My homecoming was exactly as I had hoped. My wonderful, and incredibly patient, husband Ed, was waiting for me at Richmond airport. He intercepted me as I struggled down the hallway lugging my backpack and Zackary (a 16 lb struggling Maine Coone cat).
When I saw him headed towards me, I have never been more grateful in my life. He hoisted the carrier and I hugged him. Traveling with a cat also limits culinary experiences, and I was starving. Within 45 mins we were seated at our local neighborhood restaurant, the Hickory Notch Grill. With an hour I was tucking into fried catfish, hush puppies, collard greens and fried okra. I have been flirting with the idea that I lived another life in the Southern USA. Nothing can satisfy my appetite more than Southern Food.
Opening the door of our farmhouse, I was greeted by a frenzy of canine and feline love. Kisses and frantic purring ensued. I was home!
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
Taking Zackary Home
Sorry it's been so long, but I have been sunning myself on the West Coast. Although it seemed a little soon for a return to Southern California after our move, I actually had a great time. I was working on Ben Affleck's "ARGO." Without exception, the cast and crew were delightful. I also had a chance to see the many friends I had left behind. I spent a few weeks house-sitting in West Toluca Lake for my friend Melissa. The company of Buddy and tricky kitty, Boscoe made life a lot more bearable. What was not so bearable was the commute on the 405. How do people stand it!!
When Melissa returned from Atlanta, I moved to stay with Toni, Jake, Darcy and Riley. The latter being canine. Toni is an awesome friend and stepped up immediately when I was looking for a place to stay in LA (as did my friend Kristin) which made it possible to accept the job.
Once shooting in LA was completed, I headed back to VA together with my feline buddy, Zackary. Zackary is a beautiful Maine Coone that I rescued as a kitten. I placed him with a friend who adored him, but Zackary was missing his familia. No longer a kitten, I was shocked to see how enormous he was when I picked him up from Kimberly. Could he really fit into the carrier I had purchased to get him home??
Once shooting in LA was completed, I headed back to VA together with my feline buddy, Zackary. Zackary is a beautiful Maine Coone that I rescued as a kitten. I placed him with a friend who adored him, but Zackary was missing his familia. No longer a kitten, I was shocked to see how enormous he was when I picked him up from Kimberly. Could he really fit into the carrier I had purchased to get him home??
The only scary episode on the trip home was when I was asked to take Zackary out of his carrier to carry him through security. Scruffing Zackary, I headed through the scanner with confidence until;"Excuse ma'am, you need to remove your shoes. Shoes! I looked desperately at my shoes, my arms full of Maine Coone. No options seem to come to mind. Thankfully, an angel came to my rescue. The woman behind me immediately assesses the situation, she stoops to my feet, and I slip off (thank God I was wearing slides) my shoes, she deposits them in the waiting bin. Bless you lady.
On the other side, I stuffed Zackary back in the carrier and breath a sigh of relief. Slowly I collect my belongings (including the shoes) as I look towards the carrier, I see a magnificent, long tabby body slinking it's way out. Zackary immediately spotting a chink in the zipper, and forced his way through. Fortunately, he was somewhat intimidated by his surroundings, so I leapt on top of him and the carrier zipping in every direction. Heart pounding, I hit the button on the lift ascending to the Red Admiral Lounge anxious for a Bloody Mary. All they had was coffee. Seriously, what exactly are people paying for? Remembering my rescue background, I threw my down coat over the bag. Zackary finally quit yelling. Actually, the silence was a lot more comforting than the Bloody Mary. I was finally on my way home
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Earthquakes and Hurricane's!!
We moved to a peaceful spot in Virginia to escape the ever encroaching fires, and inevitable earthquakes. Since we moved in December, 2010 we have experienced a Tornado touching down a mile from the farm; two weeks ago an earthquake had it's epi-centre 21.27 miles from the farm and Hurricane Irene barely skirted us, thank goodness, leaving the farm looking like a tossed salad.
Last year was a drought, this year the ground is thoroughly sodden and oak trees are falling around us like acorns. There are blessings to be had though. The grass is green and we have more than enough firewood to see us through the winter. Texas would give anything to be in our soggy shoes. If we can wish for anything, let's all send our thoughts and some of our rain there to help their nightmarish situation.
The earthquake was a big event. Ed was at our local Wells Fargo branch in Goochland. When it started to shake, he stepped well away from the building. Within a few seconds, people began tumbling out yelling "what the hell was that." Ed's presence quickly brought calm. He stepped forward and offered, "I am from California, and that, was an earthquake."
