While driving just north of Gillette Wisconsin a few weeks ago, I noticed these harvest survivors huddling together out in a field. Stricken by their forlorn condition, I stepped across the roadside ditch. I did not set out to get involved that day, lest I sacrifice my professional objectivity, but like a good photo-journalist I was determined to take some great pictures. Guess what: Involved, I got!
moving down from the north end of the field! When they finally noticed me standing there they all suddenly stopped, and acted planted. While I was rooting around their feet to convince myself that I actually did see them 'walking', the sheafy group with leaves all akimbo in the next picture (below left) was apparently stalking me. They appeared from the south so suddenly that I jumped, but luckily pushed the shutter button and caught them in this gangsta pose. I certainly felt threatened, but held my ground, and when I said something about hot oil and popcorn they all took off running to the west. The next picture (below right) reveals that when they spread out and run fast, they appeared to be quite emaciated.
When I realized that one of them was hurt, I actually ran after to offer help (so much for my high journalistic intent to remain uninvolved).
This next photo (left) shows the injured one of course, but the final, enlarged shot, reveals so much more detail.
From right to left in the picture below you will see two adult stalks carrying their wounded or sickened row mate, while a third, probably a Doctor of Corn if the intelligent look on his leaves means anything, attends. Two shorter, perhaps younger siblings are looking on sympathetically, but slumping in helplessness. Heading quickly for the trees is the rest of the original group. Who can blame them for abandoning their friends? For all they knew, I was Orville Redanbacher in the flesh!