Our newest editions, the young Guinea hens are settling in nicely. After a few days of hiding and getting pecked on by *everyone*, they have more or less become full members of the flock. There are still, however, a few of the older ladies who will only put up with so much youthful exuberance. These grand ladies want to constantly remind the youngsters where their place in the flock is, but much to my relief, the Guinea hens have learned to get to safety by roosting on a high bar (and how they get up that high sort of defies any kind of logic, they don’t exactly look like flying birds.)
Our as yet, un-named birds huddle together, keeping each other safe and warm under the keen eye of other flock members.
That’s one keen eye.
They make sure to keep out of pecking distance and are content to watch what goes on below them.
“How are the vultures doing?,” Asked one of my sons when he saw me taking pictures out at the coop.
“They’re not vultures,” I corrected him. “They’re Guinea hens.”
“Can’t you tell the difference?”
