Fight For Your Dream (12 page)

Learning Curve

Perhaps it's similar to how you feel when you bring a child into this world. I certainly felt a massive responsibility towards Marty and Georgie. They needed me and I definitely needed them. I needed them for my sanity and well-being.

Over the weeks and months that followed, an incredible bond between two animals and a human was forged. Throughout my chemo and radiotherapy they were always there for me, it was as though they knew I needed them. After each treatment they would be stood next to the gate at the top of our paddock to greet me when I stepped out of the car. They would strain their necks, humming, waiting for me to wander over to them both for a stroke and cuddle. I would say out loud, ‘good boys, guys, waiting for mum again,' as I nuzzled my head between them, putting an arm around their necks and pulling them towards me. Marty, being the cheeky one, would give a little snort and jump sideways when he got excited, which tended to be quite often. He craved love and affection, and I happily gave it in abundance. As I had expected, the treatment was quite unpleasant at times but nevertheless, no matter how bad I felt, I could always wander out into the paddock and, when I saw Marty and Georgie waiting for me, they always managed to make me smile.

The more time I spent with Marty and Georgie, the more I came besotted with them. They were rapidly getting under my skin, and I found I could while away hours just watching them. They fascinated me like no other animal had managed to do so in the past. I loved the way they interacted with each other. At sunset they would follow each other, dancing. ‘Pronking' is actually what their dancing is called, and it's so funny to watch. Their legs almost look like pogo sticks, and they spring on all four legs high in the air, land, and off they go again in a rhythmic-like fashion. In all the text books they say if alpacas and llamas are seen pronking, it's because they are happy and settled. On a regular basis Marty and Georgie would go through this little ritual, and I can't explain just how warm this made my heart feel. I could sense that maybe, just maybe, my time was coming, my time to be a more content and happy person; my time to find that true happiness which had eluded me throughout so many years of OCD.

During the autumn my chemo and radiotherapy was coming to an end, and I began to think how great it would be to add a couple of females to my little herd. I was surprised at how well Nigel accepted my cautious idea. Looking back, maybe he was expecting it! Two weeks later we were travelling down to Reading again to take a look at females. It was as easy as that. We'd decided that we would go back to the breeder who we had bought Georgie from. I got on with Joy (the breeder) and I was impressed with her stock and the way she dealt with them, so it made sense to pay her another visit. When we arrived, a pen of females had been rounded up for us to cast our eye over and, although I was very much still a novice where alpacas were concerned, I knew what I liked the look of. I was surprised to find out that the group of alpacas I had picked out as ‘favourites' were in fact the top quality that Joy had on the farm at that time. In layman's terms, top quality is defined by: fineness of fibre, density, crimp, lustre, handle and overall micron count. In general terms, the lower the micron count the higher quality the fibre usually is. There are many more requirements that quantify top quality, for instance conformation is extremely important. For breeding animals we look for straightness of legs, front and back, a nice compact body, a good head with neat spear-shaped ears, a good bite (if the lower or upper jaw is undershot or overshot, that is not a good bite) and a good tail set. The requirements list goes on.

My ultimate aim has always been to strive to improve the alpaca industry in the UK, and breed from only the finest animals I can. There is absolutely no point at all in breeding from inferior animals. It's not fair on the animals, and I firmly believe that it's just not the ethical thing to do. We need to have a very critical eye for the animals we choose to breed from. I strongly believe that, as breeders, we have a responsibility to the breed, and our decisions should always be based on this premise and not just on monetary gain.

Joy was very gracious with her comments on my choice of animals, and was complimentary in pointing out that I had ‘a good eye for an alpaca'.

