Good intentions collide with dumb birds on a small farm in Pennsylvania.
by Mark Bowden
The Great Guinea Hen Massacre
I live on a small farm in Oxford, Pennsylvania, and this summer my wife, Gail, and I decided to install on our modest acreage a flock of guinea fowl.
Birds are colorful and entertaining, worthy of cultivating for their own sake, but we had a darker purpose. Guineas eat deer ticks. Like every unpaved acre in this part of the world, our property harbors an ever-growing herd of white-tailed deer, and is thus infested with the little Lyme disease-carrying arachnids.
In the world of tick, we were assured, guinea hens are feathered hell.
They arrived in early June as chicks, 25 of them, each small enough to fit quivering in the palm of one hand.
They quickly grew into rambunctious and noisy keets, and by the end of August were about the size and shape of rugby footballs, wandering our property in a chattering flock.
There were whites, royal purples, pearls, and lavenders. All sorts of grotesque wattles and other growths popped out of their heads, above and below their orange beaks, but they had lovely plumage.
The pearls, in particular, are so named because their dark-gray coloring shows off an even spray of white specks.
One stood out. From birth, this bird was fearless. Whenever Gail or I would show up to change their water or clean their box in our bathroom, the birds would form a writhing, screaming mass that tried to merge itself into the far corner, or become invisible.
This one, a pearl, whom we named Luke, after Cool Hand Luke, would sit alone on the top perch and eye us up and down, as if to say, ``You again?''
He would sometimes fly out of the box and strut around the bathroom, and when we stooped to pick him up, he didn't even try to get away.
We figured he was either the world's smartest guinea fowl or the stupidest--the latter distinction being highly competitive.
When they became too raucous, and started tearing apart their jury-rigged indoor cardboard nest, we built a coop in the yard. Actually, less of a coop than a poultry condo, complete with a 14-foot ceiling and five roosting levels.
The coop was roughly 20 times as expensive as the birds, but once you have hand-raised a flock, you have a harder time abiding the idea of a fox, dog, raccoon, or feral cat digging its way into your birds' lair and turning them into a poultry smorgasbord.
We have plenty of wild predators on our farm, and even if we didn't, we have a Jack Russell named Duey who, beneath his puppy-like cuteness, is a ruthless serial killer.
Put it this way: Duey once saw a chicken. Seconds later, the bird was no more. Duey 1, Chickens 0.
Make that Duey 2, Poultry 0, since he nailed one guinea when Gail left the door to the coop open behind her for an ill-advised split second.
The Jack has ever since been biding his time, nose pressed to the screen. Mind you, dogs are especially good at biding their time.
Guineas have four modes: eating, sleeping, chattering, and screaming in terror. Chicken Little had some guinea in her.
Here's what you need to know about a flock: it has no idea what is happening, it is scared of everything, it makes noise constantly, and its long-term memory is about five seconds.
You may note a resemblance here to how news disseminates on the Internet and cable TV.
Communication among flock members is very simple. In English, it would go something like this:
``I'm okay.''
``Me, too.''
``Good over here.''
``I'm okay too.''
``Wait!''
``What was that?''
``Oh, my God!''
``Oh, my God!''
``Oh, my God!''
``Look out!''
``Look out!
``Run!''
``Run!''
At which point they flee and flutter pell-mell. Unbridled terror lasts for just a few seconds, which is as long as it takes them to forget whatever it was that prompted the stampede.
The behavior repeats.
We let them out of the coop for the first time when they were about three months old, well past the recommended time.
At first they sensibly refused to step out--all except for Luke, that is, who promptly hopped into one of the pastures and started chasing our Andalusian mare around like he owned the place. It took the others a few hours to venture forth.
And then ... they ran off. Contrary to encouraging advice about the breed, gathered mostly from books and the Internet, which assured us that they would not stray far from their coop, they took off like a mob of unleashed teenagers, the whole flock of 23 (another, alas, had expired in the coop on the hottest day of August, prompting the installation of a fan).
They bore southwest and just kept on going, as if drawn by some poultry siren over the horizon, making their way across several broad Thoroughbred horse pastures, then across Route 472, and so on toward the setting sun.
After it became clear they were not planning to turn around, we made a heroic effort to herd them back, leaping tall fences, crossing the road, and, with curious horses peering over our shoulders, driving them before us with long sticks. The guineas were having none of it.
We gave up, and the guineas vanished.
Gail took it harder than I did. She is of the Bambi school, while I am more of a ``nature, red in tooth and claw'' person.
We had given it our best shot, I figured, and had succeeding only in serving a moveable feast to our neighborhood foxes, dogs, and hawks. Neither of us ever expected to see them again.
But, lo! Three days later, they were back, chattering away in our middle pasture, minus two.
One of the missing was Luke. We admire fearlessness, but it is a poor survival strategy. Not bad, all in all, I thought--only one fatality per night in the wild. The flock seemed chastened, and to have lost its appetite for wandering.
Temporarily.
Then came the great guinea-hen massacre.
We have a fairly large property, so the flock has many safe acres in which to roam, chatter, panic, and vacuum ticks.
But some madness, weeks later, propelled them once more to alien pastures. You would think that eons of evolution would have clued the guinea to Labradors.
But, no. Amber, the chocolate Lab in question, is an especially obedient and friendly dog. She never saw a human hand she wasn't eager to lick, and never strays from her own farm.
