Montana Large Animal Sanctuary - The Llamas Move On, So Must I

There is no dust at the Montana Large Animal Sanctuary to settle. At least not yet. There is dirt, then snow as you might expect during a Montana winter and bone freezing cold, then mud frozen in some places and oozing in others. Then the snow and the freeze. There is an overwhelming sense of melancholy and sadness when I think that by the time there is dust to settle in Montana, this disaster will have faded from most people's memories. Those that have seen and touched the llamas will never forget, others will remember it as 'something bad happened'.

As of today, the final evacuation of the surviving llamas is in the end game and the last of the transportation is on auto-pilot. As I write this llamas are being loaded to go to Washington State, followed by the transport of llamas to California. A small group of special needs llamas will be going to Colorado, and a few will be removed from the Sanctuary but staying in Montana. They will all finally be gone from their own private hell that was supposed to be sanctuary.

Those that didn't survive remain where they were dumped by uncaring hands of prior caretakers- in the death ditch. The land is there, the buildings are there and there are plans to sell the property by the self-centered member of the board of directors of the Sanctuary. The ghosts of the dead will wander the land forever. I hope the new owners appreciate these ghosts bring their own special power and spirit to the land's new and hopefully brighter future.

The llamas that managed to survive have found their third chance at life. I have made my peace with my own helplessness to save them, but thanks to the efforts of others, hundreds have found new homes. I have said my private prayer for those that have died, and may still die despite the best efforts of others greater in strength of resolve than I.

This should be a moment of glorious celebration but instead I am left with anger and the foul taste of deceit and lies that penetrates deep into my soul. Outside of the llama community, organizations spun wheels within wheels within wheels playing politics and games creating obstacles and telling lies upon lies to anyone who would listen. Self possessed and self serving individuals wrote glorious diatribes about their personal sacrifices, focussing more often than not on their efforts to save lives when in the end 4 llamas were put to death. The pain and suffering these four llamas continued to have at this grandiose savior's hands was unnecessary. Her all consuming narcissism was incapable of grasping any reality but her own. They should have been put down long before the first of the year. She claimed to care yet interfered at every turn, disrupting evacuation arrangements, and has threatened to collaborate with others to malign the integrity and efforts of hundreds of people across the country who successfully evacuated the llamas long before she imposed her philosophies into the mix of problems being confronted by the llamas and the people who WERE helping. These same people will be the ones that continue on caring for the llamas and finding them homes long after she slinks back to her corner of the world and shouts to anyone who will listen that she alone saved the llamas. And so....

It is time for me to not so quietly move on. It is time to focus on my life, my family, and my llamas. Everyone will have versions of lessons learned from the disaster that was the Montana Large Animal Sanctuary. Mine is perhaps self centered and selfish when looked at by others, but is true to my heart and recognizes for the first time in more than a decade since I found the magic that llamas have brought to my life, what my limits are. I should be celebrating that the llamas will live on in new lives, but I am filled with anger.

It is time for privacy, for quiet, and for peace in my life. Good night, god bless, and may you all find peace in your lives.

Lilly the Llama a Battle against Odds

Her whole story starts long before the wonderfully dedicated people from Midwest Farm Animal Rescue in Wisconsin were contacted to help out with what they thought was just a little injury in a llama. Well it turned out to much much worse. But they, and Lilly have not given up.

PLEASE take the time to read the story about Lilly's courage so far.




















There is nothing more heartbreaking while at the same time soul inspiring than watching humans and animals work in harmony to overcome obstacles for survival.

Lilly's story is best told by the people who have committed themselves to making the end of this story as sucessful as possible for Lilly.

Perhaps the most exciting piece of news recieved today is that Lilly is home, recovering and now eating! Time and dedication will drive her recovery now.

Unfortunately as you read her story, there is also the ugly harsh realities of money spent for her surgery and post surgical expenses.

You will find that reality also shared on the pages being dedicated to her by the people at Midwest Farm Animal Rescue.

It's alway a bad time to ask for money, and with the economy and people's lives in the kind of turmoil it is in now, it is doubly difficult.

As a family faced with many of the same hardships this economy is presenting to all of us, we found some money stashed away to help. And so I hope can you.

Llamas Rescued for Now

Today was supposed to be a good day and when all was said and done it ended that way.

Woke up to rain that quickly and I do indeed mean QUICKLY turned to snow. I am up without fail very close to 5am as a rule, and by 6 it was snowing. By 6:30 the satellite dish transponder was covered with snow, so
Up on the rooftop
Click, click, click
Down thru the chimney with
Good Saint Nick went I...
But unlike Good Saint Nick nearly slid my way back down again. Our woodstove chimney was the only thing that kept me up there.
AND today of all days the Danby Rd Llama Girls were to finally leave their horse stall life for the past 3 plus weeks to a foster home.

Well by 7am there was 4" of snow on the ground with no real indication of letting up. By 10:30 the temperatures were moderating and it had stopped snowing and changed to rain.
Grabbed Chloe, hooked up the horse trailer and down the road we went to re-locate the Danby girls to their new for now and probably knock wood forever home.

Below find them discovering their new digs. They have a bit more than 4 acres to romp on, and I do wish that I had taken my video camera with me to share with you their excitment over being out in the open for the first time in 3 plus weeks! ALL of them spent 20 minutes or more exploring the fence line, then just started jumping and snorting and pronking with the spirit and magic that only those who have watched or own llamas can knowing and cherish. Their new care giver was attentive to every answer to every question she asked and she asked ALL the right questions. Their shelter is a touch smaller than might be 'perfect', but it is solid, built against the weather and will accomodate all 4. We talked about the roughened concrete floor and the need for deep bedding preferably straw, and she immediately went and got 2 bales of HAY to put down because "I don't have any straw right now, and something is better than nothing".




