Guineas, looking out

A couple of weeks ago
I started bringing cracked corn
to Rooster in the morning
so he’d think I was a corn dispenser
and not another, giant, rooster;
so that he’d stop attacking me.
We usually do fine when I’m feeding him the corn.
But when I’m doing chores in the barn
and he’s finished his corn
and is walking around in the barn too,
he comes after me.
A few days ago,
he even left is corn,
which I’d scattered for him outside,
and charged me.
I backed off
but he continued his pursuit;
chased me until
I snuck around the corner of the barn.
I think he gave up the charge
when the alpaca, Biak—
that would be a very giant, furry, rooster—
appeared around the corner.
Yesterday, he came after me again,
doing this flighty thing
three times in a row.
This is one smart rooster:
He knows I’m not a corn dispenser.
He does, evidently, still feel threatened.
So, I continue with the corn
and am ever mindful of his whereabouts,
keeping my distance when I can,
showering him with compassion
when he takes after me:
He doesn’t understand;
he may never understand.
But this morning,
he left me alone.

Meanwhile,
we’ve had more adventures with the guineas,
who escaped out of their side of the barn
a couple of days ago
when the wind blew the tarp loose.
That meant the chickens couldn’t go outdoors
(we’re still trying to prevent the guineas from going outside
until they’re old enough to fly away from predators;
which they might be; but it’s risky; we’re still thinking
spring.)
So the chickens and guineas hung out together
in the barn for a couple of days.
Ann discovered 11 blue eggs in the guinea pen.
Evidently one of the Aericauna hens
has been sneaking over there
(I’d seen her there once, eating out of the guineas’ bowl)
to lay her eggs.
This morning,
the guineas were all back in their pen.
I secured the tarp
and let the chickens outside
into the sunshine.
The guineas stood in the sunshine
at their big gate,
looking out.
I’m thinking they’re ready
to go out. But would they be safe?
It’s not easy to think
like a fowl.