What I knew about llamas when I entered the barn, after a three-day holiday away from the farm, I could write with a magic marker on a single thumbnail.
I wasn’t even aware that they boasted a spelling with a double L.
But there they were, two sets of upright banana-shaped ears pointing in my direction. Directly below were two sets of large, intelligent-looking eyes that seemed to be staring me down. Not really so, but they as I were simply trying to figure out exactly what their eyes were seeing.
Their llama wisdom had not yet been blessed with viewing a beast of burden quite like Jennie, my jitney, which scooted along so quietly along the smooth barn floor surface. It ran a close second to the lightness of their footsteps.
After petting Sage, the riding horse that had arrived with them, and returning to their stall, they showed no sign of shyness, yet when I stood up and reached out to them, they quietly stepped away. Time and familiarity, I know, will change this.
What I learned in the next few moments was that they were ours to keep, as they needed a new home, and Sage, the seven-year-old appaloosa mare, was boarding with us. So be it. I had things to learn.
Firstly, I consulted the book on llamas that had been lying around the house for a time, which I knew not of. Its paperback was slightly creased from use and dog-eared on the corners. The publishing dated back to the mid-1970s. I read the primary introduction and from there I punched into Google.
The introductory lingo that came up on the Internet was much similar to that of the book, although it strayed often to individual trials and tribulations. Basically, in a tiny nutshell, here is what I have learned.
Llama ancestry stemmed from North America 40 million years ago. Forced to move south by the ice age, they found the high-up mountain ranges to their liking. Eventually they were domesticated by the Incas who used them as pack animals and for their fine fleece fibre for clothing.
From Bolivia and Chile, they were imported to North America and became popular during the 1970s and 1980s. It was later, when the high prices of breeding stock dropped, that they became popular as family pets, making intelligent and alert companions.
Leading a llama is like taking a balloon for a walk. They do not have the clip-clop of a horse or the tick-tick of the cleft hooves of sheep and goats. They simply pussyfoot along, similar to Mike and Molly, our two roving mice-catching barn cats.
So now you know, folks, just as much as I do about llamas.
Ain’t education wonderful?
Take care, ‘cause we care.
barrie@barriehopkins.ca
519-986-4105