Since 2012 I have blogged about my guineafowl. The ups and downs, and the nightly attacks, the baby keets and their rearing. This year began with 2, we are now down to 1. A recent owl attack brought down the male companion to this last, lucky (or not so lucky) survivor. By day he joins my last chicken hen, the scrappy, fast footed hen that outlived all others, at night he is back up in a tree.
But there will be no more guineas or chickens, it has been decided. I could go on forever with raising baby keets, or so I think and then come the worrisome, horrible cold winter nights. Not to forget the females that sit on nests for such a prolonged period only to die with their eggs and protective husband, taken out by raccoon, fox or some such night marauder.
When the surrounding farms were destroyed for suburban homes, the foxes all moved here and our guinea and chicken numbers plummeted. Last night I heard the low hoot of a great horned owl, and he is nearby, living on this farm. When the last guinea dies, it will be a silent night, I'm pretty certain. The guinea cries come from the ones that are left behind, the witnesses.
What is typically found in the daylight of morning is a swath of feathers. That future morning will be the last chapter and I will not be sorry that I lived 6 years with guinea antics. Those years have been largely tick free, at least at my home ground, the reason we brought them here in the first place.
Good luck to others that persist in raising the most interesting birds that have the ability to steal your heart. Those incredibly personable guineafowl that do their best to survive against all odds.
P.S. tonight the guinea voluntarily joined the chicken in her small coop to sleep the cold night away, now that's a first!
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