He stands alone near the fenceline staring out at the horizon. The breeze that rustles through the dried corn stalks stirs his tattered shirttails. He sways slightly, but keeps a firm grip on his rusty pitchfork with a broken tine.Since spring planting he's been out there, a silent sentinel of agricultural defense. As the fields were plowed and fertilized, he was watching. He witnessed the first emergence of seedlings and saw the workers moving handlines during the early summer drought.
But now the crop is in and harvest done, and he's still standing there, waiting. I find him unnerving.
Continued at... Silent Sentinel of Crop Protection
by Michael Hofferber. Copyright © 1995. All rights reserved.
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Artwork: Scarecrow by Susan Savad
