Dan's Papers - July 18, 2008

On a newly plowed, small farm lot at the southeast corner of 27 and Town Line Road, two unusual, Tim Burton-type figures have made an appearance. In the field, owned by one of the Schwenks (a long time farm family on the East End) stand two scarecrows, facing west, toward Town Line BBQ.

These scarecrows are interesting, first of all, simply because they are there, in full view - a rare sight in the Hamptons. But what's most intriguing about them is how well they are dressed.

They both seem to be male. One is in black - the New York uniform. He's wearing flowing, possibly knit black trousers that puddle fashionably at the cuff, a nonchalant long-sleeved black t-shirt, and a white baseball cap - a bold choice. It's the perfect outfit for the edgier Hampton benefits or club scene when you want to go against the grain of madras, seersucker, and pastel striped shirts.

The other scarecrow is sporty, in flowing, drawstring khakis and a fleece zippered pullover in fire-engine red, plus a blue baseball cap - very Americana in a hip, casual way, and just the right outfit for a clam bake, afternoon barbeque or tea dance.

Why would the farmer choose these clothes, rather than the typical overalls, checkered shirt and straw hat? Too Wizard of Oz? Driving by for the past week, I've looked to see if anyone is in the field so I could ask, to no avail. People told me that the Schwenk who owns the farm is a somewhat elusive character who does things his own way. Richard Hendrickson, a true Bridgehampton gentleman farmer, simply described him in his polite manner as "a little different." Hendrickson is from a long line of Halseys who have farmed the East End since the 1800s. He said that scarecrows were very common out here for centuries. "You start with two sticks, get an old hat - didn't matter, cap or felt hat, a jacket or a coat," he said. "The idea is to imitate a person working in the garden."

Maybe 100 years ago, but God knows you could not get away with that today. And therein lay a clue to the clothing. Sure, a century ago you might wear an old barn jacket or checkered shirt and felt hat while working in the garden. It was a common sight out here for members of the community, including birds. If I were a red winged blackbird and saw something like that in a pea patch, I'd assume it was a person.

But here we are in the Hamptons of 2008. Even a grackle knows most people out here don't dress like that - those birdbrains are surely registering our plumage just as we have taken note of theirs. So if we're going to try to fool birds with scarecrows, we must dress them in clothing that is, well, for the birds.

I would like to have discussed all of this with Schwenk. But I ended up following the recommendation of Mary Cummings of the Southampton Historical Society and went to Hendrickson, who lives near what was his farm on Lumber Lane on a homestead called "Canon Hill."

I called, he picked up. Said he'd be glad to talk to me but it had to be in person. "I have a one-word vocabulary on the phone," he said. "That word is 'What?'"

Hendrickson, a tall, lean man, was sitting in the shade of an oak when I arrived, and talked to him about scarecrows and their attire. He got up to show me what used to be his farm and is now an agricultural reserve. "I walk like I'm an old man and I'm only 96," he said. When we got a field of Timothy (or "horse") hay and field corn, he said, "Did you ever feel lucky?" He was referring to himself, as he now enjoys the rolling farm view without the work. "They can never build," he said, smiling.

We got to the topic of scarecrows. According to Hendrickson, scarecrows were common because of a practice that was very common among generations of East Enders.

"Everyone had family gardens, and that's mostly where scarecrows were used," he said. "It started in colonial times, through the Civil War, during the Depression. After the Depression a little money came along, it slowed down. But some kept it up - people who were hardworking. A conservative group - 'true Yankees,'" he laughed. "People started having them again around World War II."

Folks out here raised whatever the land would bear. "In colonial times, when everything was woodland, you planted corn, beans, peas, tomatoes, radishes, asparagus," said Hendrickson, who's kept a weather station for the government for 77 years, never missing a day. ("It's what I do for my country," he said.) Of his early countrymen, he said, "Oh, good lord, they were almost self-sufficient. Other than salt, they were pret' near self-sufficient. They raised things they picked and ate, put in a jar, put down cellar, or even in a field. They'd dig a trench in the field, bury cabbages - just put them in upside down with the root sticking out of the ground. Then in the winter if you wanted a cabbage, you went into the field and pulled it up. If the ground was frozen, you used a pick-ax. Yes, the outside leaves were no good, the stalk was no good, but take that away and you had a perfectly preserved cabbage."

But in the spring and summer and fall, when the crops grew, it was scarecrow time. "When crows or seagulls or purple grackles, red wing blackbirds would come down to pick your peas or peck a hole in your nice red tomatoes, scarecrows would scare them off. Yes it worked. It was 90% plus effective. The scarecrows got plentiful, especially in sweet corn patches. Clothing didn't really matter. Some of them had lighter-weight clothes, but you didn't want everything to flap around too much. The truth was, the nearer it acted like a person, the better. If you got it just right, and when you got a good southwest wind, the arm sleeve would move just a little. Nature made it more lifelike."

Hendrikson has neither a family garden nor a scarecrow these days. Besides, they wouldn't work against the most prevalent garden culprit. "The four-legged creatures," he said. "The deer! Scarecrows have no effect on them. And what? I'm not gonna put up a nine-foot deer fence for a few ears of corn."