It soften the edges a bit for me, and I know for Chloe over losing Sunny yesterday. This woman knows nothing about llamas, has never owned or interacted with them, but her heart and soul is in the right place and she has all the tools and basic skills to get them healthier than they are now, and wants to learn.

I will take that for now.

Autumn Leaves and Moments of Clarity

Last week has indeed been strange and has thrown me into the wonderful world of being A COMMUTER. I was dispatched to work a job in Lake Forest Park Washington. Well actually Kenmore, but that is moot to the subject at hand.

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The actual final round trip mileage is 165 miles. I leave the house at 5:00am and arrive at the job site at 6:30 give or take 5 or 10 minutes. What you have to realize of course is that we actually don't start working until 7:30, BUT this is the I-5 corridor through all of Pierce and King Counties here in my beloved Washington State and were I to leave the house at 6am, the travel time would make it impossible to arrive on time. By proof is my travel time at the end of the day. We generally quit for the day between 3:30 and 4pm. On Wednesday this week the trip home took 2 hours for the same 82 miles. On Thursday the trip took 2 1/2 hours, and on FRIDAY it took me a complete 3 hours to get home. No accidents, no getting off the freeway, no disaster weather, just an obscene volume of traffic that makes it impossible to get anywhere fast. I actually spent more than 2 hours on Friday driving my little Kia Rio in second gear!!!

So that all makes a 40 hour work week expand to 60+ hours and lord help me the day there is actually an accident in either direction on the freeway; everything comes to a dead standstill regardless of which direction the accident is in. Don't know if this is unique to the PNW, but a southbound accident will bring northbound traffic to a dead stop so everyone, and I do mean EVERYONE has an morbidly obscene desire to hopefully catch some real gore laying sprawled across the freeway.

So here's how the day lays out. Up at 4am leave the house at 5am work 8 hours, drive home, arrive home between 6 and 7pm and go to bed at 8pm just to start the whole thing all over again. I get at best a grand total of 2 hours time awake at the end of the day.

What this also means is that Chloe is stuck dealing with ALL of the chores on our little farm. Besides the usual things she does, cooking, cleaning, laundry, and grocery shopping AFTER working a full time job, she needs to feed and water all the animals. She has to keep the fire going [literally] since this is our sole source of heat, and deal with any of the crisis things that happen when you own as many llamas as we do.

I seriously considered finding a place to stay up north in order to avoid the constant driving, but then did the math. The cheapest motel room I could find with even the closest thing to moderately sanitary was 45 dollars a night. Again comes math and money. I get 38 miles to the gallon which means right now with the crash in gasoline prices, it only costs me 7.50 to drive round trip per day. Yes I spend 4 hours minimum on the road, but 45 per night for 5 nights is 18% of my gross earnings for the week. Despite the time spent on the road over a 5 day period I get to keep another 187.00 in my pocket for the 20 hours additional road time. Time may indeed be money and that may not sound like a lot of money to many, but that money saved in one week pays the monthly phone and electric bill. So what's a guy to do but grin and bear it.

Where or where you may ask are the Autumn Leaves and Moments of Clarity? When you are driving down the road travelling between 10 and 20 miles an hour for 1 to 2 hours on the way home, you have lots of time to look around you and unfortunately even more time to think. And given it is now November there is lots of fall color in the mix of alder, maple, sweetgum, cedar, fir and the occasional wild growing apple or cherry or pear tree on the slopes along the freeway. And its quite pretty. Its not the colors that blaze across the higher country of Eastern Washington, but close enough to remind me of my much much younger days on the east coast with fall colors from oak and hickory and ash and elm and birch and willow and maple and any number of other hardwoods that emblazen the natural landscapes of rural east coast communities. And there in lies THE CLARITY. Remember I told you when driving mindlessly your mind is anything but mindless. It makes huge leaps in directions you often are not prepared for.

That was then, this is now and the little moments are all I have. It's all about money and survival, the life I have now is what it is. Harsh economic times on a broader level and even harsher economic times on the home front have forced me to 'go where the work is' in an almost Steinbeck novel way. It's not the Great Depression, but things are bad enough that every action and every decisions starts with 'what's it going to cost'? Not in any grand metaphysical sense of emotions or risks to relationships but in real raw dollars. What price glory has been reduced to a simple what price.

THE CLARITY is that what I have now is quite possibly as good as it will get after all the changes the past two years have brought, and while I have not resigned myself to this life, it certainly has become the way of things. And worst of all is I am getting used to it.
Night work shifts averaging 12-18 hours with some as long as 25 hours, being ready to jump in the car at a moments notice and head off to a job somewhere working for a day here or a week there, often for people who not only don't know your name, but don't want to. Packing meals to go that have to be eaten while you work because the boss de jour doesn't believe that there are rules about meal breaks for a reason becomes the norm. Having to ask permission to use a porta-potty or a bush becomes a way of life, and waiting often for 2 or three hours to get that two minute becomes the rule rather than the exception.

But the bottom line is still always money. There is no pride just the fall if you choose not to take what's given how and when it's given. There are way too many people standing in line behind you to even pause to ask the normal questions about 'work conditions' that might have been a part of my past, and others' pasts.

I still apply for jobs that have some consistency and reliability, but it's to the point now where the numbers of people looking for work is so huge that most employers [even state and local government agencies and school districts] aren't even bothering to send out letters saying thanks but no thanks.

So what started out as simply commuting to make a buck turns into time spent looking at what should be beautiful Autumn Leaves and viola Moments of Clarity.

IT Happens When You Aren't looking

So long ago and yet not, I was 20. Grand and proud and subjecting myself to abuses and experimentations and travels doing things that remain parts of the hauntings of my life now, and I thought all was great with the world.

And then I was 25 with a real job and a real girlfriend with a son and then we married.

