The next night was rainy and a bit bleak. In the morning when I released the sleepover chick, I hadn´t marked it, although we´d talked about banding it, to know which one was “our friend”.
HW did some out loud wondering whether we´d have another visitation. Jokes about discovering the good life in the house aside, maybe this little bird had an injury. A sprain? Perhaps it was having a hard time and the falling in the tank was a symptom, not cause.
In the evening, he closed the coops again and returned without remark. He climbed to the loft, where I was, then halted meaningfully at the top of the ladder until I looked up.
No way! There he was, holding a guinea chick to his chest, chick looking at me with neck stuck out, orange legs dangling.
The bird’s total comfort with the proceedings was the first clue this was the same bird. And now I will be wrapped in a towel and snuggled. Yes, please!
Wow! Night two! This time it had not gone for a swim and was only wet from the day´s rain, but it had been struggling to get up on the coop, and allowed HW to catch it (I don´t think it tried to get away very hard).
Same procedure: Wrapped in towel, hugged, pet on the head (same bumps on the head confirmed definitely same bird), encouraged to go to sleep. The chick was a little bit less tired tonight, keeping eyes open longer, but even more relaxed. Totally silent. Lounging.Like the previous night, I fell asleep with it and it woke me later by hopping up, then resisting my hey go back to sleep hand over top of it, and I put it back in the night box.
Now HW´s jokes about having a house guinea seemed a bit more real. Hmmm.