After several long hours I had finally chosen my first two females, Sophia and Carla. In addition we had made the decision to purchase a young, but promising, ten month old male called Bomber, in the hope that 18 months on he would be working as a stud male servicing the two girls. With the benefit of hindsight, I wouldn't advise the extra outlay in cost today in buying a stud male. There are so many excellent studs in the UK today that you might as well take your pick, instead of burdening your small herd with just one stud of your own. You can very quickly find yourself in a mess with genetics. These days many breeders provide an on-site breeding service or what we call a ‘drive-by mating', where a stud is brought to your premises to do the deed, then immediately taken back home in the trailer.

We had driven down in Nigel's short wheelbase, silver Shogun, so we were not in a position to take the animals home that same day. We arranged with Joy that we would make the journey down again the following week, when we could collect all three alpacas together. Just one small problem. We didn't own a trailer!

The conversation on the way home was interesting, as I don't think Nigel had anticipated signing on the dotted line that day! Neither do I think he realised just how these three alpacas were about to change our lives for ever! This was just another chapter in our ever-changing life!

Then there were Five

The following week we made the same journey down to Oxfordshire, but this time we had a trailer in tow. We were fortunate that Brian and Mary, who lived in the farm next door, had very kindly said that we could borrow their trailer. It towed really smoothly on the back of the Shogun, and I was surprised when Nigel passed a comment saying, ‘Perhaps we might need to invest in one of these.'

I said nothing but thought, ‘Mmm, that sounds interesting.'

All three animals loaded well and, after saying our goodbyes, we were back on the motorway, destination Sheffield.

It was still daylight when we reached home, mums and dads where waiting for us to watch the unloading procedure, just as they had done several months earlier. It was just as exciting and didn't disappoint, only this time it was really amusing watching the eager faces of Marty and Georgie, stepping sideways, to get a better glimpse of what was about to come out of the large silver box which had been driven into their paddock; the large silver box more commonly known to us as a ‘stock trailer'. Their little faces were a joy to watch; hums of all different pitches were emanating from them.

It was just like watching excited children anticipating opening their presents on Christmas morning. We'd separated our paddock into two. Marty and Georgie were in the far one, so that we could drive straight into the paddock to unload the girls and Bomber. At ten months old, Bomber was not physically able to cover or hassle the girls so, for the first few days, I thought it best for him to run him with them. That way he could get associated with Marty and Georgie over the fence that separated them, rather than trying to integrate him straight away.

I was a little worried that my boys may try to bully him, seeing as he was a newcomer and younger but, to be honest, that concern was totally unfounded. When I finally did integrate him a few days later, he made friends with Georgie immediately and it was Marty who was the one that was a bit stand-offish.

As Nigel unlocked the back of the trailer, I glanced over to mums and dads who looked as excited as I did. They'd given me so much love and support throughout that I wanted to share this experience with them. Sophia was the first one to place a foot on the trailer ramp, closely followed by Carla, and even closer by Bomber. The boys on the other side of the fence could hardly contain their excitement. The smell of girls had obviously reached their nostrils, and they were keen to see more and investigate further. The girls wandered towards the boys in a nonchalant manner, casually teasing the two boys as they hesitated at the side of them. When females are open (not pregnant) they give off a scent to males, who instantly pick up the signal that they are ready to breed; therefore, as with all males (humans included), this heightens their excitement to the point where male alpacas produce a vocal noise called orgling (oh yes, this is fact). When a young male is ready to start working, which is usually around three years of age, we sometimes need the assistance of an experienced stud male to show the young male the art of seduction!

By running the youngster alongside the stud, he picks up the basics of sex education (‘This is how it's done, son!') He will learn his trade by watching and listening to the stud's vocal tones, which he in turn will then try to copy and perfect.

As with owning any animal, there is an enormous amount of fulfilment and enjoyment to be had, and I had been soaking up every bit of that. I had fallen head over heels in love with these animals and it was fantastic! That's why it hit me so hard. One spring day Nigel, me and both dads were busy in the paddock. It was one of those warm April days that gives you a taster of what's to come. The birds were singing, the air was warm and life was pretty good. Nigel's mum had just shouted, ‘Coffee in ten minutes,' out of the open kitchen window, when I was startled to hear my dad's voice shout, ‘Get off, ya daft bugger!'