I woke up one day at its 30 years later. No children but married to my fourth wife, many many many jobs later and wondering now what happened to my life that once asked not for fame or fortune but simply for fullfillment. It's a new kind of resignation when you realize
that the life you thought you might have filled with children and comfort is now filled with doubts about self and hopes for a quiet happy future.
Who I am now, what I am now, is the sum of what I've done, but attempting to wrap around what it is I have done for 55 years is elusive. Scary to say the least. And that is what happens when you aren't looking. Life Happens when you aren't looking, and it happens even if you are looking.

If this is what a mid-life crisis is all about, I am VERY NOT IMPRESSED.

In Rememberance of the Llamas

This by far the longest entry I have ever made in this blog, but sometimes emotions run deep.
This September will mark the 8th Anniversary of LLAMAS in our lives. There have been moments of GLORIOUS joy and HORRIFIC sadness that have been a part of it.
But in the deepest of reflections I would not change a moment of it, and just cannot like many llama owners, imagine a life without them embedded into my soul. And yet, eventually as we age, and our llamas age there is an underlying piece of my mind buried and hidden that knows this day may come to pass. I suppose what triggered this more than anything was the fact that yesterday marked the 6th anniversary of the first born llama on our farm, Royce's King Aslan
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Born May 8, 2002, died October 2003 he was with us for just a short brief blip in the grander scheme of things, but was the epitome of ALL THAT IS GREAT AND WONDERFUL about llamas. His soul and spirit truly reflected his namesake, Aslan from the Narnia Chronicles and rarely does a day pass, that I don't think of him, or pause at his special resting place here on the farm. His death has a left a void to this day that is hard to explain.

And from there the melancholic mix of emotions kept building as I looked out in the pasture and saw the animals that have come to us from situations ranging from sad, to horrific. It built more as I saw the shadows of those who unfortunately have died in our care as we tried to bring them back from illnesses suffered at the hands of others.

My mind kept wandering in the wee hours of the night and I found myself sitting at the computer and looking at the photos of the llamas who have come through our lives. In one way or another there have been more than 200 that have crossed our paths, through situations ranging from the simplest things like owners needing help with shearing or toe trimming or handling, to the worst of the worst involving starvation, cruelty and neglect.

And then I found an article I wrote back in November 2002 for some of the llama magazines and llama associations. I started reading it, and remembering all that made my life with llamas rewarding and filled with sorry all in the same breath. And so below is the article written in what seems to be oh so very long ago:

I was recently approached by a national llama magazine to write an article about 13 llamas removed from a custom slaughterhouse in Sumner WA. I spent quite some time trying to think of a way to make this a story that would twist the soul, and bring tears to the eyes of every reader. I thought about preaching about why llamas should not be part of the meat industry in this country. I thought about talking about which rescue group is best, which one does the most good, which one is right in their approach. I thought about hyping my participation with Llama Rescue Net, or the work done by Southeast Llama Rescue, or Central Oregon Llama Association, or the Montana Sanctuary, or the WVLF or Stillpointe Sanctuary here in Washington State, just to mention a very, very few.

I decided instead to tell you a tale about a little boy.

He grew up on a dairy farm, complete with cows, and pigs and chickens and mules for plowing and an outhouse and a wood cook stove, all run by his grandfather. The animals were respected for the role they played in sustaining our existence. We were responsible for the dignity of their lives and as children we too were required to recognize and accept that responsibility. We were taught at a very early age, that deserved or not, humanity had achieved the role of stewardship of this planet, and with that came black and white rules of behavior.

Animals that were too sick were humanely destroyed, and their passing was always treated quietly and with the understanding that all creatures great and small come and go and we must accept this a part of our commitment to them.

Abused or mistreated animals at other farms nearby were taken from their owners, sometimes at gunpoint, by consensus of the community. It wasn't a simpler world, just one where people still understood that all life, human or animal, had value. These animals were added to the herds at local farms.

Time marched on. The outhouse gave way to indoor plumbing; the wood cook stove was replaced with an electric range. The mules were replaced with a tractor, and lived the rest of their lives with us as honored parts of the family. The boy grew up and moved away, and the farm was eventually sold.

But the tale continued.

As time went on, I remembered the days on my grandfather's farm and waited to return in some small way to that time as a boy. We have owned llamas for just less than 3 years now, making us new to the world of llamas. We originally intended on purchasing sheep for use by my wife and daughter in the spinning and weaving crafts and offsetting some of the expenses by selling the excess wool. We encountered a llama owner, and her llamas and of course the rest is history. Anyone coming in contact with the royal grace and dignity these animals are capable of can't help but find the experience overwhelming.

We purchased 3 llamas with grand temperaments, and wonderful fiber and our world has forever been changed. We acquired a female of the old classic line as an additional companion for our lone female. A local llama owner, getting up in years wanted to make certain that her llamas had caring and loving homes. She met with us many times, came out to visit our facilities at least twice before she allowed us to have her animal. She still comes and visits regularly, and has become an integral part of our extended family. Her commitment to her llamas reminded me strongly of the days I had spent on the farm with my grandfather.

And all was well with the world.

There was an ad in the paper for two llamas, must sell, $250.00 for the pair, and our world changed again. This time the grace and dignity was gone, and the underbelly that is part of EVERY animal industry showed itself not much more than a stone's throw from our quiet little corner.

