When it comes to guineas, seeing is believing

There's been some strange goings on in our neighborhood. Two or three weeks ago, a couple of guinea fowl were observed strutting down Murray Boulevard. Or at least that was the word. I didn't believe it until a lady friend I know took a picture of them with her cell phone and forwarded it to me. Sure enough, I thought, them are guineas -- and then immediately recalled a famous dialogue concerning ducks, presumably written somewhere in the backcountry:

"M. R. ducks."

"M. R. not."

"O. S. A. R."

"C. M. wangs?

"M. R. ducks."

Translated:

"Those are ducks."

"Those are not."

"Oh, yes they are."

"See those wings?

"Those are ducks."

A suitable adaptation of which might be the following:

"M. R. guineas."

"Hominy?"

"Mornin' one."

"But lesson three.

"M. R. guineas."

Poor creatures, I thought. They'll just get run over or killed some other way. I then remembered how my grandfather kept some out in the country and what interesting characters they were.

That's right -- characters. Always engaged in lively conversation and pecking around inquisitively, seeming to enjoy the company of people as long as we didn't get too close. One of them displayed the extraordinary knack of chasing after the car on foot and would achieve impressive speeds trying to stay with it. Up to 20 mph or so, as I recall.

Why the bird wouldn't just go ahead and fly -- something it was perfectly capable of doing -- remained a mystery, given the level of determination. I'm telling you, it was a comical sight to look through the rear window and see that guinea chasing us down like the law after a couple of fugitives.

I was mulling all that over on the way home from work a few days after the sighting on Murray Boulevard. What would become of the poor guineas? I hoped someone had taken them "under wing" or that they had otherwise been returned to the rightful owners. What in the world were they doing downtown anyway? Were they escaped? Lost? Or did they just randomly fly in for whatever reason?

Well, my reverie was disturbed by a familiar cackle as I walked onto the porch -- an unmistakable one, in fact. Surely I must be imagining things. But it happened again, and there, on the back wall separating our yard from the neighbors', were the two guineas barking out orders like they owned the joint!

You've got to love the call of the guinea. Somewhat obnoxious but mostly charming, their raucous squawking is amazingly loud and, if played through a repetitive loop, probably would drive most people nuts. But, as I say, in short discourse, their conversation is interesting and spoken with refreshing chutzpah and attitude -- with charm, if you will.

Our newly acquired friends had found a bountiful water source next door, where a tenant renting an out-building quickly started providing a food source. Now there's a second food source -- from guess who? -- and the birds seem quite content spending time on both properties (assuming our Norwich terrier doesn't run them off), roosting in a large oak at night that basically straddles the property line.

They're a devoted pair -- never more than a few feet from each other -- and would aptly fit the description of lovebirds. I must confess to becoming quite attached to them and hope they'll stay awhile, leaving either by choice or if otherwise claimed by their owners.

Simple enough, right? But good luck trying to catch them!

Edward M. Gilbreth is a Charleston physician. Reach him at edwardgilbreth@comcast.net.