Life Gets Better

by Donna Schoenkopf

I've had a lot of reaction to the last piece I wrote.

People couldn't bear to read of guinea chicks' feet, cut and bleeding. Of drowning guineas. Of kittens with diarrhea. Of asthma in the storm.

It was just TOO much.

So this is for you, my darlings. You, Casey and Karin and Daymon and Larry and John and Joyce, feel the intensity of pain and death, and I'm sorry that it happened. But it did. And it does. Regularly.

But ... as my sainted second Jewish mother-in-law often said, “This too shall pass.”

So I've been sitting here in Oklahoma on top of the hill, with lush green all around, feeling happy and content with the world.

Here are examples of how life gets better.

My guineas are thriving. They are curious little things. Their personalities are endearing. They focus intensely on things. They SEE things with those big beautiful eyes of theirs. Their eyes are to the bird world as deer eyes are to the mammal world. They are tense and nervous. And hilarious.

They are still in their brooder coop and are fast outgrowing it. I would say they are about half grown. They will start to come out on the first of August. Bob the Guinea Man said to take them out two at a time. Those two will hang around the coop because they are nervous without each other. They are so married to each other that if one guinea ventures across the coop for something (like the tassled grass I give them in the morning and evening) the rest follow. There is ALWAYS one guy who gets left behind and, upon realizing his mistake, runs like hell to get back into the crowd. It's hilarious!

They love eating blades of grass and sometimes one will swallow a long piece which will somehow get stuck in its craw, the loose end sticking out of its beak. At first I thought that would be the death of the poor thing and wondered if I should be doing the Heimlich manuever on it. But I learned that the others will grab the end and pull, wanting it for themselves. Usually the grass is dislodged and the puller gets it. Yesterday I noticed a guinea with an inch long piece of grass protruding from its beak and guinea after guinea pulling on it, but it just wouldn't come out. Finally one guinea grabbed a hold of it and pulled backward as hard as he could, like a game of tug-o-war, and I swear he pulled a piece of grass out at least a foot and a half long. It was hilarious. I was amazed at its length.

They poo in their water.

They poo in their corn meal.

They eat each other's poo.

Yum.

Every time I put something new into their coop, they freak out. I put a small branch in for them to roost on. Freak out. (I took the branch out.) I put their water dispenser on an upside down metal pan to raise it a little for poo purposes and they cowered in the opposite corner of the cage all day long. (I took the metal pan out.) I put some cottonwood leaves in their cage that had caterpillars encased in them, thinking the guineas would love these little morsels. They freaked out. They wouldn't go near those black and yellow things. (I removed each caterpillar-infested leaf.)

They love it when I pour water on the wire screens of their cage on hot days. The spaces in the wire hold drops of water and they run up and peck each one. It's one of their favorite games. Plus the water tastes good. No poo.

Their heads got too big for the feeder I had for them. You know those low metal trays with holes in the top for birds to put their heads through? Anyway, I got that same flat metal pan they had been terrified of before and of course they freaked out, but I draped it with grass and there WAS corn meal inside, and they had also seen it before, so within a couple of hours they couldn't resist. They began their brave dance with the feeder with one brave bird, tempted by the delicious seeds, edging up to the feeder, almost on tiptoe, grabbing the end of the tassle, and yanking it off the feeder and running like crazy to safety on the other side of the coop. In no time, after they had seen what their courageous coop-mate had done, they were in the pan, having a corn meal bath, just like a dust bath birds give themselves sometimes. They nestled in it, stuck their heads under the meal, rolled over in it, scratched it completely out of the pan in minutes. You should have seen them! What were they? Everybody? That's right. Hilarious!

So I got another feeder, bath-proof, which had to be camouflaged with grass, and we have success, folks.

Their chirping is the sweetest thing. Really pretty. That's why I call them my Little Peepers. But a couple of them have more of a raspy sound. I think they are roosters. When I put their grass in, they peep continually, all happy and excited. If one finds tassles, the others chase him. They scratch the pile, making grass fly and exposing the seeds. Oh, they are happy when they get their grass. I am dying to see what they do when I finally take them out and they are able to have bugs and seeds and the WORLD will be at their disposal. They'll probably freak out.

And CheGuevara, my diarrhetic kitten, is happy and healthy and driving Rosie the Cat crazy. He jumps on her, pulling her down, smelling her butt, biting her ears, nuzzling her belly, until she just can't stand it anymore and races across the room to a chair from which she can bat him away. But from time to time I catch them sleeping together. He still wants to nurse the back of my head and sometimes perches on the back of my chair when I work on the computer. When I hear him purring back there I know he's going in for the kill (my head) and shoo him away. He used to be so persistent that I would push him away dozens of times before he'd give up. Man! He really wanted to nurse. Weaned too early. I would actually have let him if he wasn't giving me hickies ...

He makes a huge mess in the house, just like a child. He unrolls toilet paper rolls and tears off pieces and strews them around the house. He plays with the leaves of my houseplants, tearing those to shreds and scattering them around the house. He gets into waste baskets, tips them over and distributes all the trash everywhere.

Cute kid.

I have a tomato plant that is growing out of one of my potted plants that is six feet long and growing over my concrete floor. Son John had thrown a tomato into that pot about a year ago when I was still in San Pedro. And now I have this incredible tomato plant. It even has blossoms on it!

The water from Pottawatomie Rural Water District #3 literally stinks. Smells like rotten eggs. It's because I don't use enough water and something or other happens in the pipes. I'm supposed to “blow it out” once a month by turning on the water from the main line for five minutes. It makes me feel connected to the actual process. It makes me realize how much water I'm using. It makes me grateful to be a part of things.

I cannot tell you how pleasant it is to water my “lawn” every evening about 7:00. It is still warm, but not sweltering outside. The sun is lower in the sky. I pull my hose, which is attached to my orange water pump, across my gravel driveway and turn the lever on my $3.00 plastic hand sprinkler, and watch the water arc out over the bermuda grass, marguerites (wild), buffalo grass, one-eyed susans (wild), gorgeous 7-foot-tall spikes of white wildflowers whose name I do not know, and sunflowers that are taller than my roof! Lots more, too, but I shan't go over each one.

I love watching the interdependence of life out here. Yesterday I watched some lovely, delicate birds, creamy and gray with small crests at the backs of their heads, hopping through my cottonwood, checking out brown leaves which have caterpillars sealed inside (yes, the same ones the guineas freaked out about), breaking those leaves open and slurping up the caterpillars. It's like a bird festival in that tree. Those guineas don't know what they missed.

I love hanging out the wash. I have clothesline strung through the trees and I found the most amazing mushrooms growing there.

It is cool and dewy in the mornings. My favorite time. It's when I go out to feed my guineas. I roam around my place in my pajamas, scissor in hand, through the wet grass, snipping juicy grasses, while my sweeties peep in anticipation.

I am here in the Garden of Eden.

Life is good.

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