Two llamas, male and female in enclosures not more than 20 x 30 feet each, both with halters and leads dragging, pastern deep in their own excrement, tucked away in a corner of a small farm operation supposedly to be 'guard llamas'. The fencing was hog panels, barbed wire, and pallets, filled with chunks of metal sticking up out of the ground. We bought the llamas. Oreo [named by our daughter] was supposedly pregnant, the male was intact, the man who ran the farm was old and senile and couldn't even remember where or when he first got them, but it "wasn't all that long ago, cause the grass was still green, and these animals aren't worth a hoot as guard animals, the coyotes are still getting my chickens!" These animals were so parasite infested you could literally see the worms in their feces. The male had halter sores and toes so long and soft that they flopped when he walked and his pads were rotting. Within two days the female went down in the middle of her quarantine area. After four weeks of continual care, including numerous vet visits and hospital stays we were able to get the female stabilized and eating. It's been 9 months now, no cria, and in her world humans are to be avoided at all costs. Buttons, the male has become a great companion animal for the rest of the male herd and for me.

Then another ad appears. This time, a single llama "found" in Idaho, brought over to Western Washington on a lark "cause everyone knows you can sell llamas for big bucks over there". Pheasant breeding pen of chicken wire with cement floor for shelter, adequate pasture, no water, no minerals, and "oh by the way she is a little wild ever since we lassoed and hog tied her to get the porcupine quills out of her hind quarters last winter". Dahli lives a quiet life with us now as we try to teach her still that people don't need to be feared. It's been 6 months.

Then came Henry. Henry was up for auction in Woodland Washington, as "the perfect slaughter animal, that will be made freezer ready for a minimal additional charge". He was bought for $25.00 by a 16-year-old boy living in downtown Portland Oregon and taken home. The boy explained to his father he couldn't stand the thought of so graceful an animal being ground into hamburger. A week later, a call went out via emails. Henry has had an abscess on the inside of his leg, and what should be done to clean it up. It has maggots crawling inside the wound, and the backyard is too small to keep the animal. Over $400.00 was donated by dozens of people across the US for his care. Henry was transported to us. The wound was the size of a cantaloupe on his inside thigh, maggot ridden, and a solid hard mass. He was immediately taken to our vet, X-rays were taken and surgery to clean the wound was scheduled. Further examination of the X-rays and consultations with Oregon State and Western State Universities, showed the infection had eaten away at the tendons and ligaments of his leg, and was eating into the bone. Henry would never be able to use that leg, and would need to spend the remainder of his life on penicillin and other antibiotics to keep the systemic infection under control. Henry was euthanized and our world became sadder for his passing.

The more we did, the more we looked, the worse things seemed to be. Beneath the quiet wonderful world of llamas was this other horribly ugly world full of discarded, unwanted, neglected, forgotten llamas spun from a world of greed, or ignorance, or both. Sometimes it was breeders dumping on unsuspecting customers who saw them only as cute and loveable, but forgot to mention the cute little 1 year old turns into a full blown adult with different temperament and needs, and would live for 20 or more years. Then the backyard pets have babies, because 'babies are cute'. And two begets 3, which begets 5, which begets 10. Sometimes the animals in need were the result of true human tragedy. The single man killed in a car crash, the wife who died of cancer, or the 4H child struck with paralytic meningitis.

I encountered groups who struggle quietly and desperately to clean up the mess. There are formal organizations scattered across the United States dedicated each in their own way, each with their own philosophies focusing on trying to salvage the forgotten, or educate the public about the realities of llamas. These volunteers operate on shoestring budgets, minimal donations of funds and supplies, and struggle to clean up the messes left behind by others. Many times the mess is the poor forgotten couple who bought some llamas sometimes from a "well known breeder" sometimes just from 'Johnny across town" as pets and now don't know what to do. And many times, its 13 llamas or 6 llamas or 18 llamas or more than 40 llamas that have been forgotten by the world and just dumped, or walked away from.

There are also the little quiet people who just struggle in their own neighborhoods to do right, stumbling along on their own and trying to learn as they go.

There's Tracey and John, llama owners who drove by a slaughter house and found 6, no 10, oops 13 llamas in the lot waiting to be purchased and slaughtered, and shelled out their personal funds to buy them and are now desperately working to find adoptive homes for these dumped animals. Some have been handled in the past, all are just "plain John llamas", and some have obviously been treated like the ' old junkyard dog'.

There's Tom who got a male and female pair of llamas from some folks who had llamas they allowed all the neighbor kids to chase and try to ride until they got bucked off, who doesn't know what to do with the intact male constantly attacking him when he approaches the pregnant female.

There's Reza, who sort of inherited a group of llamas, and emus and pigeons and chickens, and goats and ducks and geese and doesn't know what to do, reaching out for help trying to find good homes.

Like all animal related businesses, the world of llamas has show gatherings full of pomp and circumstance designed to spotlight the best the world of llamas has created. BUT, with creation comes a moral imperative and responsibility to remember that someday the mules will get too old to pull a plow, and something better will come along. The parts of our past that got us where we are still need to be cared for, not merely hidden off in a corner or discarded for the sake of convenience. There's a responsibility to ensure the animal you chose to create finds a place in this world that provides the dignity and respect it deserves. There's a responsibility to make certain the animal has been properly trained. There's a responsibility to make certain the people who are buying your animal have also been properly trained and that they have the resources and continual access to mentoring as needed. But that's a different tale for others to tell.

There will always be rescues regardless of the animal, regardless of the laws, regardless of all the hand wringing at llama gatherings. There will always be a Henry somewhere, maggoty and dying, and taken to auction only because he was in a herd of males and got attacked and why bother after all there's more where he came from.

Do something, anything.

Find a spot for one more llama on your farm, not one that adds value, or can be used to improve you herd, or your point standings, just one more "plain Jane llama". Believe me, it feels great to be able to say 'today I made a difference'.

Take the coin jar and send it to an organization of your choice. Find the old halters and leads and mail them off.

Shout FOUL about the folks who are adding to the problem. Don't whisper it in the motel rooms after the llama shows have ended; don't whimper it on the chat rooms and email lists.

SHOUT it out to the public who are not part of the world of llamas.

Make the public aware of the joy and majesty every llama has within it.