My recent silence is due to the fact that I am currently working in Los Angeles to bring in enough dosh to pay the mortgage. I landed on my feet as my friend Melissa, a wonderful stills photographer, was going out of town to work in Georgia. She needed a pet sitter and I needed a place to stay so all worked out to mutual benefit.
It's a very strange experience, pet sitting. Suddenly, Amanda, wife of Ed, mother of 6 dogs, 5 cats and 35 Alpacas, a farmer living in Virginia is now;Amanda, film publicist, living in West Toluca Lake with a wonderful lab called Buddy and a tricky cat, called Boscoe.
Both lives have their pros and cons. One of the greatest pros has been the opportunity to spend time with all my LA friends and also, work on my black thumb. I actually managed to keep a wide variety of plants alive and revive some dying tomato plants. There is hope for me yet.
Last year was a drought, this year the ground is thoroughly sodden and oak trees are falling around us like acorns. There are blessings to be had though. The grass is green and we have more than enough firewood to see us through the winter. Texas would give anything to be in our soggy shoes. If we can wish for anything, let's all send our thoughts and some of our rain there to help their nightmarish situation.
The earthquake was a big event. Ed was at our local Wells Fargo branch in Goochland. When it started to shake, he stepped well away from the building. Within a few seconds, people began tumbling out yelling "what the hell was that." Ed's presence quickly brought calm. He stepped forward and offered, "I am from California, and that, was an earthquake."
My recent silence is due to the fact that I am currently working in Los Angeles to bring in enough dosh to pay the mortgage. I landed on my feet as my friend Melissa, a wonderful stills photographer, was going out of town to work in Georgia. She needed a pet sitter and I needed a place to stay so all worked out to mutual benefit.
It's a very strange experience, pet sitting. Suddenly, Amanda, wife of Ed, mother of 6 dogs, 5 cats and 35 Alpacas, a farmer living in Virginia is now;Amanda, film publicist, living in West Toluca Lake with a wonderful lab called Buddy and a tricky cat, called Boscoe.
Both lives have their pros and cons. One of the greatest pros has been the opportunity to spend time with all my LA friends and also, work on my black thumb. I actually managed to keep a wide variety of plants alive and revive some dying tomato plants. There is hope for me yet.
Sunday, August 7, 2011
WATER WATER EVERYWHERE AND NOT A DROP TO DRINK
The importance of something we take totally for granted, water, was brought home to us in a big way this weekend. We had decided to throw a house-warming B-B-Q for our neighbors, the formers owners, now dear friends, and new friends we had made since moving to Virginia.
As usual, I spent the whole day picking up enough food to feed everyone in Goochland County whilst Ed set up the party area in the backyard. When I got back, the Volvo heaved its way up the driveway, completely full of every imaginable ingredient for a cook-out.
Ed was busy hosing off the patio when he called out to me. "Honey, are you running water for something?" In a panic, I ran to the sink and turned on the tap. Nothing!
We were an hour away from the guests arriving and the pump for the well had quit. It had been a terrible month. First the air conditioning quit (5 weeks later we are still waiting for the warranty company to complete the repairs. Note to self: Find new warranty company). The tractor died, as well as the lawnmower, and now the pump. Ed immediately changed the name of the business to "Broke Down Farm," and sank into a deep depression.
Fortunately, we are both in the motion picture business, and ingenuity is the number one skill required to succeed. Ed dragged the water dispenser from the barn. I pulled the dozen gallons bottle of water we had stored in the freezer. I used a little of the precious substance to boil the eggs (no party amounts to anything with out deviled eggs). I poured the boiled water into the sink to wash the dishes. Ed set out every bucket we possessed, and we prayed for rain. Not something you would normally do with 20 people on the way for an outside party. Unfortunately, our prayers to date have not been answered despite the predicted thunderstorms.
The party was anenormous success. Ed and I have a tradition of throwing large parties. In Moorpark, we always held a 4th July party and gradually, over the years, the numbers increased to around 60 people. With a few exceptions, they were all animal people. Friends I worked with at Animal Rescue Volunteers, Alpaca owners and breeders, dog trainers, staff from the Camarillo Animal Shelter, Vets, and dog lovers. Some people would bring their dogs, so added to the nine we had at the time, it was bedlam.
Exhausted, we sat outside on the veranda enjoying a refreshing evening breeze, but no rain. A smile crept over my face. No water, no washing up!
