They say bad things happen in threes. If I consolidate both dead guineas into one incident, then I think we've reached (if not exceeded) our limit in the past couple of weeks. First it was the mysterious disappearance of one of our young hens, just barely beginning her egg laying career. Then came the guinea murder and mutilation. Last, but certainly not least, has been the bizarre incident of Lily's swollen head. Upon returning from our camping trip last weekend, we noticed that Lily had a golf ball sized lump on her right cheek. She seemed normal enough otherwise, so the dismembered guinea took up our immediate attention. Lily had been through a similar situation once before when her leg swelled up from what we could only assume was an insect sting as there was no other sign of injury. That time the swelling had gone away on its own and we assumed the same would happen this time. We were wrong. Rather than go down, the swelling continued, slowly at first, until Lily's face had doubled in size! After a trip to the vet this morning, Lily now has a tube sticking out of the side of her face and is on antibiotics. She is about the saddest sight you've ever seen. Don't worry; I didn't take any pictures.

Whereas Lily will be spending the next few days in a crate, the guineas are finally out of one. Their introduction into the chicken pen has gone quite well. In addition to expanding the size of the chicken house to provide more roost space, we also built some new nest boxes to accommodate the recent increase in laying hens. The chickens and the guineas are on lockdown in the pen for about a week so the guineas can fully imprint the pen/house as "the place to be" and the chicks can develop the habit of laying their eggs in the coop, rather than under the pickup truck as they have been. To the guineas, the pen is practically total freedom. They are beside themselves with excitement, stretching their wings, hopping from roost to roost, etc. The chickens, who are used to free ranging and following their heart's desires, are not exactly happy with the setup. According to the author of one chicken keeping book I read, to say a chicken can be bored is "unnecessarily anthropomorphic". Well, I never was one to shy away from anthropomorphizing, and that guy has obviously never spent more than 30 seconds at a time observing a chicken. My chickens are bored to tears. Tensions are flaring and insults are quickly passed down the pecking order. Poor Chickadena, the very bottom of the chicken totem pole, has no one to take it out on but the guineas, and they are too fast to catch. I am tempted to grant a pardon and turn everyone loose tomorrow, but the longer we can hold out, the less chance the guineas will choose to go feral as soon as they taste true freedom.

On an un-animal side note, here's a couple of the sweet potatoes I harvested from my boss' farm. Too bad we just missed the state fair.