One of my first jobs on the farm was to create a new home for three little guinea hens who had been housed in a sort of rabbit-hutch which they were fast outgrowing. The job involved clearing a 10ft X 16ft fenced area of 6ft weeds and creating little areas for them to forage and find shelter in. Obviously, the poor critters thought their respective numbers were up when they were bundled into a recycled potato sack for a less than graceful commute to their new pad. The fact that we accidentally almost decapitated one while getting it into the sack might have increased their sense of alarm and contributed to the whole 'running around like headless chickens' scene when they were released, probably in sheer delight that they were still in posession of their heads.
Previously, there had been one other solitary guinea hen hanging out with the 'chooks'. Within seconds of the somewhat noisy arrival of the new birds into the chook-yard, natural instinct took over and the older guinea hen abandoned its chook-mates and flapped in frustration at being stuck in no-birds land until we felt it was safe to let them mix.
Since being moved the three little ones have come on leaps and bounds and are picking up their essential survival techniques from the older one. Classic case of 'I look like you do, I sound like you do so I'll do what you do'...
One of my first jobs on the farm was to create a new home for three little guinea hens who had been housed in a sort of rabbit-hutch which they were fast outgrowing. The job involved clearing a 10ft X 16ft fenced area of 6ft weeds and creating little areas for them to forage and find shelter in. Obviously, the poor critters thought their respective numbers were up when they were bundled into a recycled potato sack for a less than graceful commute to their new pad. The fact that we accidentally almost decapitated one while getting it into the sack might have increased their sense of alarm and contributed to the whole 'running around like headless chickens' scene when they were released, probably in sheer delight that they were still in posession of their heads. 
Previously, there had been one other solitary guinea hen hanging out with the 'chooks'. Within seconds of the somewhat noisy arrival of the new birds into the chook-yard, natural instinct took over and the older guinea hen abandoned its chook-mates and flapped in frustration at being stuck in no-birds land until we felt it was safe to let them mix. Since being moved the three little ones have come on leaps and bounds and are picking up their essential survival techniques from the older one. Classic case of 'I look like you do, I sound like you do so I'll do what you do'... 
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