Many people have never seen, much less heard of, guinea fowl. Visitors, on spying their first guinea, invariably ask "What is that—a turkey?" Nope, but not a bad guess. Like turkeys, guineas are Galliformes, a group encompassing all chicken-like birds. But while chickens are members of the pheasant family, turkeys and guineas each have a family of their own. Native to Africa, they are known for traveling in large, gregarious flocks. Guinea fowl were introduced into Europe by 15th century Portuguese explorers, and then arrived in North America with the early settlers. There are seven species of guinea fowl, of which the "helmeted pearl" is by far the most common, and certainly the weirdest looking, with its oddly shaped helmet, white, featherless face, bright red wattles, and gray polka-dotted feathers.
Ask those who keep guineas why they have them and you'll get a different answer every time. Chicken and turkey farmers keep them to ward off poultry-eating predators. Ranchers turn them loose to discourage rattlers and copperheads. Country dwellers like the way they gobble down disease-carrying ticks. Orchardists use them to drive off marauding birds. Farmers put them to work patrolling for row crop pests. Guineas do all this without damaging crops. Sure, they'll take the occasional peck at a cultivated plant, but they much prefer insects, weeds, and seeds.
Free-ranging guineas spend most of their days foraging. They work as a team, marching chest to chest and devouring anything they startle as they move through the grass. When they discover a special treat—a rodent, for example, or a small snake—they close ranks, circle their prey, and move in for the feast. All the while, they keep up a steady stream of whistles, chirps, and clicks, a sort of running commentary on the day's hunt.
But these little foragers have their faults. Like chickens, guineas are natural-born scratchers—I once watched a week-old guinea scratch vigorously in a saucer of starter mash while others stood by trying to catch bits of mash sailing through the air. Nevertheless, a guinea doesn't scratch as enthusiastically or as persistently as a chicken, and is far less likely to dig up garden seedlings, although they are attracted to freshly worked soil and will spend hours digging holes for luxurious dustbaths. Once I acquired a whole flock of guineas simply by arriving on the scene moments after they had devastated a friend's blossoming snap beans.
In addition to the minor inconveniences caused by dusting and occasional scratching, guineas have other characteristics that some people find somewhat less than endearing. For one thing, the hens lay only seasonally, and the young are quite delicate. Guineas are also a noisy bunch, making them a poor choice where high-strung neighbors live nearby. Because of their continuous conversations, guineas cannot be snuck into housing developments as chickens often are. It's probably best because guineas don't take kindly to confinement; they much prefer the freedom to prowl their home base. In this respect, a guinea has the same independence as a barn-born cat—it'll eat your food and tolerate your presence, but a guinea will never be your best friend.
