Dolly Clockaclay was busy in Angela's flower garden. She didn't move when Jenny approached her. Jenny looked around at the flower garden to see why. It was a beautiful garden the size of a field, bursting with tall flowers all bunching against each other in every colour you can imagine. Then Jenny noticed that someone was watching her.
'Hello, what you doing up here Jenny girl?'
It was Miss Flowerdew's old gardener, Mr Chaffinch, but everyone just called him Chaffy.
'Just looking for the clockaclays Chaffy.' replied Jenny.
'Righty ho, give my regards to your lovely Ma when you get home.' And old Chaffy carried on digging and pulling up weeds.
Ooty wandered off into the flowers to do some gardening of his own.
'Dolly.' Jenny whispered. 'I've put a basket behind your shed. Ma said please can you do the supper round tonight when it gets dark and not before. Ma said you're the only one she trusts not to eat it all, but it's only leftovers today because she's too busy.' Dolly gave Jenny a lovely smile but her lipstick had melted in the hot sun and had run down her chin.
'Here's a present for you.' Jenny whispered 'It's for doing lipstick.' and she put the butterfly compact in Dolly's dress flap. All the little clockaclays had gone out, flying around chasing the mayfid diddy things. Dolly was beaming when Jenny skipped off towards home. Ooty appeared from under the hedge and raced ahead of her down the footpath. Jenny watched him bouncing along and thought, yes, Ooty was starting to look like a little black nelephan – too many sardines.
Ma had invited Creamy to stay for a few nights as Creamy didn't want to be alone. After tea Ma and Creamy had lots to talk about so Jenny and Ooty went into the sitting room for the evening and put the radio on. Jenny got out her tin of paints and some sheets of paper. She sat the Jumble sale doll on the floor in front of her to practise painting faces.
After a while old Jackdaw turned up. Reverend Daws had come to chat with Creamy. Ma joined Jenny in the sitting room. She plopped down on the sofa and looked at Jenny's paintings.
'You are a clever little wren.' she said. 'These faces are lovely, so neat and pretty, the eyes are beautiful, not wonky at all.'
'Thanks Ma.' said Jenny. 'I want to practise getting them right so I don't mess it up when you show me how to make my first scarecrow.'
Ma grinned. 'I'm not very good at painting faces am I Jenny? The Pole sister’s eyes are all a bit wonky. My sister Bluebell is wonderful at it, you should see her gang, like film stars they are.'
Jenny had a funny image pop into her head of famous film stars posing for photographs all dressed in Tatty old patched clothes with funny hats on.
'I've had a chat with the robins.' whispered Ma
'They think you'll be ready by Christmas to try making your first real scarecrow. Only a small one mind you, nothing too adventurous. Our gang is already a hand full to look after.'
Jenny leapt on the sofa and hugged Ma.
'Oh Ma I promise I won't mess it up, I really promise...but... there's still something I don't understand Ma. When you make scarecrows how do they come alive and move and talk and everything.'
So Ma put her arms around Jenny and told her the very top secret story of the scarecrows.
'It's all to do with robins and something magical that happened right here in this village many hundreds of years ago.' said Ma.
'Before there were any scarecrows in the world, robins were just plain little brown birds, a bit like sparrows. When the farmers sowed the seed in their fields, the biggest birds would swoop down and grab what seed they could and greedily scoff it all down. The little birds didn't stand a chance of getting their share and soon some of the smallest ones were dying through lack of food. One day, a little starving male robin, who was just trying to get a few tiny seeds, was attacked by a flock of huge crowbies who pecked him so viciously over and over again, pulling the feathers from the little robin's breast, that the poor little robin lay dying in the field with his breast all torn and bleeding. The other robins flew down and sadly picked up their little friend and carried him to the home of a very wise lady to see if she could save his life.'
Jenny loved stories, especially true ones, 'Go on Ma, what happened next, please don't say the poor little robin died?'
'Oh no' said Ma,' the wise old woman nursed the robin well again, but try as she might, she couldn't remove the red blood stain from his breast. Being a very wise woman, she asked the robin for one of his remarkable breast feathers. Then she set about making a figure from bundles of twigs and straw.
'Receive this rare and precious gift from the robin' she said to the straw man 'And in return, chase away the crows when they get too greedy and allow the robins and the other little birds to have their fair share of the spare seed.' Then she made a tiny hole in his chest with her finger and pushed the robin's red stained feather deep inside the straw man. The straw man immediately sat up and promised the wise woman he'd always watch over the robins and scare away the greedy birds.
From that day to this there have always been scarecrows in the world and robins have always had red breasts.'
'Wow.' said Jenny. 'So that's why you always see robins sitting on scarecrows.'
'Of course.' said Ma. 'Every robin likes a good old natter with a hodmedod. They often build their nests in them too because they know the scarecrow will always keep their eggs safe. That's the reason Tattie Bogle's top hat never comes off. My Mother cut a round hole in it and glued it on tight so the robins can nest inside it. It’s a birdhouse hat really.'
Jenny was thinking it all over carefully.
'So, anyone could make a scarecrow if they find a red robin's feather then Ma.'
'Well they could.' said Ma 'but red robin's feathers are the rarest feathers to try and find and then the scarecrow still wouldn't talk or move.
'Why not Ma?'
'Because only people chosen by the robins can become real scarecrows makers. You are very special my little wren. The robins chose you over all the other children. You are going to be a wonderful scarecrow maker because you already have the most important thing you need. A kind and loving heart.