THE RED COW 



twenty of them ranged decoratively on the partitions 

 between the stalls. I couldn't shoo them away like 

 the hens. I had to touch each one, and as I touched 

 it it gave a shrill squeak and flew blindly until it 

 brought up against the wall at the far end of the 

 stable. Usually they fell to the floor, but sometimes 

 they would beat their wings and work their feet and 

 apparently walk up the wall like flies until the roof 

 checked them, and then they would sink to the floor 

 with a final discouraged squeak. Once I caught one 

 of them to see how heavy it was, and it squealed like 

 a rat. I dropped it instinctively, for I felt that 

 anything that could squeal like that would be likely 

 to bite. And they can bite — or at least use their 

 bills. I have noticed that at feeding time they can 

 whip even the rooster away from the choicest bits, 

 and I am told that when there were young chickens 

 about, the old pair of guinea fowl thought nothing 

 of grabbing them in their beaks and shaking them 

 as a terrier shakes a rat. Sometimes, if they were 

 not interrupted in committing these atrocities they 

 even killed the chickens. I do not think the nature 

 and habits of guinea fowl have been studied by the 

 experts, and some time when the rush is over I may 

 prepare a bulletin on the subject. At present, how- 



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