The Panic Perimeter

A flurry of feathers flew into the air, and loud screeching gave the impression of a fox in a hen house wreaking havoc. The little guinea fowls scurried about as though their tail feathers were on fire. Fearful they might die of fright, I backed away and sat down on the edge of the tub to ponder my next move.  

Two weeks earlier I had purchased some baby guinea fowls at the flea market with hopes of putting them outside on tick patrol as soon as they reached adulthood. I kept them in a large plastic bin in my bathroom where they could stay warm and safe. Even though guinea fowls are wild, I assumed that if I picked them up daily, they would get used to me and accept my care for them.

I was wrong. They got wilder by the day. No matter how gently I approached