Guinea Hen in Spring

My male Lavender Guinea lost his love (to a hit and run) last fall.

and not wanting him to be alone all winter, I bought 3 pullets to keep him company through the cold winter.

       (hmmmmmmm . . . can't find photos of the common Guineas . . . but they are the darker gray kinds)

Well, one was hit by a car 3 weeks ago (and is recuperating in the horse trailer/guinea hospital) . . . but the other two have matured into squawky females who are not as tame as the Lavender male who was raised with his girl-friend in the house and on the back porch

(due to danger from a BIG, BLACK, GUINEA-EATING SNAKE who ate 4 of his siblings) 

This Lavender goes to prove the old adage "Familiarity Breeds Contempt" for he certainly has little respect for humans, especially in light of Springtime and two noisy girlfriends who have started canvassing the farm for nesting places (and constantly voice their opinions about the unsuitability of the neighborhood).  Probably due to his anxiety at not being able to provide higher-class housing for his mistresses, and partly due to his general disgust at humanity, (and partly due to his subservience to the testosterone coursing through his haughty, Guinea frame) this male Guinea has been quite dedicated to teaching me my "place" in the scheme of things here at the farm.

I am allowed to throw white millet in the morning and night . . . and to fill the water dish without fear of attack . . . but if I am non-chalantly roaming in the yard anywhere within sight of Mr. Lavender, he comes charging over and posturing . . . and as soon as my back is turned, will hit me on the back of the legs. 

preparing to attack

Now, mind you, the Guinea attack is not at all as painful or harmful as a rooster attack.  Without the spurs, the Guinea just whomps me a good one and postures for another hit . . . but it IS irritating . . . rather like being pestered by a giant gnat . . . and he's so quick that I have trouble making contact with return whomps or kicks.  In fact, if I raise my foot off the ground, he will come in for another charge . . . Honestly . . . talk about "biting the hand that feeds him."  But he makes me laugh and if I can get into a kind of syncopation with his rhythmic charges, I can manage to surprise him and give him pause . . . but the pause is usually just long enough for him to consider blind-siding me again.

The Lavender Guinea also has a habit of racing down the driveway with the dogs whenever a visitor arrives.
After the visitor parks his vehicle, Mr. Guinea proceeds to inspect the tires, being sure to neaten them up by nipping off any little rubber "hairs" on the wall of the tire . . . and then peering at himself in the shiny bumpers and hub-caps . . . (rather narcissistic in his little Guinea heart).

Sierra is a good girl . . . a Border/Aussie cross . . . and she takes care of all the critters here . . . so I wasn't surprised the other day when I saw her guarding an egg between her paws . . .

a GUINEA EGG . . . which she carefully carried around and protected from the other dogs.

Another sign of spring . . . Squawking, attack Guineas and abandoned Guinea children . . .

At this rate, there won't be any more Guineas running around the farm,

and to be honest . . . that's okay with me.