Found this short story on Jemima Pett’s blog:

There was a time, not so long ago, when deep dark things roamed the land. My grandmother said she’d lived through this episode, but she was given to tall tales, so who knows? It was my uncle that first told me the story, one night when the wind howled and we couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t sleep afterwards, either. I heard it later from another source, so it might be true.

The village had a witch, like most villages did those days. You went to see her if you had a cough, or pains, or spots, or a sliced finger from the harvest. Or your bread wouldn’t rise, or you wanted another woman’s husband. She had potions and salves for most things, and incantations for the rest. The witch lived in a tumbled-down shack on the edge of the forest, just up the hill from the waterwheel. Animals came and went, seeking food and friendship. They said other things visited at night, but no-one saw them.

This farmer went to see her because he was having trouble with his crops. Pigeons ate them, and then the crows. He wanted an incantation to keep them off. She showed him how to build a scarecrow instead, and he put it in his field and it did the job, and that was that. Almost…

To read the rest, click on the link below: