Quill’s Quiet Pumpkin Count — Every evening, Quill the crow counted one pumpkin without landing. Read the full story →
Every evening, Quill the crow counted one pumpkin without landing. It was his little challenge: from the fence rail, spot a new round orange shape before the barn bell clanged and the air smelled of cold hay. He kept the number tucked in his head like a shiny pebble.
Until one evening, frost silvered the corn leaves early. Because of that, the farmer’s twins hurried through the rows, whispering, “Did we miss any?” Because of that, Quill saw the smallest pumpkin hidden under vines at the scarecrow’s feet, where no boot had brushed the leaves aside.
He could keep his perfect count secret. Instead, he hopped to the scarecrow’s sleeve and tapped—tok, tok, tok—then fluttered down to the hidden curl of vine. The twins found the pumpkin and carried it in before the frost bit hard. Quill flew back to the rail, his count unfinished but light as cloud-feather. Next time you see the crow on the scarecrow’s arm, can you tell which pumpkin he gave away?
