Tag Archives: missing

Then there were eight – nine

Last night when I yoohooed Galahad and crew in to the open greenhouse door, I was horrified.  Only eight keets came with him!  He did his doorway pause, and satisfied, he went in and they proceeded to shuttle up to their perch.  But!  You’re missing two!  Where are they?!

A white and a grey one were missing.  I came upon the grey one hunched in the weeds nearby.  Immediately I knew he was hurt, and when I tried to coach him to the door, he demonstrated a limp on the right side, and more alarmingly, deliberately avoided the greenhouse door, instead fleeing from me and then settling down in a hen tent.  Alright, I thought, I’ll get him from there later when the sun goes down.  Guineas are super dopey after dark.

That’s terrible!  They were doing so well, how can two be lost in one day?  At least this one with the lower body injury can be saved.  I just need to get him inside and into rehab.  It’s been awhile since there’s been a rehab bird in the house.

After dark, no guinea!  Gone.  I flashlight searched for quite a while.  Vanished.  That’s it for him, I thought.  A raccoon showed up two days ago.  I hoped to maybe see him come out of the woods in the morning.

This morning, no keet.  This afternoon, no keet.  Now there is a family of Galahad +8.  No keet all day.

Until close up time!  There he was, hunched near the healthy flock.I got the bird catching hoop net and pursued. He was limping even harder than the previous day, but still gave me a good chase, and the rest witnessed up close the whole capture and disentangling and removal, so I wasn’t sure Galahad would ever trust me again, but so far so good.

I carried the hurt keet home and stuck his head in a hat, so I could inspect his injury.  He laid there perfectly still for a long and thorough palpating, and continued to lay there long past the inspection.  I just live in this hat now.

I couldn’t find anything wrong!  No bone breaks or skin breaks – it’s a mystery.  But perhaps, like Sprout, it will show up later with swelling.

Now the keet is in an Ikea EKET organizational solution (lidded felt box), sans hat, with victuals and electrolytes.   Finally silent after mounting a thumping, pecking, escape attempt.  I know, it’s super weird to be in a box in the house, and guineas really really hate being contained in anything, but it’s for your own good!  Drink your aspirin water!

The Lady of the Woods

Paranoid about the tragic  loss of Blondie mom, I got downright defeatist over the disappearance in the morning of a guinea cock.  What the?  A guinea cock?  It must be a raptor, snatched him off the coop.  What am I going to do, sit out there all day with a rifle?  Predator problems, just as the guineas are hatching!?

Inside the sky coop, there are chicks.  I can’t tell how many!  Five?

Psycho cobra mom hurls herself at the screen, and the little chicks who sometimes peek out the screen door scurry to the back of the coop, so I don’t know how many there are.

I’ve been nudging bowls of food and water inside the door, and mom doesn’t care why I’m reaching in, she means to take my arm off for it.  Beak to arm: whackwhackwhackwhackwhackwhack! 

Three times a day, so no one gets dehydrated. When they’re empty, I hear her pecking and clanking the dishes together in there.  Sounds like a busy diner.

I quickly learned to tie a string onto the bowls so I can pull them back out instead of reaching in for them.

She’s got no problem eating the food, once I back off, but cut me a break for the delivery?  No way! 

Definitely five

The guinea cocks gave away the hatching.  When we first saw the telltale eggshell, we both said “I knew something was up!” For the previous two days, the three guinea cocks were extra attached to the coop.  Sitting on the roof, looking in, even in the middle of the day.  I think they were excited.  They haven’t stopped, they are animated and keeping close to the new mom.

 

Gazing through the screen door.

But now, only two.  The third, gone all morning.

What’s this?  The guineas were hollering, as they do, and it was sustained, long enough for me to check on them, and I go and Oh!  There he is, coming out of the woods.  I count, yep, three… wait… I count again.  Four.   I check that the screen door isn’t breached.  Four!

No way!  The hen that disappeared two months ago is marching out of the woods, just like I hoped!  With her proud and loud escort, klaxoning the whole way.  He was missing half the day because he went to walk her home, and the others stayed with coop mom!  I’m sure that the cocks have always known where she set, and have been regularly visiting her her whole term.

But does she have chicks?

There she is, very furtive, and yes, there are chicks!  At least two!

She spent all that time, all those rainstorms, no shelter. No snack boxes.  She’s not even acting ravenous.

A triumphant homecoming for the Lady of the Woods.  She came right back to the old digs, hanging around under the sky coop.  The guineas are very familial.  The cocks are very much part of the parenting team.

The chicks are so tiny it’s hard to believe they’re making woods treks already.  They tumble out of the grass and then toddle back in, and don’t stay right with mom.  They’re comfortable getting a ways away..  They are very quiet peepers, unlike a chicken chick that will get piercing (they make up for that later in life).

Also, the attack mom is even more terrifying when she’s not in a box.  She charges like a bull, with no fear.  The wings go up in this flat fronted wall of feathers, and then the red mouth open, and worst, the crazy look in her eye, coming at you!

I dared to walk within 8 feet of her brood and got run at.

Tomorrow, I will open the door to the sky coop, and let them all out into the world.

Eulogy for a dog

I have to just go ahead and post this…(this has sucked the life out of June/July)…

I wrote this the last day of May (but didn’t get round to posting it), after our best friend had been missing six weeks. As we were to learn later, May 31 was shortly after he would have actually died.  The awful circumstances of his death were far worse than I had imagined….(explained end of post).

Eulogy to the most beautiful Dog

I’m beginning to accept that he is gone for good.  Dead, somehow, somewhere.  Not just lost, misplaced, but lost, gone.

Devastating doesn’t really cover it.
It’s a terrible loss; he’s missing, everywhere, everything I do, since I used to do everything with him.
I haven’t really yet felt any grief.
I get to keep thinking, “but he’s so beautiful and friendly, maybe he’s ingratiated himself into someone else’s life and he’s fine. Someday he’ll escape and come back, or not.”  I want to believe that he’s fine, moving on to another phase of life that is hopefully comfortable for him.

So far his dog’s life was a hard, difficult life, thrice rescued/rejected as unmanageable, and  we did a good job with him, slowly. He was such a mental case at first that the first several, miserable (why did you want a dog?) months were just managing and controlling him, to establish his place as a dog.  At the end, it was getting interesting, once we were mutually attached and he was content and secure in his place, teachable and proud of learning.   We had come to a really good place with him.  He earned some trust by being obedient and predictable, and he was much much calmer.

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