July 17 2016. LaFarge Trail. Flamborough, ON. On a very wet camping expedition some years (actually decades) ago I remember being puzzled by a curious, rhythmic scraping sound, like a coarse file practicing on a sheet of corrugated steel. It came from a nearby field and although I was puzzled by it, my friend confidently informed me it was a gleanie. A gleanie it turned out is, or was, vernacular for a Guinea Fowl.
Just to ensure we’re all on the same page, a Guinea Fowl looks like a dark, spotted and portly chicken on silly legs. Apparently they make decent eating and their eggs are substantially richer than those of chickens. But for all of that it seems they are kept for entertainment more than anything else, in this part of the world anyway. Perhaps in sub-Saharan Africa, their homeland, they have other fates.
I came across a small group of Guinea Fowl today and for clarity I believe they were Helmeted Guinea Fowl, a distinction worth making for there are several species. As far as I can tell, this is the only domesticated species.
What made these exotic birds my Birds of the Day was not so much seeing them, but the way it all came together, the convergence of idle thoughts and reality; just serendipity.
I had hiked the length of a hilly woodland trail and had turned to retrace my steps when I heard a sound, maybe a bird call, possibly a cuckoo or possibly not a bird at all. It was a puzzle that occupied maybe three seconds of my brain-space and was gone. A steep hill-climb and descent later I once again heard an odd sound, it reminded me of that wet camping experience, a repetitive scraping sound.
Gleanies! I thought,- I wondered. But who would keep gleanies here? Unless you could herd them back to a safe house every night, they’d soon be lost to foxes, coyotes or even raccoons. Unless, well maybe, if you had a guardian animal, perhaps a donkey. I’d read or heard that donkeys are useful as vigilant, noisy and belligerent overseers of a flock of sheep. It was another thought train that ran a short course and easily gave way to more immediate concerns like biting mosquitoes.
The trail led past a rather untidy field of erratic enclosures, hardly fences, and far to the right a donkey stood quietly grazing. It brought back that thought about security donkeys and gleanies. And then – there were gleanies running around! Four or five of them. So there it was: fifty year-old memories, donkey mythology and gleanies – or more properly Helmeted Guinea Fowl.