As usual, I spent the whole day picking up enough food to feed everyone in Goochland County whilst Ed set up the party area in the backyard. When I got back, the Volvo heaved its way up the driveway, completely full of every imaginable ingredient for a cook-out.
Ed was busy hosing off the patio when he called out to me. "Honey, are you running water for something?" In a panic, I ran to the sink and turned on the tap. Nothing!
We were an hour away from the guests arriving and the pump for the well had quit. It had been a terrible month. First the air conditioning quit (5 weeks later we are still waiting for the warranty company to complete the repairs. Note to self: Find new warranty company). The tractor died, as well as the lawnmower, and now the pump. Ed immediately changed the name of the business to "Broke Down Farm," and sank into a deep depression.
Fortunately, we are both in the motion picture business, and ingenuity is the number one skill required to succeed. Ed dragged the water dispenser from the barn. I pulled the dozen gallons bottle of water we had stored in the freezer. I used a little of the precious substance to boil the eggs (no party amounts to anything with out deviled eggs). I poured the boiled water into the sink to wash the dishes. Ed set out every bucket we possessed, and we prayed for rain. Not something you would normally do with 20 people on the way for an outside party. Unfortunately, our prayers to date have not been answered despite the predicted thunderstorms.
The party was anenormous success. Ed and I have a tradition of throwing large parties. In Moorpark, we always held a 4th July party and gradually, over the years, the numbers increased to around 60 people. With a few exceptions, they were all animal people. Friends I worked with at Animal Rescue Volunteers, Alpaca owners and breeders, dog trainers, staff from the Camarillo Animal Shelter, Vets, and dog lovers. Some people would bring their dogs, so added to the nine we had at the time, it was bedlam.
Exhausted, we sat outside on the veranda enjoying a refreshing evening breeze, but no rain. A smile crept over my face. No water, no washing up!
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
DRAMATIC RESCUE OF ALPACAS FROM A FEARSOME PREDATOR
The day started quietly enough. Although I am a pretty good cook, I had never attempted baking. As a new member of a country community, I felt that I was somewhat lacking in not be able to put delicious baked goods on my table. A bunch of ripened bananas hung on the counter and I was inspired. I would make a banana and nut loaf. In what seemed a ridiculously short time, the batter was in the loaf pan and soon amazing fragrances filled the kitchen. Could it really be this simple, I wondered why I had put this off for so long.
I decided to tackle the bread machine. A few attempts had ended in disaster, but I was bound and determined to bake a loaf. 3 hours later a light rye loaf lay on the rack, (actually it been a nightmare to get it out of the pan, so it was rather damaged, but still highly edible).
After Ed and I sat down to eat a delicious pot roast, the clouds started to gather and drops of rain splattered the windows. We immediately headed for the porch. Since we moved to the farm we have virtually stopped watching TV, preferring to sit and relax on our beautiful veranda as we would say in England. I had splashed out on some really comfortable furniture and it was bliss to sit there in the evening surrounded by green and listening to the cicadas and frogs compete.
The storm quickly turned furious, thunder cracked overhead and the sky lit up like a flashing neon sign. Rain lashed the pastures and Ed decided to check on the Alpacas.
As I looked out into the darkness I saw Ed frantically waving the torch. I headed down to the front pasture where I saw the girls huddled in a frightened group in the centre of the field. A perfect target for the savage lighting that was striking all around. Across the street one bolt hit a tree in an orange arc. It was not a good idea to be out in this storm, but we needed to get the girls to shelter. As rain lashed my face, I shouted to Ed and asked him what they were afraid of. It was the neighborhood cat, a huge orange Tom whom the Alpacas had already identified as a tiger. Trying to herd Alpacas into a shelter that housed a predator as terrifying as this is no easy task. We ran hither and thither with arms outstretched in the herding pose that only Alpaca owners can identify with, finally as one, they dashed into safety as the cat streaked out the back of the barn in fear of his own life as they thundered in.
Soaked to the skin, we ran back to the safety of our shelter, the porch where it was so cold I had to run up to get a blanket, this when a few days ago it was 115 degrees with the head index. Reveling in the chill, we sat and watched as the storm raged around us, we were lit by candlelight and the flashing sky.
I decided to tackle the bread machine. A few attempts had ended in disaster, but I was bound and determined to bake a loaf. 3 hours later a light rye loaf lay on the rack, (actually it been a nightmare to get it out of the pan, so it was rather damaged, but still highly edible).
