Caught the guineas under the netting tent, finally. Went like clockwork. When I came out to serve supper a few were even perching on the clothes rack.
I said I was going to build them a perching rack like a fish drying rack, and HW said “Why don’t you just stick the clothes rack out there?” Why not.
I subtly herded the rest into the fence, which surrounds a scrubby patch all the birds like to hang out in, and closed them in with the last section of fence. I closed in more than the guineas, though. Three Silkies were in the fence too.
I had to hang out until they started looking for the exit, and lift up the fence for them to duck under. They slipped right out like it was prearranged.The guineas at first weren’t too fussed about being captive, but got increasingly noisy and agitated, yelling for half an hour and doing perimeter laps.
The netting isn’t visible, but it’s draped down to the ground on most of the edge, and tented up between the GH peak and a tall post, so I feel good about their safety now. I figure once they have a good night on the clothes rack, they’ll be back tomorrow night.
Meanwhile, inside the GH:
Progress?No. Backsliding. Empty coop. All birds trying to pile in on the broody.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. The guineas escaped. They got over the snow fence and under the netting, and did so so close to dark that they’re roosting now in a really bad, exposed place on the edge of the field, because they don’t have time to get to somewhere better. They get dumb and fumbly in the dark. I was holding the flashlight so they could fly up into the branches, and it was still a catastrophe. They hate me. I’m mad at them.
Some days. You try your best to take care of the things, and they’re smart enough to outsmart you, but not smart enough to accept your help.