I know my children’s tantrum triggers well.

For A, it’s any perceived injustice or unfairness between how we treat him versus his siblings. A has always been a scorekeeper and a fairness tracker. Sometimes, I chalk it up to starting life with a defective heart, and realizing that the world was a little tilted against him from the beginning, and sometimes, I think he’s just being a brat, but at any rate, those are the things he can’t seem to get over.

For E, it’s any situation where she can’t keep up or when the boys can do certain things because they’re older, or because they’re boys, or just because they have more interesting lives than she does.

For example, because the boys are so close in age, many times, A’s friends will invite G along, because he’s basically one of them. We also have several sets of friends that have two boys roughly the same age as A and G, and it just makes sense to do things as a foursome, with no room for little sisters.

G tends to be most affected by sugar and lack of sleep, but he also tends to be the most “roll with the punches” kid, so I was really surprised last week when an unexpected event threw him into a tantrum the likes of which I had never seen from him. What happened to upset his apple cart? Our scheduled delivery of guinea fowl keets was delayed by two weeks.

Although we’ve had a variety of birds over the years, this was our first foray into the world of the guinea fowl. After a nasty battle with Lyme disease, I’ve vowed to annihilate ticks at all costs, and these birds are known for eating tons of them. They also don’t do the damage that plain old chickens do, scratching and digging up grass and flower beds. They’re known to make excellent watch dogs, as the slightest noise or disturbance will set them off.

We’ve stuck with basic egg-laying chickens in the past, but now that we’re spending more time on the farm, we decided to expand our horizons and bring in some different kinds of birds, starting with the guineas. As the kids perused the chicken catalog, they wanted to order one of every exotic fowl out there. The Wonderful Husband steered them toward the guinea fowl, explaining that if we established a flock of them, it would make it safer for all the other birds, since they would do a good job of alerting everyone if there was a predator in the area. (Our chickens have been the victims of raccoons, foxes and owls, over the years.)

We placed an order for a mixed group, which would guarantee us at least four different color patterns. And, then we waited. Quite honestly, I’d forgotten all about them. Until June arrived. Our hatch was expected sometime in June, so as of June 1, G asked every single day if we’d heard about the “chickens” yet. If you’ve never ordered chickens before, it’s quite an experience. After the chicks hatch, they are packed up and overnighted to the post office. We usually get a text, or more than likely a semi-frantic phone call from the post office, telling us the birds have arrived. So, every single morning, the first question out of G’s mouth was, “did you get a text about the chicks yet?” “Keets, G, and no, not yet.”

Well, somewhere around June 4, we did get a text that informed us that the hatchery was having issues and our bird delivery would be delayed for one to two weeks. So, the next time G asked, I had an answer for him. I was not prepared for the howling that commenced. Apparently, G really had his heart set on getting his flock going, and a delay wasn’t acceptable.

“Jeez, G, it’s just a few days,” I said. “It will be OK.”

This wasn’t good enough for G. He was worried about what might have happened to his keets. I tried to explain to him that his keets hadn’t even hatched yet, so he didn’t need to worry about them. So, after about a day of being very cranky, he settled back into his daily routine of asking if we got “the text yet.”

Finally, we got the text. I quickly ran to the post office, and as soon as I opened the door, I could hear them. All the literature said that guineas are noisy, but wow, I wasn’t expecting that. The post office was only too happy to get rid of that box. I sped home, eager to get them into the brood box and advise G that his keets were in the house!

It was better than Christmas morning for him. The smile didn’t come off his face as he watched the little balls of fluff racing around their new home. It quickly became apparent that the fluff extended to their tiny bird brains. I’d read that you shouldn’t put a deep water dish in for them because they’re prone to drowning, and sure enough, it seemed like every two minutes, they were tripping over their spindly little legs and landing in the dish. We quickly put some rocks in the dish to make it even shallower.

Excited kids and flighty little keets are not a good combination. I’d read that the birds are very easily stressed out, and after their overnight flight, and dispatch to their new home, I thought they’d had about enough. Coming home to a bunch of kids who just wanted to play with them was a recipe for disaster. Within minutes, G and E had picked out distinctive markings and started naming them. I’ve been on the farm long enough to know that a lot can go wrong with teeny, tiny babies, and I was worried about how instantly attached they were to the babies.

In the end, we did end up losing a few. I spent a few long nights trying to nurse a few of them back to health, mostly unsuccessfully. The kids learned that sometimes less is more when it comes to handling and “playing” with new pets. And every predator within a several mile radius is probably curious as to what is making the racket in our little brooding shed. Just that quickly, though, they’ve already started to sprout feathers and their attitude has grown as well.

Now, they are quite vocal with G when he tries to change their water or give them food, pecking at him or trying to launch themselves out of the box. Nevertheless, he persists, sure that they recognize their name or that they’re learning a trick. “Mom, they drive me crazy,” he said, “but they’re so much fun to watch.” Yes, G, I understand that feeling quite well myself.

Liz Pinkey is a contributing writer to the Times News. Her column appears weekly in our Saturday feature section.