Post 2-year sabbatical, Chicken Corner (CC) is back with pizzazz. But just to be clear, throughout this time CC has functioned as normal and no dramatic changes in scheduling or numbers have occurred. Many “good times” have been had and it is with the biggest regret, readers were not kept “in the loop”.
Let’s not dwell on that though! Instead, we’re kickstarting with a celebration of our well-loved guinea fowl, Gwen, because.. why the hell not! Gwen arrived in the orchard some years ago with a cacophony of sound and a flurry of feathers. Those familiar with the radiant façade and chatter of guinea fowls will appreciate that CC’s sound/land-scape immediately transformed beyond the borders of Norfolk, to the depths of sub-Saharan Africa! For Gwen’s ancestors originated in West Africa from the helmeted guinea fowl (according to wikipedia).
In fact it was the sound that finally helped identify the gender. Turns out Gwen isn’t a female as first thought during the formal naming ceremony.. the (very) repetitive, shrill cries were hard to interpret at first, but then the mating dances around the hens and general protective nature began to serve as important clues – he was in fact a male guinea fowl. "Glen" would perhaps be more appropriate?
During Spring, Summer and Autumn, Gwen spends his dreamy nights perched in the Rowan tree overhanging the large chicken shed. His evening ascent is grand; one evening I was so concerned by the onslaught of noise I sprinted outside (halfway through my meal), fearing the worst. Luckily no fox! Just Gwen confirming his watchman’s station. His early morning descent is equally ostentatious, using the roof of the shed as a stepping-stone. With one final cry, he swoops down to greet the morning dew and speedy legs propel him around the orchard, shooting this way and that! oh how excited he is to see all his chickens every single day! (Your director and manager doesn’t like to pass judgement, but on this occasion it feels apt – Gwen’s adoring feelings towards the hens are not reciprocated. They dart straight for the food: pecking, scrapping and vocalising in long-drawn-out clucks – clearly not the behaviour of a romantic novel).
But Gwen’s love and need to protect “his” hens is infinite, unperturbed by their lack. He chases off Peggy the terrier (when she braves it into the orchard with GJH Rainey, fearing for her own life infact) as well as bullying / “putting in their place” the male youths of today in CC. Only recently a new 3-month old Maran X Light Sussex cockerel arrived, left in a small enclosure to get him used to his new home. Daily Gwen would taunt him, racing up and down the wire, pecking and clucking. Somewhat a distraction until morning feeding whereupon the hens were released from their sheds and Gwen dashed off to greet them, leaving the innocent youth alone!
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