Blueberry Hill Farm

OK, finally the promised news concerning Guinea, one of the newest additions to the chaos and bedlam here at the farm.  My chum, Bradley Fox, brought me two guineas the last time he was here delivering to me fifteen "point-of-lay" Leghorn hens.  Leghorns are white egg layers and I have missed not having enough white eggs to include a couple in each carton.  My favorite assortment of eggs in each carton is four brown, two blue/green, two white, four brown.  Is it obvious to everyone by now that there is some kind of issue going on here?

Anyway, I had told Bradley the last time I was at his farm that I'd like to have some guineas, so he brought me a male and female.  Alas, somehow in transport, the female's leg was broken, so Bradley was going to take her back with him and . . . The first night at the farm, Guinea marched into the back coop along with the new hens.  That was on Tuesday.  Wednesday morning when I went out to chore up, Guinea was on the outside of the 8' fence surrounding the back pasture trying frantically to get back in.  It has always been a conundrum to me that said birds that manage to fly over the fence to get out can never seem to remember how to fly back in.  So, being the loving and caring farmgirl that I am, I set out to rescue Guinea.  This is done with great sacrifice on my part, because it is a royal pain in the patooie to get outside and to the very back of the compound.  There is lots of poison ivy, briars, snake nests, etc, that one has to trudge through to get back there, but I did it and spent a good deal of time coaxing, begging, threatening, chasing, etc, that darn guinea, trying to catch him so he could be reunited with the other foul fowls.  To no avail.  Finally, I faced the fact that Guinea would be eaten before the day was done and I had just lost the ten bucks I paid for him.

Amazingly, Wednesday morning he was still alive and still trying to get back into the fortress.  I had to go out of town for the evening, so didn't have a great deal of time to fool with him, but I did go out and try to lure him into the compound.  After this second, and I might add, final attempt to be a loving and caring farmgirl, I finally said "Fine, you stupid bird.  Get eaten" and sadly accepted Guinea's probable fate. 

On Thursday, Guinea flew back over the fence and decided he would be the self appointed guardian of the broiler chicks.  Great!  For two weeks he watched over the five pens of broilers as if they were his own children, fretting each time I moved the pens, making sure everyone was well fed and sounding many alarms. 

Then, Guinea flew back out of the compound.  Why?  Was it boredom?  Was he overwhelmed by the task he had taken on for himself?  I had tried to express my gratitude for the fine job he was doing.  For the next two days he again tried frantically to get back in.  I did not try to rescue him.  On day three, he flew back over the fence and resumed his guard duties.  I wonder how he's going to handle it when three of the pens become empty this weekend?  Guess I'll find out.

The long and short of it is that I LIKE Guinea.  He's a cool dude.  I love the many different sounds he makes and he's just a comical character.  He's just another instrument to the orchestra, so to speak. I think I'd like to have a peacock or two . . .