Guinea Fowl Days

We are strange creatures who inhabit this planet, not just us humans…

Two days ago an injured guinea fowl flew into our garden. She was terrified, traumatized and the exhaustion oozed from her. Most of her tail feathers were missing and her one claw was crushed and broken. She struggled on one leg, trying to hop to safety. She hovered on the garden wall desperate to find a place to rest. A male guinea fowl flew up along side her. His wing feathers went up and he charged. She flapped off the wall, crash-landed on the grass and hobbled her way across it to the safety of the hibiscus. She has spent the last week slowly regaining her strength, though her poor leg troubles her no end. We can’t catch her and to try would traumatize her further. So I leave food and water out for her – though the ravening hordes of doves are quick to get to it first. I talk to her, letting her get used to my voice, accustomed to my presence. She reamains nervous, frightened, won’t tell me her name - but there is safety for her in the garden – provided I can keep the neighbour’s sodding cat at bay… He and I will have words yet – further words. Mine will be simple: “Swim!” Trouble is he knows my intent and I know he knows. Too smart by half, cats. Still, so far I’ve chased him away with a flea in his ear. I’m one big mother guinea when the going gets tough.

But as my small charge heals and strengthens herself, I am struck by the behaviour of other guinea fowl. One lone male periodically watches over her. Others simply ignore her and a few dominant males terrorise her. In some ways it is as though she has ceased to exist in the guinea fowl world. You can see she craves their company, tries to be among them, sits lonely but accepting when they go (or is that just me anthropomorphizing…). But it’s those who attack her that madden me. She scuttles from them, hides, cowering in the shrubbery, crouching down as a subservient dog would do.

I wish there was more I could do, but I know she holds her own wisdom. She seeks out the sunny spots, takes cover when it rains. She’s started to eat again and to sip at the water. She knows she’s in a safe space though she remains wary of everyone and everything. She knows she has to learn to be in this new one-legged way, and she’s taking her time, resting when she must, eating when she’s hungry, preening her feathers, staying warm when she can. This morning she even spoke to me, and that must be a good sign.

Whether she will ever be accepted into a flock again, who knows. Whether she will always be terrorized by others – I don’t know. Nature has its own ways, the ill and the weak are left to die - yet this bird holds her own strength and Mother Nature seems content with that. Moreover, soon Mother Nature will be getting broody and new guinea fowl will be ready to come into the world. The cycle of guinea life.

And I suppose at least it’s not as bad as the case of the Jacana birds – the female of the species when seeking a new mate, destroys the eggs of his original mate, tossing the hatchlings out to die. It’s her way of initiating a come on... And I thought us humans were a strange and wicked lot...