The other night Hubby walked into our home office and was dreadfully and tragically scared out of his wits.
He got severely startled and yelled at me to “get rid of that Annadanna Scarecrow!”
In case you can’t tell, that’s my steamer. And hanging from it is the outfit I almost wore to work on Friday before changing my mind at the last minute.
Unlike most scarecrows, the Annadanna Scarecrow is not protecting a farm. It’s not even really meant to “scare”. It’s just the type of thing that can startle a person pretty easily, mostly due to the fact that it’s just so friggin unexpected.
You just don’t anticipate someone randomly standing in your office, and then, all of a sudden, staring you right in the face.
For a scarecrow, the Annadanna Scarecrow is damn effective.
Apparently people have been using scarecrows forever. The first scarecrows were Egyptian, made along the Nile River to protect wheat fields from flocks of quail. The Greeks, too, loved scarecrows, discovering that they could mimic the God Priapus, who played in the vineyards and kept birds away from the grapes. It also seems that scarecrows in Medieval Britain were live boys, aged 9 years or older. (An excellent passtime for a young Brit, if you ask me.)
So, my Annadanna Scarecrow is not a new idea.
It is, however, the most effective scarecrow I’ve ever seen. It doesn’t just scare crows (though, come to think of it, there were fewer crows in my house all weekend). It actually scares humans too, making it the best kind of scarecrow – the kind that can scare the crap of whatever approaches.
Whatever you throw at it, the Annadanna Scarecrow does the job. It has surely made both Hubby and I shit our pants on more than one occasion, (and then piss our pants laughing).
I therefore think the Annadanna Scarecrow is the best scarecrow of all time. I might even enter it into the Clinton, Ontario Scarecrow Festival. I have no doubt it would win top prize.