We've raised many birds over the years. Chickens. Geese. Ducks. And now guineas.
And let me tell you...they're all stupid. The ducks were afraid of water. The geese landed on the barn. Last week one of the chickens drowned in their own water bowls. And it takes the guinea's two hours to find their way out of their coops. If one is left in our out, it rams its chest against the chicken wire, not thinking to walk around to the door.
I may not have the most commonsense in the world. I count on my fingers. I can't do multiplication in my head. And I can't do percentages, even when armed with a calculator.
But so far I haven't drowned in my bathtub (except for the time when Jasen caught me passing out in the tub from Benadryl to get rid of the hives throwing my Dad's 50th birthday party gave me), I can find my way out of my house (although I can't find my key to get it) and I can back my car out of the driveway (except for the time I couldn't, and plopped into the ditch, and had to get Jasen to yank me out).
But the next time someone calls me a birdbrain, I'm going to kick their ass. Them's fightin' words, I tell you. Fightin' words.
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