4 Feathers Farm

Bye-bye, guinea bird

 Last summer when we moved here, we bought 12 guinea chicks. Over the course of a few weeks, 11 were killed by the dogs wanting to play with them. The lone survivor has made it by himself all this time.

            Until today.

            That stupid guinea just couldn’t leave well enough alone. It made a habit of coming up on the front porch, eating cat food and pecking at the screen door. Nothing like hearing “bump, bump, bump” early in the morning. Besides that, it pooped all over the porch, firewood and now my wicker rocker Alex’s mother repainted for me. Everytime I went outside and saw that guinea on the porch, I’d holler, “Get on, guinea bird, before I put you in a frying pan!”

            Alex came home this afternoon and I said, “Can you shoot that guinea?”

            He took his .22 and all I could hear was that guinea scrambling along the roof of the shack. Alex said that guinea knew what was up. He shot it once and clipped it, but was able to grab it by the feet and put it quickly out of its misery.

            It’s now hanging up outside – the freezer! – and will get plucked tomorrow.

            Guinea bird, meet the frying pan!