``She just tore into them,'' said Chuck, our neighbor and Amber's owner, who witnessed the slaughter and came away shocked by the flock's stupidity. ``I kept thinking they would try to get away,'' he said.
Chuck found four carcasses, and five other birds just vanished, either down Amber's gullet or felled by sheer terror in the high weeds.
The rest returned, an even dozen--less than half of those we raised. Duey is still biding his time. Gail is afraid to let them out of the coop.
At night, mixed in with the usual racket of tree frogs and katydids, I swear I can hear deer ticks out there, laughing at us.
posted
My father-in-law decidecd to bring guinea fowl
to our farm. He originally got one male and a
few females. He put their food in a shed and
showed them where it was. They answered
with "Thanks, but we're out of here."At this
point I believe the ticks were laughing. They
disappeared into the nearby neighborhood and I
was sure they were gone for good. I made a truly
funny wanted poster with their faces drawn on it
including numbers under their faces as though
they had "mug shots". They appeared a few days
later and I swear they waved as they continued
on their journey. Days later, minus one keet,
they passed through again. This was their final
appearance. So much for time #1.
Time #2. My father-in-law decided we would need
more guinea keets since they tend to be better
at flock subtraction than addition. He purchased
two or three dozen eggs and incubated them. They
hatched well and went through their baby stages
blissfully. Again, he decided to "free range"
them. Mind you, this was a colossal failure the
first time, but perhaps these had read the keet
manual and knew they were supposed to stay put.
Miraculously, more lived than died and we had a
flock of about two dozen. The ticks probably got
new passports. They are incredible tick vacuum
cleaners!!! They ran all over the property and
things seemed to be working out okay. Then each
day we would lose one, then one more and so on.
These animals have a true death wish. They were
not my project, but I saw value in the idea of
housing them at night. Nope! I tried. Veto that
idea. The two dozen was down to about three or
four. Much like the original ones, they passed
through and wished us well. Eventually there was
only one. SHe slept in mud puddles after the
rain. No kidding! Bright, huh? Somehow she
managed to live and we saw her every now and
then. One day when Dad was not around she
returned with a string of twelve to fourteen
bitty-bitty keets following behind her. I took
their picture so that I could be believed. I
thought this would be a wonderful chance to have
a flock again. Perhaps we could even keep them
up at night. Nope! I again witnessed that the
only math they are good at was subtraction. The
fox population should have at least sent a thank
you note! Months later we heard neighbors speak
of the weird birds that trapsed across their
property. Gee, I wonder what they were!
p.s. We now have a rooster named Leo(Leonardo
DaVinci). Leo sleeps high up in a spruce tree
near the house. He has a perfect vantage point
to see many of the house windows. If you get up
in the middle of the night for a bathroom call
and turn on the light..."cock-a-doodle-doo"...
Leo thinks it is morning!
I need to tell you guys about the free range turkeys and the door to door preachers, but this post is getting LONG! PB
Posts: 78 | From Maryland | Registered: Jun 2009
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Tincup
Honored Contributor (10K+ posts)
Member # 5829
We are farmers. About five years ago we were raising turkeys for Thanksgiving. When they learned to fly/stumble out of their poultry net fence, hubby said they were "free range".
I knew that it was for a limited time, so looking out for "presents" from 30+ turkeys became a way of life.
Turkeys are actually very nice birds and it was not unusual to see one of my kids with a flowered necklace and crown sitting next to a turkey with the same decorations. No kidding!
One day two men appeared at my door. The had on crisp, dress shirts under their freshly dry cleaned suits. They both had on wind tip shoes. I was doing housework, so in my "country bumpkin" attire I answered the door.
I was fully ready to say that I didn't want to buy anything when they greeted me SO warmly. They were smiling and holding their little brochures. I bet their mamas thought they were just 'pretty as a picture.'
The Alpha preacher introduced himself and his colleague. They were from a new church in the area. As they handed me a brochure they asked me if I knew the Lord.
**Now this isn't meant to be sacreligious or anything, because I know Him and put my trust in Him.**
When the preacher asked if I knew the Lord I said yes and they smiled at each other approvingly. I said do you mind if I ask you something.
The Alpha Preacher stood up like a proud rooster. He was surely waiting for a great theological question from this poor little housewife. The I said...
Do you know that you have turkey poop on those wing tipped shoes? It was everything I could do to keep from rolling on the ground laughing! Had I done that he might have thought I was from another denomination!
Alpha and Junior looked at their shiny wing tips and looked up with big eyes. I almost wanted to apologize, but I never asked them to visit. No seminary had ever prepared them for this.
They wished me a good day and walked away from my house. They looked like they had invented a new dance as they tried to scrape one side of their shoes on the grass. Then the other side.
I'm sure they probably found great potential in the internet after that. I meant to ask them if they would like to meet my draft horses!!!!!!
PB Posts: 78 | From Maryland | Registered: Jun 2009
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posted
PB - check it out - I bet they changed the curriculum -
D'yaalllll know? Ah sayed, d'yaalllll know 'bout dem liddl off'rin's on de goodearth where we go out preachin' de Gooood Werrrd?
Jus' de way alllll God's creachas show thar graaaaate appreeeciayshun an' respectte fo' de Goooood Book - jus' dooon't dropit dere...an' doo rememba to briiing alonnng some liddl-off'rin' wipessss...
[ 11-13-2009, 04:04 AM: Message edited by: Robin123 ]
Posts: 13171 | From San Francisco | Registered: May 2006
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