Comic Strip Characters in the Farmyard

Everything about guineas looks exaggerated. Their backs are too humped, their heads too peaked, their feathers too spotty, their noises too loud, their running too impulsive and too aimless, their parenting too casual. I wonder what God was thinking when he made guineas.

By all appearances their brain is too small. When we first bought keets (baby guineas), we got about twice as many as we hoped to end up with. That turns out to have been about right. We initially bought twelve, and now have seven. Except that before we bought twelve, we were given three, and Hiromi bought three more in November. So the ratio is more nearly one live to every two dead. Our revised rule: Buy three times as many as you hope to end up with.

The three that Hiromi bought most recently were adults. And No sir. We do not want to share our space with any newcomers. The oldsters pecked and chased and intimidated the new ones ruthlessly. Hiromi let the old ones out every morning and didn't let them back in until evening, after the new ones had had time to eat and flee to roost on the upper shelves in the greenhouse.

More recently, sometimes Hiromi lets them all out. When he does, we regularly see a group of four chasing the new group of three till the new ones take refuge on a tree branch. Pitter pitter --feet pumping up and down, those pith-helmet-shaped bodies glide along in a beeline till the tiny brain signals an abrupt change in direction. The helmet pivots, and, head down, they make another beeline.

Hiromi claims the old ones and he have a good understanding, that he is now a master of guinea psychology. The guineas follow him around when he's outdoors, even when he's tricking them into doing something they wouldn't want to do if they knew his intention--like when he goes to feed the sheep, and they follow him in hopes of getting some stray grain. Meanwhile the new guineas dart inside the greenhouse to tank up on feed while their molesters are away. After a suitable interval, Hiromi walks toward the greenhouse and they follow him right in through the door where he shuts them in for the night.

We're hoping that next spring's breeding season replenishes our guinea supply. Someone told Hiromi that the males are the ones that incubate guinea eggs. "No wonder they don't have any sense about taking care of their babies," I said. Frankly, I doubt the wisdom of Hiromi's informant. I can't find that information anywhere else. But everyone agrees that, left to themselves, guineas are likely to successfully raise only a very small percentage of their offspring to adulthood. Given the fact that they are very furtive about the location of their nests, any guineas that are allowed to roam are unlikely to have their egg clutches discovered. While they incubate them, the mate may stand guard, but he (that's what I think the guard is) abandons his post to go roost in the henhouse overnight when the hen needs his protection the most. They're not only poor parents; they're negligent mates too.

Grasshopper eating is the one saving grace of guineas. And for that service, we tolerate all their foibles. That, and their entertainment value. Maybe that's what God had in mind when he made these comic birds.