B and I dropped C off at Cassie's house after a two-day video game marathon. Cassie and Tommy live off of country roads in what looks like a small subdivision. Their house sits on the bend of a road, though, on a lot of three acres or so, so it feels country. Well, the location, the need for a riding lawn mower, and the fact that the next door neighbor, who is a bit away, has guinea hens.
Guineas were new to us when we moved to this part of Virginia. We grew up in Virginia Beach. In fact, I graduated there, so the thought of having livestock at a house was foreign to me. Apparently they eat ticks, so they are valuable around here. Virginia Beach did not have many ticks.
Anyways, after C hopped to the porch, I pulled forward to circle around the power pole and re-enter the driveway so I wouldn't have to back up a billion feet. All of a sudden, three mape-mape-ing guineas scurried up to the front of my car.
I edged up, little by little. Two backed off and mape-maped from a few feet back. The third was either really brave or really dumb. He maped from his original position, unhinged by an approaching killing machine and its loud meep-meeping. My Kia sounds like the road runner.
"Go shoo, them, B!"
My dutiful nine-year-old hopped out, slammed the car door and ran at the birds, yelling and flailing his arms. C heard the ruckus and joined his cousin. When I'd pictured motherhood, I'd never pictured boys chasing livestock. Who knew?
The stubborn (or unrealistically friendly) guinea, finally edged away, but he would not go very far. B yelled for me to keep going, so I crept around the power pole. B ran back to the car, along with the car, yelled for me to keep going, then opened the door and jumped into the slowly moving vehicle.
I rolled my window down to yell goodbye to Cassie "I can't believe our lives include shooing guinea hens!"
"Sometimes they follow us all the way down the driveway!"
I kept going, churning mud from my tires onto my silver Kia.