After Ed and I sat down to eat a delicious pot roast, the clouds started to gather and drops of rain splattered the windows. We immediately headed for the porch. Since we moved to the farm we have virtually stopped watching TV, preferring to sit and relax on our beautiful veranda as we would say in England. I had splashed out on some really comfortable furniture and it was bliss to sit there in the evening surrounded by green and listening to the cicadas and frogs compete.
The storm quickly turned furious, thunder cracked overhead and the sky lit up like a flashing neon sign. Rain lashed the pastures and Ed decided to check on the Alpacas.
As I looked out into the darkness I saw Ed frantically waving the torch. I headed down to the front pasture where I saw the girls huddled in a frightened group in the centre of the field. A perfect target for the savage lighting that was striking all around. Across the street one bolt hit a tree in an orange arc. It was not a good idea to be out in this storm, but we needed to get the girls to shelter. As rain lashed my face, I shouted to Ed and asked him what they were afraid of. It was the neighborhood cat, a huge orange Tom whom the Alpacas had already identified as a tiger. Trying to herd Alpacas into a shelter that housed a predator as terrifying as this is no easy task. We ran hither and thither with arms outstretched in the herding pose that only Alpaca owners can identify with, finally as one, they dashed into safety as the cat streaked out the back of the barn in fear of his own life as they thundered in.
Soaked to the skin, we ran back to the safety of our shelter, the porch where it was so cold I had to run up to get a blanket, this when a few days ago it was 115 degrees with the head index. Reveling in the chill, we sat and watched as the storm raged around us, we were lit by candlelight and the flashing sky.
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
HOW FAST THEY GROW
In what seemed to be no time at all, Triton grew from a cuddly cria into a full grown male with love on his mind. He was a beauty and had no problem getting attention from the girls. A friend of mine described him as the 'George Clooney' of the animal world with his huge dark soulful eyes.
Breeding Alpacas is done the old-fashioned way. Triton got the hang of it pretty darned fast. You bring the female into the breeding pen and if she kushes (hits the ground) she is receptive for breeding. Alpacas only ovulate in the presence of a male, how sensible is that. In order for her to ovulate, the male has to sing to her. It called 'orgling'. Once the breeding has taken place, the animals are taken back to their pastures. Once a week for three weeks the females are 'spit tested', this means you put them back in the breeding pen, this time with the female on a halter and rope. This can get a little dangerous, firstly because if the female is pregnant she will avoid the male at ALL COSTS! This often involves racing around in circles and spitting out copious amounts of a green noxious fluid that she has collected in her mouth. For some reason, Ed seems to be the recipient of this no matter how he positions himself. He now spit tests using goggles!!
As Ed was away when we were breeding Triton and Tameka, I had to undertake the spit testing myself. The first time Triton looked dismayed and confused as I pulled his partner out of the gate before he could mount her. The second time he was pissed. He decided that if he couldn't have her, I was a shabby second, but oh well.
He raised up on his back legs and slammed me against the fence. Fortunately, I have cultivated an 'alfa bitch' attitude from working with all the rescue dogs and verbally let him have it. He looked balefully at me, chagrined.
Believe it or not, Alpacas can be very sensitive and some of them cannot be used for spit-testing because the constant rejection from the females can turn them off completely.
Triton fortunately was not one of them, he loved his job and took it very seriously. We were eager to see babies on the ground so we loaned him to a friend to breed a couple of her females. That was when we learned about fighting teeth.
Adult male Alpacas have razor sharp fighting teeth which have to be either filed down or removed. Why? Because in an extremely efficient method of survival of the fittest, males can castrate other males with these teeth. One day when visiting Triton, as he stretched up to eat yet another fruitless mulberry leaf I noticed a huge hole in one of his testicles. Icy dread crept through my heart, here was my beautiful Champion herdsire with a hole in his testicle! Not good. I instantly called the vet who reassured me that all may not be lost, he still had another one! It took several weeks to heal up and the scar is a constant reminder to keep checking the males for those teeth. Fortunately, it didn't affect his fertility in any way. Phew!
Breeding Alpacas is done the old-fashioned way. Triton got the hang of it pretty darned fast. You bring the female into the breeding pen and if she kushes (hits the ground) she is receptive for breeding. Alpacas only ovulate in the presence of a male, how sensible is that. In order for her to ovulate, the male has to sing to her. It called 'orgling'. Once the breeding has taken place, the animals are taken back to their pastures. Once a week for three weeks the females are 'spit tested', this means you put them back in the breeding pen, this time with the female on a halter and rope. This can get a little dangerous, firstly because if the female is pregnant she will avoid the male at ALL COSTS! This often involves racing around in circles and spitting out copious amounts of a green noxious fluid that she has collected in her mouth. For some reason, Ed seems to be the recipient of this no matter how he positions himself. He now spit tests using goggles!!