Make every prospective buyer aware of the moral imperative that is required when choosing to own another living being.

Be there ALWAYS for your customers.

Make the public aware of the 'bad apples' breeding with no purpose other than to fund more breeding. Point fingers, name names.

TAKE BACK THE LLAMA WHO HASN'T FIT IN ITS NEW HOME!!!


To the multitudes of llama owners who have always recognized the need to be responsible for your actions and have acted in the best interest of animal and business and see no conflicts between the two - I want to thank you personally and think your actions should be shouted loud and proud by the entire llama community.

To the special people who have helped my family and me with our llamas, and have shown us their power and spirit, thank you.

To all the special people who quietly or not so quietly fight daily to clean up the messes others have made, thank you.

To those of you who have gotten half way through this article and decided I'm just another crackpot… I wish you had known my grandfather.

And that's the tale I chose to tell.

And so in rememberance and dedication to the people and the animals whose lives will be forever entwined with ours, no matter where the future leads:


Gary and Chloe and the Llama Loves of our Lives
www.roadsendllamas.com
Olympia WA

Llamas and Hummingbirds and SNOW Oh My

Well....
Here it is April 19 and the SNOW has been falling since 4am. This is disturbing on all sorts of levels.
First of course this is Olympia Washington where we can often go ENTIRE winters without it ever getting to freezing much less snow, but boy NOT THIS YEAR.
We had the flood of all floods here in Western Washington in December, snow pack levels in the mountains that has been unheard of for decades, cold weather down in the low-lands for weeks on end, and just a mess all the way around.
And this latest snow is the most disturbing of all.
Yeah it throws us off our paces a bit, but even more this weather is starting to bump right up into baby birthing and all the worries that brings.
The first of our babies is due in 3 weeks and the weather just keeps getting more and more unpredictable. LAST SATURDAY it was 83 degrees, last SUNDAY it was 45 degrees, and now its snowing.

They say GLOBAL WARMING is all a part of this and well the reality is not much we can do but hope they are wrong. The tiny things we do in our daily lives to mitigate this whole warming stuff is miniscule, but necessary. Now if there was just a way to convince everyone to try and make the "Big Boys" in the world to understand just how fragile things have become, we might have a fighting chance at planetary survival.

But life marches on [well Aprils on] and we will do what we do.... survive.

Llamas and Coffee Coffee everywhere but apparently not a drop worth drinking

Starbucks, one of the great landmarks of Seattle history in the making has been working on 're-inventing' itself.
I'm just a plain coffee addict, as long as it has caffeine and is somewhat simple, I'll drink it. I'm not a great fu-fu coffee drinker, but when I'm out in the pastures, you can be SURE I will be getting odd looks from the llamas when I'm not walking around with a coffee cup in my hand.
In fact, you could almost have the equivalent of an easter egg hunt wandering around the property hunting for coffee cups left hanging around on a fence post or two, or three or ten!

My daughter even works part time as a Starbucks barrista while she is attending college, so no offense to her intended but if this 'less than favorable review' is even close to accurate, I think I'll just stick with my gut rot folgers thank you very much.

Llamas and Spring and Spring Cria Worries

Spring is trying to join us here in the Pacific Northwest. Our annual hummingbird migration has started and even though its early we have around a dozen visiting so far, the pears trees are trying despite the radical weather to bloom, the cherry and apple trees are trying, and my thoughts are turning towards the baby cria we are expecting this year.

The first of our girls due this year is our sweet and beloved Luvy. She has gotten big with still a month left to go and I always worry, no matter who the llama is about all the things that can go bump in the night. Will we be home when she goes into labor, will the baby deliver normally, will it be healthy, will it latch on start nursing? These are tough animals with millenia of giving birth under their belts without our help, but still all the thoughts go racing through your head. Her first baby, Katee went flawlessly. In fact so fast that between the time I got the call to come home and the time I actually got home, she was out, and up and blowing and going.

Then we have the newest member of our herd Chilean Countess [TESS] who came to us last summer with baby on side and bred for a summer baby. We don't know much about her birthing ease, but were told by her prior owner that there were no problems.

And then there is the first female we ever owned, Cayan. This will be Cayan's fourth baby and they have all been amazing and wonderfully cherished cria. She has never had any problems with delivery and we don't expect in reality that there will be a problem now, but reality and the all the kinds of things that go through your head are very, very different creatures.

We bred two other girls and all indications that they did not take, which in all honesty is probably a good thing. 5 babies in one year is just too many. And while I would have LOVED to have seen the babies these two girls would have produced out of the boys we chose, it will be easier to wait for next year and consider trying again.

And so as I watch the weather go from sun to rain, to hail, to sun and back again I stare wistfully at our three girls, wishing somehow the clock would tick faster and they would all be done.

Dawn is rising in Ohio

Nothing fancy this morning since I plan on sitting down and doing our federal income taxes for the year.

A bit of a delay from prior years, since I usually jump all over it and am long done sometime in February.

Just been putting it off this year.

BUT if you want to take a peek at a fun blog I just found, check out
Dawn Lusk in Ohio, http://dawnanewday.blogspot.com/

Story of the day is ALL ABOUT KARMA [and a little about llamas]

The story actually starts yesterday. That was our tenth anniversary and, not only has Chloe successfully survived ten years of marriage to me, but SHE treated me to a dinner at Outback!! Yes thank you all in advance, but the only person who always knows what anniversary it is, is Morgan. One of us has to ask her or dig out the marriage certificate. Neither of us have figured out if this is a good thing or bad thing, so we just take it as it is.

What makes the story go back to yesterday though, is a history in our lives of things going bump in the night almost without fail on our wedding anniversary. Phone calls with crisis llamas, our llamas rushed to the vet, dogs eating anniversary cakes and having to be ‘treated’ to hydrogen peroxide, windstorms killing the power. Just about anything that might happen almost always happens on our anniversary, so quite literally we have rarely if ever made plans. But this year was different and NOTHING HAPPENED. So I get shoved in the car and off we go to outback.

