than a warning, perhaps those spread out arms seek an embrace?
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Have you seen the remakes of Worzel Gummidge by Mackenzie Crook? They are completely enchanting. A fascinating piece and confess I don't ever remember seeing one in a field but, if they are like this portrayal of Worzel Gummidge, I would love to!
Now I think I’ll make a scarecrow for my yard!