🐦‍⬛ Pecks and Stitchin' 🌾.

  Pecks & Stitchin'  

(761 Words)

"Caw! Caw!"

The murder of cuerasus were making sounds in the distance, just like every other day. This was fine by Whitlea, as she had to get her daily tasks done, first by going to the cornfield.

"Caw!"

The cosprouts cried again as they flapped their mighty wings relentlessly. And there they were, perched atop the lifeless form of the scarecrow. They pecked at the straw-covered face with determination, pulling out stuffing and straw with each strike.

The mischievous murder of cuerasus had begun their relentless attack. Again..

The stuffing and straw inside the poor scarecrow were pulled out bit by bit, while the fabric grew more tattered from the sharp beaks. It eventually gave way under the onslaught, collapsing itself to the ground with a heavy thud.

As the scarecrow came to rest, the caws of the cosprouts stopped...
Whitlea looked up to see them already fleeing the 'crime scene.'

Tch, these naughty rascals!

Whitlea shook her head, whilst pressing her palm against her face.

The scarecrow laid on the ground, defeated and helpless. Its fabric is shredded and straw strewn about.
Whitlea frowned as she saw the state of the scarecrow, having to now take time out of her busy schedule to fix its damaged form. It was just another task added to her to-do list, thus making her sigh.

The farmer took pity on 'Mr. Scarecrow,' a silly little nickname she had given it over the course of time.
Mr. Scarecrow had been an old worn out ragdoll used over many seasons,
It was meant to scare them off, but it's clear they found amusement and joy in messing with it instead.

Surprisingly, this worked in her favor. Most of the cuerasus were too busy having fun with the scarecrow to bother with the crops. To Whitlea, this was a favorable result.

While she saw it as a positive, the unfortunate figure still needed repair. Mr. Scarecrow had seen better days.. It needed a proper fixin', that's for sure.

Upon closer inspection, some of the fabric was torn, its scratched button eyes were loose and the straw needed fluffing up.

Whitlea rummaged through her jeans overalls' pocket and discovered a tiny sewing kit and a spare button.

"Just what I need," she mumbled to herself.

All she needed now were some patches and straw to cover the holes and the scarecrow would be as good as new.

The farmer whistled with her two fingers pressed against her lips, creating a loud, high-pitched sound that echoed through the field. Instantly, her friendly bevaca, Bessie, mooed in response, eagerly trotting over toward the sound of her call.

"Moo!~"

"Hey, cutie! Could you help a girl out?" Whitlea called out to the chocolate-hued bevaca, who perked up its ears and looked at her with an inquisitive expression.

"Can you please bring some patches and scraps of straw for Mr. Scarecrow?"
she asked with a friendly tone, gesturing towards the damaged scarecrow.

"They're kept near the farmhouse supplies." Whitlea directed Bessie, pointing them to the location where the materials were kept. The cosprout mooed in understanding and swiftly trotted towards the farmhouse, ready to help out with the scarecrow's repair.

As Whitlea waited for Bessie to return, her nimble fingers got to work. With experience, she carefully detached the scarecrow's old button and skillfully replaced it with a shiny new one, ensuring it was secured and sturdy.

Once Bessie returned with a handful of patches and scraps of straw, Whitlea thanked them with a grateful smile and a pat on the head. She took the supplies, all ready to fix Mr. Scarecrow.

With gentle hands and careful precision, she adorned the torn parts of Mr. Scarecrow with some adorable handmade embroidered patches, which were made by Cosette. The patches featured images of farm animals, the sun, and blooming flowers of the like. The farmer took great care to ensure each patch was evenly stitched and secured in place.

Before long, Whitlea had completed the repair work. She had neatly patched up the torn fabric and stuffed it with new straw, leaving Mr. Scarecrow looking better than before.

"There ya go! Good as new."
She said as she wiped the sweat off her forehead, admiring her handiwork.

With a content smile, Whitlea lifted the scarecrow and carefully placed it back in its original position. The once-tattered and battered straw figure now stood tall and proud, the colourful patches adding a touch of unexpected charm.

To be loved is to be changed.

This profound thought crossed Whitlea's mind as she finished up her task.