Apparently however the world of Karma understands the concept of leap years and figured this year it would consider the fact that we were married on the second to the last day in most February’s required some adjustment and so…..

The story.

This month has been exceptionally mild weather around here [sorry folks]. Most days have been well into the 50’s and although we have had some cool nights, winter really has appeared to have vanished [he said rapidly knocking all the wood he can find]. The llamas have almost even stopped pooping the shelters as much as they did all winter. So this morning I decided to hook up the poop vac and start on some piles that I just been shoveling. That lasted about 10 minutes before the impeller blades chose to tell me that it really was still WAY TOO EARLY in the year for them to cooperate and completely plugged the out port with gunk. Fine I put it away and decided to work on the shelters and removed some of the deep bedding that I intentionally leave in there to accommodate the colder nights and make our crankier girls and older boys all warm and toasty. Drove the tractor in and scraped up the first load, parked it shoveled and forked a whole bunch more on top of the bucket load just like I always do and back out. Its not the biggest tractor in the world, a mid size Kubota 4wd 32hp. The lift capacity on the front end loader is supposedly rated at 1500 lbs, and I have calcium filled rear tires PLUS a 1000 lb counter weight on the 3pt hitch so this thing acts like a bulldozer when we put it down into low gear and I get to doing stuff. And who pays attention to maximum ratings anyway, we all know they are deliberately understated!!!

The route I take to get out of the girls pasture with loads for the compost pile entails going down a slight grade then back up to the main gate and out. So the options are back down the initial grade and the other side, or drive forwards down the first slope and up the second. I have never bothered to think either way about it since they are both no win situations IF you are worried about loads tipping and stuff like that. One way or the other part of the trip involves the load being pointed downhill. And of course I am superman on the tractor and she, the tractor is a she by the way, is super tractor; as a team there is nothing we can’t do.

Here’s where Karma found great pleasure today.

I decided since the load really was substantial I would back down and back up to get to the gate. What the heck it really didn’t matter, and when all is said and done it is easier to back out of the shelter and out than it is to turn around. Besides me and my tractor are an unstoppable pair. Always have been, no reason to think otherwise. OK everyone who sees where this going raise your right hand!

We get down the hill no sweat of course and start up the other side backwards; there really is no choice in that situation. And its not REALLY that big a slope, only about 20 feet long.
Next thing I know I’m laying across the engine compartment cover, the rear wheels are completely off the ground and spinning, the bucket is flat on the ground, and the front wheels, courtesy of 4wd, are attempting to dig their way to China! Yes people I know that’s what seat belts are for, but who REALLY puts their seatbelt on when driving their tractor. What is some cop going to scream into my driveway and write me a ticket?

The only thing actually keeping me on the tractor at all is the fact that my left foot is apparently stuck in the steering wheel. Not hurt just sort of stuck. All this takes a grand total of maybe 30 seconds for me to get into perspective, but that was one LONG 30 seconds thank you very much.

I gather up my wits [such as they halfway were when I started this whole arrogant attitude project], get myself to where I can shut down the tractor, but I’m still sort of not really standing, or sitting, just now I’m sideways and can reach the ignition and fuel shut down.

I declare an official coffee break and just head into house pretending somehow the tractor in all her glorious wisdom will fix itself and I can just drive out. I even sat on the front porch steps overlooking the entire situation waiting for her to come up with the solution. The second cup was finished and she still hadn’t fixed it.

So, I saunter into the pasture and shoo all the girls, who had also gathered up front and personal around the tractor waiting for her to get right, away from the tractor. I climbed on, got her fired up and figured what the heck I’ll just drive forward climb out of the hole from the front tires pushing the load in front of me and all will be well and good. After all, I already knew we couldn’t back out. WRONG, that didn’t work. Now we are buried to the front axle! So what’s a guy to do but go get a shovel and shovel out all that poop and bedding from the bucket. After all, with the counter weight, AND my magic calcium filled rear tires there is more than enough weight on the back end that the tractor will hit the tip point and just bounce back onto all fours. WRONG AGAIN. So now I have who knows how many pounds of poop and bedding sitting front of the bucket, granted off a ways, but there it still sits, rear wheels off the ground. And no, I had already thought through the stupidity of taking the truck and trying to pull the tractor out. Sure I’ll get in trouble if chloe gets home and the tractor is stuck in the pasture, but I’ll never hear the end of it if she comes home and finds the truck AND tractor both stuck. Been there, done that, and really don’t need a second reminder from what is quite obvious to everyone who knows us, the smarter one in the pair.

So what the heck, lets jump up and down on the counter weight, that should work. HA! Those of you who have met me know that I am all of 170 lbs IF I wear all my winter clothes and stand in the shower fully dressed for half an hour.

By this time all the girls are back again and gathered around watching with thorough amusement. Isabeau has her head stuck under the counter weight sniffing the bottom of it, Katee is licking one of the rear tires and Bella is gumming the steering wheel. The rest of them are just standing around looking at the fine mess I’ve gotten myself into. The only single comfort to all this is that despite what I knew was their personal amusement at my expense they had no way to tell Chloe the story.

Ok this is getting long and boring enough.

Suffice it to say, two 2 ton hydraulic jacks, 3 axle jacks, a sheet of plywood, AND more shoveling than I wanted to do in the first place later, me, my tractor, the two holes from the wheels AND the entire poop and bedding pile are out of the pasture and unless one of you squeals to Chloe, the only other way for her to find out is if one of my girls learns to talk, cause lord knows I ain’t gonna tell her!!!

