Giselle, Chapter Two: Peril and Rescue

Continuing the saga of Giselle the guinea fowl…

[There are no photos of the actual events described here due to the photographer being precariously balanced on stream banks, on the stream bed, and in a kayak. You will have to use your imagination. I have inserted other pictures to make it up to you. You’re welcome.]

So, dear friends, one day while the chooks were out free ranging on the property (we’d given up trying to keep everyone in the chicken run by then), Giselle was chased by Maisie. Bad dog! Maisie ended up in disgrace; and Giselle ended up stranded on a partially submerged branch out in the stream. Presumably she had flown out there, but it appeared to have slipped her mind that she could fly back (see, there’s the evidence that she is NS).

Maisie, looking as if she could never be a Bad Dog…

Giselle sat there wobbling, looking down at the rushing water while saying “book-book” in despondent tones. We left her there to sort herself out, but an hour or so later her wobbles were wobblier and her ‘booking’ more mournful, and a rescue effort was deemed necessary.

The Forbearing Husband and I took one side of the willow tree each. He made encouraging noises and tried to gently herd Giselle toward land with a bamboo pole, while I waded in — ready to grab her should she fall. It was deeper out there than I had thought and both my gumboots promptly filled up with very cold water. Giselle first pretended not to notice us, and then turned her back and began to jig up and down in a way which seemed to communicate her intention to jump to her death if we persisted in being so very vexing.

There was nothing else for it. I removed my wet clothes (about then the Forbearing Husband may have been humming The Stripper — he’s known to make the best of any situation), and climbed into a kayak in my underwear. Paddling down stream was surprisingly enjoyable. The stream is about 4m wide and perhaps 2m deep, lined with overhanging willows and flaxes. On the other side is a large dairy farm whose grazing cows serve nicely to complete our scenic outlook (thank you neighbour!). Anyway, about 50m worth of gliding gently through this bucolic bliss brought me up alongside an hysterical and possibly suicidal guinea hen.

The stream on a different day. Ignore the foreground weeds – ragwort I think. 🙁

Working against the current I painstakingly positioned the kayak’s bow to create a bridge between Giselle and the stream bank. Then with some effort I held everything steady. Giselle declined to board. I was close enough to grab her, but frightened to in case she panicked and flapped and both of us fell out of the kayak to a watery grave.

There we sat for several minutes until with an exasperated ‘BOOK-BOOK’ Giselle flew to safety. She’d just suddenly remembered she could, she said. And, she said, if you hadn’t been BOTHERING me so much I might have remembered sooner. The Forbearing Husband and I retired to the house for a hot shower and a cup of tea. Sigh. That’s what you get for trying to rescue fowl.

Giselle + Ghost Dog 4eva

After her little adventure Giselle has been sticking even closer to Ghost Dog. This afternoon my cousin Rachel read in an old Lifestyle Block magazine that guinea fowl often choose a mate for life. I guess that may mean that sometime soon we’ll find  ‘G + G.D. 4eva’ inscribed into a Macracarpa trunk. Anyway, next time she needs a rescue mission he can do the kayaking!