As Ed was away when we were breeding Triton and Tameka, I had to undertake the spit testing myself. The first time Triton looked dismayed and confused as I pulled his partner out of the gate before he could mount her. The second time he was pissed. He decided that if he couldn't have her, I was a shabby second, but oh well.
He raised up on his back legs and slammed me against the fence. Fortunately, I have cultivated an 'alfa bitch' attitude from working with all the rescue dogs and verbally let him have it. He looked balefully at me, chagrined.
Believe it or not, Alpacas can be very sensitive and some of them cannot be used for spit-testing because the constant rejection from the females can turn them off completely.
Triton fortunately was not one of them, he loved his job and took it very seriously. We were eager to see babies on the ground so we loaned him to a friend to breed a couple of her females. That was when we learned about fighting teeth.
Adult male Alpacas have razor sharp fighting teeth which have to be either filed down or removed. Why? Because in an extremely efficient method of survival of the fittest, males can castrate other males with these teeth. One day when visiting Triton, as he stretched up to eat yet another fruitless mulberry leaf I noticed a huge hole in one of his testicles. Icy dread crept through my heart, here was my beautiful Champion herdsire with a hole in his testicle! Not good. I instantly called the vet who reassured me that all may not be lost, he still had another one! It took several weeks to heal up and the scar is a constant reminder to keep checking the males for those teeth. Fortunately, it didn't affect his fertility in any way. Phew!
Monday, July 25, 2011
TRITON WON MY HEART
A tiny coal black cria won my heart. Triton has a strong personality, the number one requirement in all my animals. He was obsessed with cribbing, not the greatest habit, but adorable. He continues to do it as an adult. Last winter we put up screens to protect the alpacas from the vicious winds. Triton's obsession with design prompted him to turn these into more attractive venetian blinds, the other boys thought this a fine pursuit and soon we had a complete set of perfectly pleated screens.
When I first started volunteering at Alpacas At Windy Hills, one of my duties was to halter train the show babies. I began walking Triton and we bonded immediately. He loved to walk around the farm strutting past the girls, but clucking like a baby to me constantly.
One sunny California afternoon, Ed and I took a ride out to Somis to hang out on the ranch where Cindy Harris was having a pen sale. In the long string of pens, there was my boy. Being impulsive is a part of my nature, and it usually works out, so by the end of the day Ed and I owned our first Alpaca. Buying an unproven Junior Herdsire is not normally recommended to begin your foundation herd, but when have I ever followed the crowd. Triton was beautiful cria with gorgeous fleece, great conformation and a sweet personality, that was good enough for me and I have never regretted that purchase. He is giving us beautiful crias, and his son Centarus, who is a Kobe/King Kong grandson is spectacular. Best of all they all inherit his personality, one of his sons, Jasper Alpaca, is the first certified therapy Alpaca and has his own Facebook page.
When I first started volunteering at Alpacas At Windy Hills, one of my duties was to halter train the show babies. I began walking Triton and we bonded immediately. He loved to walk around the farm strutting past the girls, but clucking like a baby to me constantly.
One sunny California afternoon, Ed and I took a ride out to Somis to hang out on the ranch where Cindy Harris was having a pen sale. In the long string of pens, there was my boy. Being impulsive is a part of my nature, and it usually works out, so by the end of the day Ed and I owned our first Alpaca. Buying an unproven Junior Herdsire is not normally recommended to begin your foundation herd, but when have I ever followed the crowd. Triton was beautiful cria with gorgeous fleece, great conformation and a sweet personality, that was good enough for me and I have never regretted that purchase. He is giving us beautiful crias, and his son Centarus, who is a Kobe/King Kong grandson is spectacular. Best of all they all inherit his personality, one of his sons, Jasper Alpaca, is the first certified therapy Alpaca and has his own Facebook page.
The best part was that we now had a cria to take to shows and Triton was so much fun in the ring and he WON!
The first two years he won ribbon after ribbon, there is nothing like being in the ring holding that blue ribbon..
Sunday, July 24, 2011
BACK TO MY ROOTS
So jumping in 6 months after we moved here didn't satisfy the fans. So I am going back to the beginning.
About 5 years ago, my husband Ed, who you will come to know intimately because he is the backbone of the farm, and I were looking for something to do together.
