Update on the Farming Friends – Cottage Smallholder Interblog Guinea Fowl Event. Gentle beings.Posted by Fiona Nevile in Guinea Fowl | 10 comments
June 2007 saw the launch of the Farming Friends’ – Cottage Smallholder’s Interblog Guinea Fowl Event. Looking back at the guinea fowl posts this is a well rounded cycle. Amazing highs and lows and even tears. Everything started here when Sara at Farming Friends sent us six guinea fowl eggs in the post
I love my guinea fowl. They are gentle docile beings. Hanging about in a group, they communicate constantly with one another. I went down at dusk on Saturday to lay some gravel in the gluey, muddy run. They had settled in the chicken house for the night and I could hear them reassuring each other with gentle, attentive cheeps. Even when I started raking the gravel they didn’t revert to the raucous shrieks that would wake Sleeping Beauty. As I locked the gate and walked away the soft, comforting cheeps continued.
Laying a surface of gravel makes life in the run a bit more fun. It has scratchability. And Mrs Boss’ and Mrs Squeaky’s feathered feet don’t get clogged up with mud. Even chickens and guineas don’t want the Glastonbury mud without the music. And it’s easier for me when I venture in to check all is well and top up the food and water.
This morning I decided to give them a good pre Christmas spring clean. The shortest day of the year is approaching. I wanted the nesting box to be luxuriant with thick and tempting nests of hay – to attract all hens. Once ensconced in the deluxe suite they might consider laying an egg.
A decent clean out takes about 20 minutes. I give the flock some wild bird seed to distract them as I potter to and fro. I tipped the ice from the lid of the storage barrel to access the hay. Eventually the guineas finished the bird seed and ranged about the run with Mrs Boss in tow.
Suddenly I heard a weird noise. A strange high tinny reverb that was repeated again and again. I had my head in the hen house. A child must be playing with a small, supple metal spring on the other side of the fence. I was intrigued and all my Mrs Mop chores were abandoned. I crept along the run to investigate.
A flurry of guinea fowl caught my eye. They were closely examining the shards of ice on the ground. The weird sound was emanating from this group.
“Pring ing ing ing ing ing” appears to be Guineafowlese for, “What is this?”
Clearly a versatile comment it also seems to mean, “I haven’t a clue.”
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