A murder of crows precedes me everywhere I wander. They are the first warning -- and often the only warning -- that I’m on my way. The crows flee from me for good reason. I have an insatiable appetite and no preference for what satisfies it.
Those crows are the bane of my existence. They scream and cry, warning my prey. Petulant creatures.
I was made to make them scurry in fear. Mankind didn’t know what they were doing when they created me. I’m to protect their precious fields; keep those stupid birds out of the stocks. That’s easy. What they didn’t know when they created me was that I will eat anything and everything with a heartbeat. I’m not picky.
Late at night, I leave the cornfields. I wander through the woods until I find something to feed my hunger. Usually, I find rabbits, deer, groundhogs, nothing any of you humans would really notice was missing.
But sometimes...sometimes I come across a house. Most don’t lock their doors out here. They make it far too easy for me. While they sleep, thinking they’re safe in their beds, I simply walk into their houses. I climb up the stairs to their bedrooms, and I feed.
All those unexplained murders, those are me and my brothers.
At night, we aren’t so innocent looking. Our burlap skin hardens, darkens. Our mouths stretch, our teeth finally showing. Glowing eyes shine through our rough masks. The monsters we truly are becomes visible to even your dull eyes.
I thought someone would have figured it out by now. Some of us have been less careful than others. Straw has been found at crime scenes. Occasionally, even one of our silly hats. You all think it’s just someone dressed as a scarecrow. We could never come to life and hunt you down. We’re so innocent and cute, inanimate. Oh, how wrong you are.
Don’t you know? Anything is possible in this world. You’re such easy prey, ignorant to the world and clues around you.
So the next time you see a bunch of crows flying away, you’d do best to follow them. I’m not far behind.