Kung Fu Guinea

It’s a sad tale, ‘tis true, but the fact is that the animals here on the Good Shepherd Farm have begun to fight back.

It all began back last spring, when the female Guinea decided to start a family. Now, the male Guinea was gung-ho for this idea. In fact, in his enthusiasm over being the MAN of the house, he abruptly began attacking everything and everyone that came anywhere near his cage, and his ‘wife.’

The wife laid over 20 eggs, and showed no sign of wanting to sit on them to hatch them, or keep them warm, safe, or dry. By this time, we were well into summer, and the eggs had begun to emit a decidedly sulphur-like odor. So, we carefully removed them from the nest and disposed of them out in the far end of the field. I checked each one, and none of them had begun to develop into the little baby Guinea keets as we had hoped. However, the female was not deterred from her business of starting ‘the little family,’ and so when she had deposited 9 more eggs into the nest we moved them over to Connie and Norm’s Ash Lane Farm. They have an old Buff Orphington hen that was decidedly ‘broody’ and she took over those little foster-eggs as though they had been hers to begin with. Oh, happy day. I would like to tell you that, if you want a hen to hatch out eggs, you can usually count on a either a Bantam hen or a Buff Orphington.

Now, for those of you who have no clue as to what a Guinea really is, the best way for me to describe one is this: it is a bird somewhat the size of a chicken, having a naked neck, and a sort of ‘helmet’ on the top of it’s head. They originated in Africa, and come in a lovely variety of colors, ranging from buff to chocolate, soft gray to lavender to dark gray, solid or pied. We have the Pearl variety, which has dark gray feathers, and each and every feather is covered with the most perfect little polka dots. They really are quite remarkable. However…..Except for the fact that they eat myriads of small bugs - including wood ticks - I cannot for the life of me understand why on earth anyone would want to keep them. For, a guinea emits a noise that could easily break the sound barrier. It is somewhat difficult to describe, but it is similar to a metallic rattling, horn bellowing, roaring, throbbing screech that appears to begin at their toenails and thereafter emits from their screaming beaks. This is called a ‘warning sound’ and can be set off by various dangers, such as: an airplane, flying high above the farm; a semi driving down the highway, ½ mile in the distance; a Yeti just passing through; one of us walking out to do chores; the television going on inside the house….




Well, the old hen hatched out 7 of the little guinea keets, and has successfully taught them how to speak ‘chicken.’ They understand her clucks and clicks, and I am sure that they love her with all the love that their little bird hearts can hold. It is all very sweet. But, going back to the Guineas…..

Don took pity on the pair, being cooped up in their little ‘chicken tractor’ all the time, so he decided to turn them loose this past Sunday. As luck would have it, Sunday was also the day that I decided to do all the mowing around the Yak pens and the barnyard. Soon into my mission, I became aware that each and every time I came close to the MAN, he would rush towards the lawn tractor, screaming his warning noise, and would try attacking either me or the mower. I yelled at him, but to no avail. Then, he began making dives at my foot and leg, and at one point I even took off my Croc sandal and shook it at him menacingly. This only made the situation worse.

It happened in the late afternoon, when I was nearly done with the mowing. I was driving alongside the hog pen, trying to miss the garden hose that was stretched out towards the garden. As I looked down and to my right, I could see my shadow. As I watched, mesmerized, another shadow flew up from behind me, and came directly towards my shadow-head. At that same instant, a powerful force nailed me right in the back of the head and nearly slammed me into the steering wheel. In fact, David Carridine-Guinea had sailed up off the ground, delivered a swift karate kick to the back of my head, and then karate-chopped both of my shoulders with his powerful wings.

I was stunned, to say the least. I just could not believe that this little sawed-off turkey wanna-be had attacked me. After all, I am about 30 times bigger than he is. At least. So I yanked off my Croc sandal again, jumped off the lawn tractor, and started chasing him all over the pig yard, yelling things that I will not dare to write down in this blog. And once again, this only made the situation worse. In fact, the situation is so bad that now, whenever I go out to do the chores, I have resorted to slinking alongside farm buildings and peering around corners before running across the open areas, feed bucket in hand. I can almost hear the “Mission Impossible” theme song playing in my head. I keep hoping that Guineas do not have a very long memory.

Ah well. There is always hope.