Note: we also need to do something to help our tax situation, which was definitely the reason we actually moved forward. To digress slightly, Section 179 which is an agriculture deduction, gives a significant tax break to anyone investing in farming. The deduction can be set against both W2 and 1099 income. Check out this website: http://www.section179.org/section_179_deduction.html
Long story short, I spotted an article in the Ventura Country Star (probably the most significant newspaper in our lives as it previously led us to animal rescue) but more of that later.
I misplaced the article and decided to Google alpaca ranches in the Somis area. I came up with Alpacas At Windy Hills (not the farm in the article). Serendipity has always played a big part of my life and we were meant to meet Cindy and Doug, who ran the ranch.
I began volunteering there while Ed was working on a movie in Hawaii. I instantly fell in love with a mischievous, lovable, and talkative cria named Triton.
About 5 years ago, my husband Ed, who you will come to know intimately because he is the backbone of the farm, and I were looking for something to do together.
Note: we also need to do something to help our tax situation, which was definitely the reason we actually moved forward. To digress slightly, Section 179 which is an agriculture deduction, gives a significant tax break to anyone investing in farming. The deduction can be set against both W2 and 1099 income. Check out this website: http://www.section179.org/section_179_deduction.html
Section 179 for 2011 at a glance:
- 2011 Deduction Limit - $500,000 (up from $250k previously). Good on new and used equipment, including new software.
- 2011 Limit on equipment purchases - $2 Million Dollars (up from $800k previously).
- “Bonus” Depreciation - 100% (taken after the $500k deduction limit is reached). Note, bonus depreciation is only for new equipment. This can also be taken by businesses that exceed $2 million in capital equipment purchases.
The above is an overall, “simplified” view of the Section 179 Deduction for 2011. For more details on limits and qualifying equipment, as well as Section 179 Qualified Financing, please peruse this entire website.
Long story short, I spotted an article in the Ventura Country Star (probably the most significant newspaper in our lives as it previously led us to animal rescue) but more of that later.
I misplaced the article and decided to Google alpaca ranches in the Somis area. I came up with Alpacas At Windy Hills (not the farm in the article). Serendipity has always played a big part of my life and we were meant to meet Cindy and Doug, who ran the ranch.
I began volunteering there while Ed was working on a movie in Hawaii. I instantly fell in love with a mischievous, lovable, and talkative cria named Triton.
JUST ANOTHER QUIET DAY ON THE FARM
The day started pretty quietly giving no indication of what was to come. The 4H kids who were coming for a fecal class arrived at 9.00am although we were expecting them at 10.00am. No problem, lovely kids who came bearing gifts of scones made with home grown herbs, garlic, parmesan cheese and sun-dried tomatoes.
We began the day by ultra-sounding some of our pregnant females. Our vet, Melinda, showed the kids where they could find the beating heart of the cria. They were enthralled. Tom Parrish, who helps us on the farm (we couldn't do it without him and Jessica), walked through the pasture and started waving his arms wildly. There was a baby on the ground.
The previous day, Tom and I had spent the day watching Shiny Boots whose back end was protruding in an alarming manner. We had not expected a good ending to the pregnancy, but here was a huge male cria already trying to get up. Class was interrupted to take care of Mom and baby. Just as we crowded around, a truck and trailer pulled into the drive. Here were our new Llamas, Bella and Tattoo. We had bought them the previous week from Llama guru, Page McGraith, to help protect our crias from predators.
Ed and Teri, took care of Mom and her new son, while Paige and I led the girls out of the trailer. They stayed wide-eyed at their new home, but followed us willing into the pasture which thanks to the recent rains, were green and lush.
We began the day by ultra-sounding some of our pregnant females. Our vet, Melinda, showed the kids where they could find the beating heart of the cria. They were enthralled. Tom Parrish, who helps us on the farm (we couldn't do it without him and Jessica), walked through the pasture and started waving his arms wildly. There was a baby on the ground.
The previous day, Tom and I had spent the day watching Shiny Boots whose back end was protruding in an alarming manner. We had not expected a good ending to the pregnancy, but here was a huge male cria already trying to get up. Class was interrupted to take care of Mom and baby. Just as we crowded around, a truck and trailer pulled into the drive. Here were our new Llamas, Bella and Tattoo. We had bought them the previous week from Llama guru, Page McGraith, to help protect our crias from predators.
Ed and Teri, took care of Mom and her new son, while Paige and I led the girls out of the trailer. They stayed wide-eyed at their new home, but followed us willing into the pasture which thanks to the recent rains, were green and lush.
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