Our client this week is a young female llama. Tired of living with the older residents in her current field, Ana is looking to strike out on her own, and perhaps find suitable accommodation with a group of young llamas who will be more interesting company for a girl approaching adulthood. Little does she realise how soon her wishes will come true . . . .
We had decided that Ana needed to be removed from Pedro’s harem, before she actually reached maturity. Having finished the construction of a new catch pen on the Rough Land, we knew that there was no good reason to delay – even though we were very uncertain of how Ana would react.
The potential problem was that, as far as we know, Ana had only ever had a lead on her once. This was when she first arrived at our land, and I led her from Mike’s horsebox. She had not reacted well to the experience, and she had danced around, jumping and pulling all the way.
In preparation for the impending move, Val had very successfully fitted her with an adapted halter and I have been working hard over the last couple of weeks to develop a close relationship with Ana, hoping that this would help her to accept the trauma I was about to inflict.
So, early this morning, after completing the normal feeding routine, we ushered all the other llamas out of the catch pen, and I casually slipped a lead on to Ana’s halter. No reaction from her. So far, so good.
The other llamas knew something was going on. They were just outside the catch pen, and tensions were clearly rising. Lots of clucking and some spitting. Time to get moving before the distress spread to Ana . . .
Unfortunately, Ana did not share this view. When a llama doesn’t want to move, they don’t dig their heels in . . . . . they use their long pointed toes. With all her weight leaning backwards, and four pairs of toes firmly planted in the ground, she clearly did not intend to leave the security of her home field!
Of course, I had to win, but I couldn’t drag her for any distance. She was resisting as hard as she could, and she was starting to get pretty stressed. Somehow I managed to get her a few feet down the steep slope out of the field gate. Time seemed to stand still, and I was able to concentrate wholly on this poor frightened, struggling creature. All of the stress I had felt in advance faded away, and I was suddenly much more confident. This seemed to communicate to Ana, and she gave way a little. We progressed down to the road in a stuttering series of stand offs – she resisted, and then she gave a little. As soon as she moved, I relaxed the pressure on the lead and praised her. As soon as she pulled back, I increased my pull.
Ana is a very clever llama and she was learning fast. Our stop-start progress continued down the short stretch of tarmac road till we could turn off down the side of a vineyard. Now we could all relax more – and Val was able to stop acting as traffic lookout and guard, and take some video.
As you can see, after her very hesitant start, Ana became increasingly more confident, until she actually wanted to take the lead as we eventually reached the Rough Land, where the other llamas were waiting, excited by her approach.
At this point, I had no idea whether she would settle down in the new field, but I was on a real high. Perhaps we really can do this llama rearing business. Yes, all I’ve done is move one untrained llama between two fields . . . . but it feels like a huge step forward.
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