The scarecrow was the first change I made when I moved into my new home. I had no intention to maintain the vegetable garden my predecessor had cultivated, so why not cultivate friendship?

It was heavier than I thought it would be, likely from the rain. As I stood on the ladder, hoisting the sodden body off the post, I saw the first crow land in a tree nearby. I don’t think they were ever scared of it. They were simply clever enough to see that they were unwanted.

I had planned to tear the scarecrow apart to dispose of it in pieces over time. Then I thought about the legacy of rain that thing had withstood and the mould likely hiding inside, and left it to rot against the fence at the far side of the property.

The post was a separate issue. It had been cemented in, and the wood had been treated so it did not show signs of weakening or rot. I put it down the list of jobs that needed doing, and placed a piece of bread at its base as a peace offering.

The next day, the bread was missing and I saw two crows in the tree. Where the bread had been was a single button. It was blue and plastic, but unscratched and shiny. I picked it up and replaced it with a handful of peanuts. A chorus of caws sounded, that I interpreted as approving.

The gifts continued to be a novelty, for a time. Coins, buttons, an earring, pens.

The glass eye was the end of that time.

I had always thought they were spherical, but it was flat against the base of the post, like the ground was peeping up at me. I used a tissue to pick it up, and left the berries in its place.

Crows blocked the path back to my home. Normally they happily watched me place the gift on the windowsill, but apparently this gift was not for me to keep.

The sound of wings flapping made me look at the top of the pole. A crow balanced, holding tattered cloth in its claw. The fabric landed in my instinctive grasp as the crow flew back to the tree. It was rough and wet, but unmistakably the head of the scarecrow. It was empty and the seam at the neck had been unpicked.

I pulled the fabric over the top of the pole and held the eye up to it. A chorus of caws let me know this was right. These gifts were not for me, they were for something new.

I had welcomed the crows to my home and removed what they were supposed to fear. Now it was time to see what they worshipped.