And yet they persisted…
Nine…there are still nine. Every single guinea fowl that hatched out late last summer and then magically appeared in my yard already half grown…every single one has survived. Not predators, nor traditionally poor Guinea parenting, nor cold, nor blizzards has defeated them yet. And so I despair…and yes, I fear.
Everyone else I know has “so much trouble” keeping their guinea fowl alive. It makes sense—they are a bird of the African savannah, domesticated and inbred just enough for them to lose most of their common sense and then placed upon farms of the Upper Midwest where they insist on living a semi feral lifestyle in a climate they are entirely unsuited for. I 100% understand why most folks have “so much trouble”.
But not me.
My guinea fowl are seemingly indestructible. I started with 3, they self-perpetuated themselves up to 17 in one year and after they harassed, harangued and generally acted like little hellion clowns towards all and sundry, I managed to catch and rehome the little pike-headed devil birds. My farm rule is if you make my life more worse than better, you are outta here (except our idiot dog Gus, he only seems to make life worse in most ways and due to dumb veterinary bills is the single “most expensive” thing I own—Gus is still here).
All but three…those three perpetually escaped me and short of catching them with the shotgun, they were staying on. After I caught their buddies, they didn’t come to the yard to roost (and this pick on everyone) and so I called a cease fire…until I realized I had a hen in the group. 🤦♀️
And so I resolved to keep them from reproducing…and was successful! Ever the hunter, I went 4 for 4 over the summer, finding their nesting spots and removing them. And then one day, all 3 vanished. I figured due to their insane life choices of roosting in the shelterbelt a full 250 yards from LGD protection, something finally ate them. 🤷♀️
Nope. They had gone out and somehow made more of themselves and casually trotted them into the yard one day…long past the age I could catch the babies on foot. And so then we had nine and there wasn’t diddly I could do about it. Oh were they smug.
And though I have no idea where they sleep or how they spend most of their time, they persist. We have had blizzards, ice storms, 50mph winds and subzero temperatures and nothing seems to stop them. I see their little German pickelhaube outlines trekking near and far, impervious to the elements, unafraid of the predators and completely indestructible in every way. Cockroaches and sewer rats step aside and meet your new Emperors of Immortality.