Once I said to a scarecrow, “You must be tired of standing in 
this lonely field.”
  And he said, “The joy of scaring is a deep and lasting one, 
and I never tire of it.”
  Said I, after a minute of thought, “It is true; for I too have
known that joy.”
  Said he, “Only those who are stuffed with straw can know it.”
  Then I left him, not knowing whether he had complimented 
or belittled me.
   A year passed, during which the scarecrow turned philosopher.
   And when I passed by him again I saw two crows building a 
nest under his hat.