We Bought a Farm: Putting down a guinea

Photo courtesy of previous WWOOFer Emily M.

(Warning: This post is a little graphic. Do not read if you are squeamish.)

We currently have about two dozen growing guinea fowl in our brooder. Right now they are around two months old, and they will soon leave the brooder and begin to imprint on our farm so that we can hopefully have them for years to come. 

Last year, due to some errors on our part and some intensive predation, we lost our guinea flock. When we lost them, we also gained a ton more trouble from ticks. So we decided to try and raise a second group of guineas. (To read all about these previous adventures: click here.)

This time JB got some different color variations of guineas. And we noticed that one of the white guineas was continually staying separate from the group when we opened the brooder. This was quite obvious being as they flock together quite profusely. Each time we opened the brooder, this one guinea would be on the other side, obviously being picked on or ostracized by her fellow guineas and not included with the pack.

About a week ago I was talking to our current WWOOFer, Tymen. I told him that if we didn't pull that white guinea out of the brooder, it would be dead within a few days. John was working and Jacob was off, so Tymen and I decided to make the call. We both agreed that we should let nature take its course. To pull a guinea out means a lot more work in order to take care of one bird by itself. In addition, that one bird can get lonely and that isn't good either. Nature has a way of working these things out. If those birds sensed that this guinea was weak, they were taking care of the problem on behalf of the greater good.

Two days ago while Jacob was tending to the chickens nearby he heard a horrible racket from the brooder. With me standing nearby, we opened the brooder to find that the white guinea had been violently attacked by its fellow birds. It was really hard to see. It was very bloody and obviously would be dead within a few hours.

Jacob and I instantly decided that the guinea had to be put down. It was obviously in terrible pain and it was not fair to let it suffer. When we reach a point where an animal has to be put down, there is often a discussion that ensues to make sure all parties are on board. This time Jacob and I didn't even discuss. There was no question that this bird had to be saved from suffering.

I have managed to put down one tiny chicken when no one was around to do it for me, but I had never put down anything more than that one bird. I also had never watched the actual act of ending an animal's life. Even when I put down that chicken, I simply banged it one time without looking at it. Dad or Grampa or Jacob often slipp behind the brooder or garage to do this act. I had always avoided being present.

Jacob pulled the dying guinea out of the brooder. 

"I'll do it," I said. 

"You sure?" Jacob asked.

"Yes," I said. Jacob had had to put down a turkey earlier that day because JB was working and it had fallen off of his radar. I felt bad about that. I didn't think he should have to put a second bird down in one day.

Jacob handed me the guinea by his feet and left to go get the axe.

I stood there, holding the bird's feet in my fingers. I could feel that those feet were alive. They were warm. Now and then he would give a flap. 

I felt my anxiety increasing. 

Jacob came back. "Are you ready?" he asked.

"No," I said. "Could you walk me through it?"

Jacob took the guinea from me. "I'll do it," he said. 

I started to argue as he put the guinea on a board and got the axe ready. But I knew I didn't have it in me. Not yet. Instead I just nodded and said, "I'm gonna make myself watch this time."

He nodded.

And I did.

Before I knew it, the head was off. As you often hear, the body is still flapping as the nerves die. In fact, the little beak gave one or two more movements too. 

Suddenly I was crying. It was a horrible thing to see. I didn't like it even one little bit even though I had no doubt the choice had been taken from us.

I knew this had to happen.

I knew this bird would die one way or the other, and we owed it to him to prevent it from having to be later. 

But I just really, really hated this part. I hate the fact that animals have to die. And it gets harder and harder the farther up the mammal chain you climb.

I know that I must get to the point that I can put an animal down myself. If no one is at the farm with me and an animal is suffering, I have to be able to put it out of its pain. 

Watching was bringing myself one step closer.

But I still feel far away.