We have forty-one horses. They are my kids.
We have five llamas. They arevery odd my kids' quirky roommates.
Let me back up a sec. Llamas were not originally part of (what could be misconstrued as) "the plan." They kinda just happened. My mom saw an ad for llamas and convinced my dad to buy a couple, because she had "always wanted" one. But llamas have to have a llama companion or they will get depressed and die. (Yes, that is what is known as a red flag, and we treated it as such. We ignored it.) So my parents set off to buy a couple of llamas and returned with ten. Hang on, let me re-type that...
They returned with TEN.
Since that time, many years ago, we have done close to nothing with our camelids. I mean, we've taken care of the basics - they've had theirpictures taken a lot, vaccinations, deworming and are fed well. A few had some babies (cria), so we took lots more pictures played with the little ones and socialized them. Beyond that, we haven't had time to interact with them on a regular basis. Building this farm and tending to the horses has kept us busy. That finally changed last year.
And now i love llamas.
But then one died.
(Like how i skipped a book's worth of info to bring us back to the topic?)
Mama Llama, a.k.a. Big Mama (the matriarch) took a turn for the worse a couple of months ago.None of the vets around here know a darn thing about llamas. Camelid health professionals are hard to come by in this part of the country. We were on our own.
We checked our llama manual and covered the troubleshooting basics. It was unclear if we were helping. She wasn't going downhill, but she didn't appear to be getting better, either. That is, she wasn't putting on weight nor was she her usual, sassy self.
To make matters worse, the other llamas were following her around looking forlorn and confused. Then they would just show up, like apparitions (as is their way), wherever i was working and stare at me (also their way), as if to say,"aren't you going to do something?" Itscared the crap outta me made me feel awful.
What could we do that we hadn't already done? I followed all of the the llama manual instructions. When i exhausted that resource i googled every llama and llama-related term i could think of. I read medical abstracts and articles from magazines, checked forums, referenced, cross-referenced - on and on and on.
I wanted to yell at them, "I'm sorry, llamas, but this is North America! You are a relatively new species here! AND we're in Kentucky - land of equinids!! Curse whoever brought you to our shores; i don't know how to help you!"
But one look at those big, brown eyes silently pleading with me to help their beloved matriarch shut my mouth and strengthened my resolve to help Big Mama.
Little did i know, we were about to take Llama care to the next level...
(Check back in a day or so for Part 2: "Llama Triage and Emergency Field Care," or "Oh Dear, Perhaps I Should Have Just Shot Her.")
We have five llamas. They are
Let me back up a sec. Llamas were not originally part of (what could be misconstrued as) "the plan." They kinda just happened. My mom saw an ad for llamas and convinced my dad to buy a couple, because she had "always wanted" one. But llamas have to have a llama companion or they will get depressed and die. (Yes, that is what is known as a red flag, and we treated it as such. We ignored it.) So my parents set off to buy a couple of llamas and returned with ten. Hang on, let me re-type that...
They returned with TEN.
Since that time, many years ago, we have done close to nothing with our camelids. I mean, we've taken care of the basics - they've had their
And now i love llamas.
But then one died.
(Like how i skipped a book's worth of info to bring us back to the topic?)
Mama Llama, a.k.a. Big Mama (the matriarch) took a turn for the worse a couple of months ago.
We checked our llama manual and covered the troubleshooting basics. It was unclear if we were helping. She wasn't going downhill, but she didn't appear to be getting better, either. That is, she wasn't putting on weight nor was she her usual, sassy self.
To make matters worse, the other llamas were following her around looking forlorn and confused. Then they would just show up, like apparitions (as is their way), wherever i was working and stare at me (also their way), as if to say,"aren't you going to do something?" It
What could we do that we hadn't already done? I followed all of the the llama manual instructions. When i exhausted that resource i googled every llama and llama-related term i could think of. I read medical abstracts and articles from magazines, checked forums, referenced, cross-referenced - on and on and on.
I wanted to yell at them, "I'm sorry, llamas, but this is North America! You are a relatively new species here! AND we're in Kentucky - land of equinids!! Curse whoever brought you to our shores; i don't know how to help you!"
But one look at those big, brown eyes silently pleading with me to help their beloved matriarch shut my mouth and strengthened my resolve to help Big Mama.
Little did i know, we were about to take Llama care to the next level...
(Check back in a day or so for Part 2: "Llama Triage and Emergency Field Care," or "Oh Dear, Perhaps I Should Have Just Shot Her.")
