Last week I went to visit my parents who live on a mountain outside of Greenville. As I’ve told you before, my father is 87 years old and my mother is 85. Visiting them is always a great source of entertainment, and last week was no exception.
It all started when we drove up to the front of their little bungalow and saw two male guineafowl crossing the driveway. As I went into the house, I turned and asked my mother who owned the guineas. I should have known the answer. It was my animal collecting sister.
My sister, who is the baby of the family, has always collected animals. As a child she brought home anything with four legs or feathers and begged to keep it. Mom and dad always kept control over that situation, but now my sister, who was in her 50s, has no one to reign in her addiction and her husband is just as addicted as she is. And to make things worse, they are vegetarians…a totally foreign concept to the rest of the family who loves nothing better than a juicy pot roast.
My sister’s menagerie consists of a huge coop full of chickens, two goats, six dogs, four cats, several birds, and now guineas. The goats had to move to a farm owned by a friend because my mother threatened to kill them if they got in her flower bed one more time. Unfortunately, the goats have been replaced by the guineas, two of which were thankfully eaten by a coyote.
I say “thankfully” because these guineas have become the bane of my mother’s existence. She absolutely hates them. Why? Because those birds like to get into her flower bed that she has forced my father to plant.
Now, on the day that we visited, I was sitting in a chair looking out the front door when I saw those two large birds on mom’s walkway. The walkway leads straight to the front door which was only about 5 feet from where the birds were. Guinea hens are short and squat, with black and white polka dot feathers. But my sister has 2 males. These are really pretty birds, but very annoying. The males have a head like a rooster with a red comb, their bodies are shaped like female turkeys, and their feathers are also black and white polka dotted. They would look great embroidered on a cushion.
Seeing the birds so close to the front door, I quickly turned to my mom and asked if I should shoo the birds away. She gasped and said, “Yes! For Heaven’s sake, get them away from there!”
So like any good daughter, I got up and went to the door and opened it… just in time for my Dachshund Chihuahua mix dog to see these birds and scurry out the open door. Immediately, all chaos ensued. The birds who had the most hideous squawk you’ve ever heard began squawking and running while my little dog chased. They raced around and around our cars in a vicious circle, and I have to say, those birds are really fast. I sort of wonder what would have happened if my dog had actually caught one. They were bigger than he was.
But finally the birds grew tired and split off from each other with one flying to the left in a tree and the other one flying downhill and landing in another tree. My dog stood there looking confused while my father came outside and started fussing.
“Your mother just won’t let those birds alone! I have to send those birds back up the driveway to your sister’s house!” He said, and he stumbled down the grassy slope toward the trees to shoo the stupid birds back toward my sister’s house.
“Dad, those birds know their way home and will go up the road when they are ready. They are well aware of who feeds them,” I said. But my stubborn father was just too worried about the birds getting to the highway. I was more worried about my elderly father stumbling around in the wet grass. But he’s stubborn so I left him alone, grabbed my little dog who was panting with delight by the whole event, and went back in the house.
My mother was grinning when I came in and reached down to pet my little dog on the head.
“Mom, why is dad so determined to send those birds back up the road to my sister’s? They will eventually go up there by themselves.”
“Well, we don’t want them getting to the highway and getting hit by a car,” she answered. “They’ve never seen a car, you know.”
I just stared at her. Was she kidding? They had just spent a good three minutes running around two cars in the front yard. But I had to ask.
“But wouldn’t that be a good thing, if they just happen to saunter down into the highway and get run over? Wouldn’t that solve your problems of these birds getting into your flower bed?” I asked.
“No!” Shrieked my mother with her hands flapping in the air. “Your sister would just buy more!”
In that moment I couldn’t help it. I had to say it. The opening was just there. It was too good to pass up.
“Well,” I said, “this whole situation is for the birds.”
No one found it funny but me.
