Chapter 2: The Scarecrow

It felt like hours before Mr. Jones was able to get the other birds off his tail. Tired from his sudden departure, he landed on a patch of dirt a few yards away from the cornfield. He put the mouse on the ground and went to a nearby puddle to lap up some water. The rodent dusted itself off and approached the crow.

"Thank you for saving me there, I thought I was about to be their feast!"

Mr. Jones took a break from the puddle, eyed the mouse, and went right back to drinking. The mouse let out a small cough.

"Well, um, my name is Rasputin." He helped out his paw.

Mr. Jones finished with his drink and gasped for a few seconds before staring at the mouse again.

"Well, Rasputin," he started towards the cornfield, "I have my own theories about it, but what do you know about the cornfield?"

Rasputin trailed behind the bird, miffed by the avian's apparent rudeness.

"Well, that scarecrow is the reason no one can go in there."

Mr. Jones looked down at him, an expression of both confusion and confirmation outlining his face. The bird looked back towards the field.

"I knew it had something to do with that dummy!" Any trace of seriousness the blackbird had was replaced with giddy glee. "I told Einstein it was that scarecrow! But no, that stupid oaf wouldn't listen to me!" He chuckled before abruptly stopping and returning his attention to the mouse. "How is it the scarecrow?"

Rasputin was baffled by the crow's sudden change in emotion. He regained his composure and proceeded toward the field, leaving the crow behind.

"One of the cats in the barn put it out there."

Mr. Jones caught up with Rasputin.

"How did a cat put up a scarecrow?"

"I haven't the slightest clue. One day it was only corn and the next day the scarecrow was there."

They were finally at the edge of the cornfield now, the scarecrow waving in the distance. Rasputin let out a huff. All the cornstalks on the edges were dead with the only good corn further in the field.

"All I know is that the scarecrow makes it impossible to enter the cornfield."

"I already knew that," Mr. Jones eyed the strawman, "and I already figured it was the scarecrow's fault. When you enter the cornfield you end up right where you started."

At that, Mr. Jones walked straight into the cornfield only to emerge where he had just entered.

"I just walked in a straight line, but I'm back out here again."

Rasputin moved past the crow.

"Maybe you're doing it wrong," he walked into the cornfield, "let old Rasputin show you how to do it!"

The mouse kept talking as he kept advancing in the cornfield.

"Rasputin!" Mr. Jones called out, taking to the sky. "How're you doing that?"

"Doing what?" the mouse responded, his voice still moving.

"Walking in the cornfield-" Mr. Jones was above the field, trailing the mouse's voice when he found himself flying away from the corn. Confused, he scanned the ground until he found Rasputin, who also exited the cornfield from where he entered. The crow flew down to the mouse.

"How were you making it that far?" Mr. Jones hopped in excitement as he asked his question.

Rasputin scratched his chin. "I haven't the slightest. I was talking about who-knows-what when you mentioned the cornfield-" he clapped his forepaws together. "Aha!"

"What is it?" Mr. Jones was still hopping about.

"It wasn't until the mention of the cornfield did I find myself leaving it. Before then, I was so preoccupied with my own thoughts that I wasn't really thinking about the corn."

Mr. Jones stopped hopping.

"Maybe that's it! We can only enter the cornfield if we aren't thinking about the cornfield!" he turned to face the mouse. "You need to try going in there again!"

"Why me?"

"Because all I can think of is the cornfield, and you can get lost in your own mind!"

"But now I'm also thinking of the cornfield, so that won't work."

"Oh trust me," –Mr. Jones pushed Rasputin back towards the field– "or my name isn't Mr. Jones!"

Dirt flew around Rasputin as he was pushed towards the tall plants in front of him. He couldn't remember what he was doing here or what was pushing him.

"Trust me," a voice came from behind, "just go in and grab anything that looks good!"

Rasputin wanted to turn around, but something compelled him not to. He took a step into the plants. He continued walking until he came onto something that was yellow. Actually, it was many small somethings. It was many small, yellow somethings all clumped together in a hard mass. Rasputin didn't know what it was but something about it did look good. And the voice behind him told him to come back with something that looks good. Mustering all his strength, Rasputin turned around and followed his footsteps, dragging the good looking thing behind him

After some time, Rasputin emerged from the cornfield holding a small ear of corn. Mr. Jones was ecstatic, and couldn't help himself from hopping around and cawing. Rasputin blinked and looked at the piece of corn he had been dragging. Of course, he thought, I found a piece of corn on the ground in the cornfield. He looked back at Mr. Jones and joined the bird in his hopping.

After the small celebration, Mr. Jones looked at the mouse.

"I knew we could best that stupid scarecrow!" He began to nibble on some of the corn. Rasputin joined him.

"How'd you know I would make it in there?" Bits of corn flew out as Rasputin asked his question.

"Hmm?" Mr. Jones looked puzzled as he swallowed, "I don't know, I just had a feeling about it."

Rasputin shrugged and continued eating.