On the farm in Northamptonshire where I was sent at the beginning of WWII, it was usual to put up two scarecrows each year in the big 10-acre field to keep the birds off the crops. They were made by the farm children in a traditional competition. As a London evacuee I was allowed to watch the work but not help. After judging, one was called ‘Can do’ and the other ‘Can’t do’ for some reason to do with where they were to be placed, either near the brow of the field or down at the bottom. The one at the top of the field was more likely to be blown down in any gale of wind. Then it was said that ‘Can’t do died up in the cornfield’. Presumably this had been going on for many years and had travelled to America with immigrants.
I did not take much interest in country traditions then, being much more keen on getting back to the more friendly folk in London, blitz or no blitz.