Here guinea, guinea, guinea


I never expected myself to have the desire to search for guineas, much less did I think I would be hunting them down to take a picture of them.

A few weeks ago, the two feature writers on my newspaper were writing an article about Christmases gone wrong. One of the stories included a guinea. I knew my neighbors down the road had them, so I went looking for them for photo purposes. However, it turned all the guineas were gone. They always wondered on the road, and I guess they were what you could call a free-range guinea. Sorta like with chickens, only with a guinea this time.

I made the observation that yes, the guineas had died. Gone to guinea heaven or where ever those little birds go when they pass on to the other side. Yesterday, though, they were back. And there were more guineas than there were the last time. I almost ran over them and figured they would have the same luck as their fellow brethren.

As I told the girl who wrote the story about my siting, I had an idea. I would go take a picture of one as joke. Well, the joke’s on me now. Today, I saw them as I leaving my house and figured they would still be in the same spot when I returned. Wrong. I was wrong.

I pulled over on the little side road to get out searching for them. I felt awkward. I had no idea who these people were that owned them, and I was looking for their birds. I saw chickens. I saw roosters. But no. I didn’t see guineas. Right as I was about to give up and turn back to head home, all the guineas come running down the driveway. I started laughing. Yes. Here they come. Now, I can get my picture and leave.

Wrong. Wrong . Wrong and wrong. That was not the case at all. While I was sitting there laughing at these silly, little birds their owner walks out the front door. Nothing good generally comes out of people catching you no matter how innocent the act may be at the time. The woman asked if I was looking for something. Well, I was. I was looking for her birds. But I was not going to tell that.

Hm. My cat. That seemed feasible right? Every good mystery book I have ever read uses that line. I thought why not. Let’s see how this goes. I told the lady I was looking for my black cat and that her name was Midnight. I did have a cat named Midnight once who ran away in the fifth grade. The lady was kind. She believed my story. And I did apologize.

Needless to say, I feel bad. Feel bad that I was not honest about my true animal searching intentions. I should have just told her I was trying to take a picture of her guineas. Yes, she would have thought I was weird probably. It’s not like people go around on a daily basis looking for those birds. However, the truth is always better than lie no matter how small or weird.


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