Karma, it really is all about Karma. And Karma has a nasty sense of humor

Gary and Chloe [who hasn't a clue yet!]
www.roadsendllamas.com







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WHEN THE MOON HITS YOUR EYE

Last night of course was a total lunar eclipse and we were looking forward to the possibility of seeing it happen. We were not disappointed at all. Moon not quite full, not a cloud in the sky, stars out everywhere and well we live a bit off the beaten track so city lights don't interfere with our star gazing hardly at all. The motion sensor lights are a bit of PITA, but I just throw the switch and walk around in the dark.

There is a drawback however to moonlit nights. At least from now on apparently.

So I wander out into the back pastures with the boys, Chloe in tow. I have pretty good night vision and the moon had risen enough that my eyes worked just fine, especially since I knew where I was going. Chloe on the other hand isn't quite as adaptable to the dark, so halfway out there I'm already in trouble. Oh well, stuff happens. And of course I'm way too stubborn to go back to the house and get a flashlight. The boys are all spread out and probably annoyed that we are out there during their 'quiet time', but again, oh well they'll get over it. A couple are hanging out in the shelter, but most of them are soaking up the whole weather reprieve and are choosing to sleep out in the open.

It was a glorious thing to watch. The moon just kept getting more and more copper colored, and stars [well I guess planets] just kept popping out around the moon, just to say 'HI, SURPRISE'. It really was cool the way they just showed up. Yeah, I know they were and have always been there, but....

Some of you have heard me share a bit about our three LGD's. We've got Yogi, and Gracie and LUNA. All three are a never ending adventure and so far have been more fun than not. They are just an amazing part of our lives. Luna is the youngest, but contributes to our lives in her own special ways.

So, we are out in the pasture, sitting on the cable spools that are out there for Yogi who loves playing "up" with me, and uses them regularly as HIS guard points. Gracie is too old and really small so she never even tries jumping up on them, and Luna just hasn't figure out how Yogi gets all four legs off the ground at the same time, so she bounces up and down with her feet on the spool. Like watching a kangaroo trying to learn how to jump. She gets laughed at a lot. Yogi decides he wants up onto his spool, and since I'm already on it doesn't quite have enough room to fit, and doesn't quite make it, so I have to 'make room for him'. Fine.

Ok back to the eclipse, sorry about that. The moon is now ALL copper colored and I'm just mesmerized. Simple pleasures for simple people.

Out of nowhere Luna starts growling, way way way deep down hard solid and frankly quite frightening growl. I have heard her growl warnings before, but this was very different. Of course paranoid human that I am all sorts of things start rolling through my head and here I am sans flashlight. Yeah my vision is good, but not that good. Yogi and Gracie however are calm, quiet and just with us, grateful no doubt for the temporary relief from their nighttime duties. If we are out there, they figure they are off duty, sort of. Luna's growl keeps increasing and then she runs off up to the high spot of the pasture and is just coming totally unglued [she is really good at that]. Ok now paranoia becomes reality even though yogi and gracie are still just hanging with us.
I make Chloe go into the shelter [have no clue why though], and RUN back to the house to grab one of our super mondo spotlights and a weapon.

I may not be ancient yet, but am far from a spring chicken, and running is something I have given up on a long time ago. Anyway I FINALLY get back to the pasture and by this time, Yogi has joined Luna, but is not barking at all. Gracie just followed Chloe and was settled in the shelter which confuses me even more. She is usually spot on when it comes to threats, despite her age and diminutive size.

I throw the spot light on and see the two dogs, and there is Luna, head straight up in the air off towards the moon, jumping, barking, and snapping AT THE MOON! Apparently SHE decided that this giant copper penny in the sky was the absolute total enemy of the planet. Damndest thing I've seen yet, and unfortunately couldn't get her to accept it to save our lives. I did get her off her guard spot to come join us while we watched the eclipse fade away, was able to get her to quit barking, but she sat there for almost an hour, growling at her new found enemy!!

We have decided on two things about Luna; Wendy named her with some sense of cosmic humor in mind, and now instead of calling her Luna tunes, we are now going to call her Luna tic.

She has also apparently decided at least for now, that the moon is going to be her permanent enemy. Once we decided to leave the pasture for the night, she started up her personal offensive ALL NIGHT LONG! Not the usual I'm patrolling and occasionally barking to the world I'm here stay away all you bad guys that go bump in the night, but a continual solid constant and ever so annoying barking from the time we left the pasture, until quite literally the sun rose this morning. Frankly, you can only go outside and 'say good girl be quiet' so many times before you just flat give up. And I was hoping that eventually one of the llamas would go up to her and smack her upside the head and ask 'are you stupid!'. But they didn't, and a quiet night was had by none. Chloe was not impressed this morning at all!

Gary Kaufman,Olympia WA
www.roadsendllamas.com
Copyright 2008 Gary Kaufman, Roads End Llamas Olympia WA. Permission is granted for nonprofit educational duplication and distribution. This permission is in addition to rights granted under Sections 107, 108 and other provisions of the U.S. Copyright Act.

