After a few years on our farm, we were settled into a routine.  The care and keeping of horses, multiple dogs and cats, and our inherited neighbors’ sheep was a dream come true because routine has always been in my nature.  I am someone who is comforted by waking at the same time each day and carrying out a schedule.  So, I was perfectly suited to a world that thrived on one too.  Horses need to be fed at the same time each day, the barn always needs to be cleaned, pastures need to be dragged, dogs, cats, and sheep fed, the list went on and on. 

In addition to our domesticated animals, the woods were full of creatures. Our farm was heavily traveled by deer (and the occasional moose) and there were always foxes in the spring.  We had every single acre posted NO hunting; it was a safe place during the fall when the sound of gunshots was the norm.  The deer were always in the horses’ pastures, gracefully grazing next to them and came close to the house to drink out of the girls’ wading pool.  They were tame and they trusted us, which I loved.

But along with deer, came another creature. Ticks became as much a part of our life as the animals they rode in on.  The dogs had them, the cats, and the horses too.  So, it was inevitable that humans would be involved.  I have to admit that the first time I found a tick on one of the girls I freaked out.  But I learned that this was going to be part of our life and needed to be part of our routine too.  Thus the advent of the nightly tick check.  Ask any of my daughters and I believe they all remember bath time involved “ARMS UP” and me combing over them.  We found them often enough that we decided we needed to address what felt like an epidemic.  Lyme disease was all over Vermont at that point and we knew people and animals who had contracted it.  

So I went to the person who I relied on for all my animal advice, our trusty country vet.  This man had an answer for everything and was always wise and pragmatic - our own James Herriott.  His reply to my fears about ticks bringing disease to the farm was simple.  “Guinea Hens” he replied.  “Get a dozen or so this spring.  All they do is cruise your property and eat ticks.”  It wasn’t the answer I expected but I liked it a lot more than the thought of spraying something, so a few weeks later 18 tiny, newly hatched Guinea Hens arrived in a donut box and settled under a warming lamp in my middle daughter’s bedroom.  They were the size of a tangerine, fluffy and a bit smelly.  Luckily they didn’t have to be in for long, just until they were steady on their feet.  Fortunately, the farm already had a hen house, and with a little spiffing up and the purchase of feeders, waterers and their food, we were in business.

I’ve never owned birds, nor did I know anything about them.  My best friend split the delivery with me-; she took 18 as well and we learned together.  She had chickens, so she was able to talk me through “bird behavior” but what was so remarkable was that once they were outside and had their bearings, they just went to work.  And these creatures earned their keep.  All day, every day they ate ticks.  They grew like weeds, and found their voices; if you want a good laugh google “guinea hen calls” because they are LOUD.  But they are also very protective.  They hung around the barn as the girls tacked up the horses after school and they all marched in a line over to the riding ring and stayed (eating ticks the whole time) while the girls rode.  My UPS man learned to bravely push right past them because as soon as they heard him rattle down our long, dirt driveway, they went into alarm mode.  I never had to worry about someone sneaking up on us.

When I went to the barn at night for evening check, they would all follow me into their coop and bed down for the night.  And the next day they were back at work.  We named each one and we swore we could tell them apart.  Their colors ranged from a brownish-black (the biggest of whom we called General Espresso and the smallest was Piccolo).  There were light grey and white ones as well.  They each had their own distinct personality and were the only animals who earned their keep 24/7.  They never stopped doing their job and our tick problem plummeted. A natural solution that still amazes me.

When we left the farm, moving this flock was one of the most difficult things I’d ever done, but that is for another post.  There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think of them and smile at what an unexpected and unique addition they were to our lives.  One of my greatest animal kinships found in the unlikeliest of creatures.