Flapping his arms at a distant part

Flapping his arms at a distant partridge on a chilly autumn morning, the graduate employed as a human scarecrow might seem a desolate symbol of contemporary austerity.

But Jamie Fox has brought a ukulele, a sketch book and some podcasts to pass long days in the field, and the cheery resolution of a young graduate determined to make the best of what appears to be the ultimate dead-end job.

The 22-year-old music and English graduate is not remotely depressed by his stint in a field of oil-seed rape outside Aylsham in Norfolk. "This is much better than being at home on unemployment benefit," he says. "If I'm reading a book or playing an instrument, time passes and there are moments that are fantastic."

He must walk up and down the field on the tramlines created by the tractor wheels to scare the birds, and also spends his time on a patch of bare earth where the birds destroyed the crop before he arrived.

Ringing a cowbell and dressed in a high-vis jacket, with thermal trousers and three pairs of socks to ward off the bitter wind, Fox has so far seen off six birds – partridges and pheasants – this morning. "I watched a squirrel for a while," adds Fox. "Apart from the phone calls, it's been quite tranquil."

The story of the graduate bird-scarer has raced around the world since the local paper got wind of Fox's temporary job, and despite a ropey rural mobile signal, he has fielded calls from dozens of radio stations and newspapers. Nearby farms have also been plagued with calls wanting to know about "the human scarecrow".

"I sound like a superhero," says Fox. "If I'd aspired to become well known I could never have imagined in my wildest dreams it would be through a story like this."

After graduating from Bangor University this summer, Fox returned to his family home in Aylsham and set about saving up for a trip to New Zealand. After doing a bit of casual labouring for William Youngs, a local farmer, he was woken one morning by Youngs, who said he had a job requiring a book and a deckchair.

Working from 7.30am to 4pm on the minimum wage, Fox must be "the partridge bouncer" and do anything he likes to scare them off the succulent young shoots.

Fox has been playing the birds his ukulele, and learning how to play the concertina, as well doing sudokus, watching deer and daydreaming. "You just have to use your imagination really," he says. What about singing to the birds? "I don't want to kill the partridges," he says.

The job is only for two or three weeks, which makes it more tolerable, but will also require Fox to start looking for work all over again. Other university friends "have been unfortunate" in struggling to find jobs but "you never know what hand life will deal", says Fox phlegmatically, "and you've got to take every opportunity you find".

Fox is consoled by the fact that previous human scarecrows have risen far in the world. George Edwards, another Norfolk boy, went to work, aged six, in the mid-1850s scaring crows for 5p a week. Edwards later formed an agricultural workers' union, spoke out against the oppression of rural labourers and when he became Labour MP for South Norfolk in the 1920s had to borrow a suit when he first entered Westminster.

Fox has no political aspirations but ultimately hopes to become a genealogist while also composing piano sonatas. "I'd love to have a piano out here," he says. "If anyone could donate one and deposit it in the corner of the field, I'd be very grateful.