Runaway Llamas or How My Llamas Changed the Face of My Day

So I’m outside yesterday firing up the tractor to load some firewood and take care of a few odds and end chores, and Luna our Anatolian Shepherd is absolutely coming unglued at some ‘mystery’ way down the road that I can’t see or even hear. And by unglued, she is full focused and ridge backed, not a bark, growl, snarl or sound, just dead stare that tells you there is what SHE thinks is serious danger approaching or close enough for her to pay 100% attention to.
I look over at Legend [a temporary visiting male llama] who is turned out in the upper browsing pasture, and he is eyeball glued and squealing that ‘hello come back here please’ squeal that llamas make when one or more is taken out of pastures. But he is just a visitor so sometimes he does that when he sees deer, ducks, or our chicken.
So just to be casual I saunter down the driveway towards the road to check things out. And I look over to my right into the girl’s pastures….AND THEY ARE MISSING!
ALL 16 of them are nowhere to be found. I trot down to the pasture section where I had seen them browsing last, the outside gate was off its hinges, and a wonderful trail of tracks led out into the timber. Thank you Dahli [our no such thing as a gate I can’t open if I want to llama]. Chains, padlocks, Kiwi latches all mean nothing, she just literally will worry a gate off its hinges and shove it out of the way, whenever the mood strikes her.
Now please keep in mind we live literally at the end of a dead end road that essentially boundaries one of the state forests. Yes, I panicked. Called Chloe at work and told her to come home NOW, called animal services to tell them what I might be up against and they notified the sheriff in case someone called in some wayward llamas.
Ran into the boys pasture and grabbed old Joe one of THE smartest and most willing to please llamas we own, and headed into the woods to follow the quite easily identified tracks. Only time all winter I thanked nature for all the rain and mud.
Followed it BACK up onto the road where the tracks showed the girls were apparently wandering down and away from the house. So… with Joe in tow I start hollering for the girls who are not to be seen anywhere.
After about 10 minutes Tess, her daughter Jasmine, Katee and her mother, Luvy, come wandering down the road towards me, take one look at Joe in tow and go from a simple saunter to a dead gallop!!! Of course, that meant 12 were still unaccounted for.
So I decide at least I have 4, let’s get them back, and turn around and start heading back onto the property with the foolish thought that those four will just follow me and Joe into their pasture. I’m almost 1/3 mile down the road so it’s not exactly a fast walk, especially since the four girls seem to think its still time to picnic and are munching as they walk. But at least they are coming. And I keep calling for the rest of the girls, just in case. I get about 100 yards from our driveway entrance and quite literally I hear hooves behind me. And here comes ALL 12 of the rest of them, hell bent for leather my way. Chloe wasn’t home yet and it dawned on me that it was now 16 against 2, and the odds were not that good that all [if any] of them would come into their pastures. The boys by this time had gotten sight of all those LOOSE females, and started up a major ruckus, which of course got the girls attention.
And sure enough, all 16 of them make a beeline for the BOYS. So now I have the entire herd trying to get at each other jumping up on the fences with three LGD’s doing their best not to get trampled in the melee.
I’m running around opening short pasture exterior gates entrances [where the boys are already shut out of] in the hopes that the girls will head into the boys pastures if nothing else. No such luck of course. I also throw open the turnout pasture with Legend in it, just in case and have him shut into the orchard section of that pasture.
Joe in the meantime is quick tied in the girls pasture to the inside of the fence line in case some or any of the girls see him and want to investigate and because it was on the way to where the girls had wandered.
I grab a big bucket of grain and figure that maybe they will pay attention to food instead of all those boys. Four of my grain sluts [sorry ladies] took one look at the bucket and came right to me in the upper turnout pasture so I just dumped some grain on the ground and kept calling the girls. A couple of the pg females who were busy spitting at all the boys saw what was going on and decided food was better than throwing the cold shoulder and spit on the boys. Ok so now I have half the girls contained and half of them still ‘wandering loose’. I look over to orchard side of things and JOE is now standing along the fence line with Legend lead dragging the ground. More on that later.
So, I grab Joe, and quick tie him again right alongside Legend on the other side of the fence, he’s not helping things at all anymore, and go get Legend out of the orchard and put him up. Shoo the girls in there already into the orchard and shut them in leaving the main upper section still open. Eventually more of the girls attempting to get at the boys [and vice versa] decide quite literally on their own to join the rest of the girls, EXCEPT of course Cayan, her daughter Isabeau, Pixie [my not quite ABS female], and Bella. [Oh yea, about this time Chloe gets home with help in hand]
I go get Joe again, and wander him over to Cayan and Isabeau. Cayan is pg, and she starts spitting at Joe, and Isabeau is REAL interested in Joe. I get Isabeau on a quick loop lead, and start walking him and Isabeau back to the girls pasture. Well Joe figures out pretty quick that Isabeau is an open female, and starts orgling at her and Isabeau is old enough to figure that sound out. Fortunately, she doesn’t kush, and Cayan is just body slamming Joe [poor guy] left and right because he is messing with HER DAUGHTER. Now I’ve got Cayan and Isabeau back in their pastures, and loose tie Joe to a tree [for the third time] just in case I need him. He’s all hung mouth so ignores everything and starts nibbling on the cedar limbs.
Still have Pixie and Bella wandering around. By the time I get my little mess squared away Bella decides she REALLY wants in with the other girls and goes in. Pixie in the meantime is just grazing and making as big a point as she can NOT to get caught [no surprise]. And now I look at where I left Joe and he is wandering loose, dragging his lead rope AGAIN! I open the main drive gate to the girls pasture and he trots in to go visit Isabeau [I presume]. Pixie decides on her own thankfully to follow him!!!
Well, that’s an hour and half of round up and everyone is now accounted for but no one is where they belong. Grabbed all the halters and one by one the three of us got all the girls back where they belonged. No harm, no foul, as long as you don’t count an hour and half of heart rates [well mine at least] OFF THE CHARTS!!!
So the dust [well actually mud] all settles, the girls are safe and sound, the boys are exhausted from all the excitement and I decide to try and figure out just what is wrong with my quick tie that I have been using for years. I go get Joe and bring him out again, and just quick tie him to a corral panel, and I wait, and wait, and wait, and wait some more. And then Joe decides he has had enough of being tied, so he reaches out and grabs the loose end of the quick release loop and pulls on it, and the tie does exactly what it supposed to do, COMES UNDONE. Way too many lessons for one day thank you very much.
Darned good thing I was off work today, but frankly, work is much easier than being home turned out to be.
Gary, Roads End Llamas, Olympia WA




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