Marty, my llama, was on his back legs with his front legs over dad's shoulders!

If I hadn't have been so worried it would have looked really comical.

‘Lol,' Nigel shouted, at the same time as I was running towards dad shouting, ‘Marty, Marty.'

Luckily dad was fine, albeit a little bit shaken. Marty was a huge llama, standing around 6ft on all fours, so he dwarfed dad when he was stood on his back legs.

I was alarmed, because this was so out of character. Marty had never shown any sort of aggression before and, in actual fact, we had created such a bond that he would allow me to rest my head on his back whilst laid on the grass. He would just sit in a cushed position (all four legs tucked under his body), very contented, and he seemed as relaxed with me as I was with him. ‘Surely this was not a show of aggression,' I thought, ‘but merely an act of over-exuberance on Marty's part.'

Nigel wasn't convinced, and we had many conversations as to why this could have happened. I tried to convince myself that this unfortunate display was just a one-off, just a hiccup, but I couldn't get a niggling doubt out of my head that I could well have caused this problem. As we loaded Marty into the trailer, Ordell's last words to me were, ‘Dear Elaine, enjoy him, have lots of fun with him, but remember he's a llama; treat him as one.' Twelve months later, little did I know that those words would come back to haunt me.

Painful Goodbyes

It was an awful few weeks. Marty's behaviour had worsened. In desperation I put a call through to Ordell for help. The conversation was pretty much as I expected it. We talked through the sequence of events that had taken place over the previous few weeks, the problems that come with being too hands-on with an animal that can imprint on a human. I'm talking about BMS (Berserk Male Syndrome), as it's more commonly known. BMS is a syndrome that can occur in young male llamas/alpacas when an over-indulgence of human handling has taken place with an animal in its infancy. Sometimes as alpaca/llama breeders we have no choice but to be hands-on with a young male animal for the animal's survival. For instance, if a dam (pregnant female alpaca) was to lose her life during parturition, then it would be necessary to step in to bottle-feed the cria; otherwise it would be certain death for the cria. Sometimes an orphan cria can be adopted by another female but, if not, then it is left to us as breeders to be that surrogate mother. Believe me, it's not easy; I've done it on several occasions, and it certainly comes with a great deal of heartache. Some I win, but some I lose. Call it luck or skill, but I've been fortunate to have more successes than failures. I must admit to getting an incredible feeling of satisfaction when I see a young cria, a few weeks on from fighting for its life, skipping around the paddock with its own kind. To know that I have played a major role in saving a cria's life gives me immense pleasure and pride.

The outcome of our discussions was that, in Ordell's opinion, the only option we had was to geld Marty as soon as possible, although it was still not a forgone conclusion that it would work. Marty was sixteen months old by now and his hormones had already started to kick in. It was possible that we were trying to lock the door after the horse had already bolted, so to speak. It was my last resort though, so I had to go with it. In the end I made the decision to have both Marty and Georgie gelded at the same time. Georgie never had been breeding quality so it made sense. When the day came it proved quite problematic. Marty, being a llama, was much heavier than Georgie and, although he was becoming increasingly difficult with other people, he was always calm around me. The problem we had was getting him sedated sufficiently to complete the mini op. Alpacas were still pretty rare in the UK, so most vets didn't have much experience in handling or treating them; so it was a little bit of a trial and error. Even now, sixteen years on, there are still no vaccines that are licensed for alpacas/llamas. Eventually, after increasing the dose of sedation, it started to take effect and I could feel his weight slowly sliding down my body, until he was laid partly on my lap and partly on the field shelter floor. He looked so content and sleepy as I stroked his face, his long eyelashes blinked as he stared at my face for reassurance. ‘Good boy, my beauty'.

I whispered, ‘Good boy, go sleeps, mummy's here.' As I gazed into his eyes, I couldn't help but feel so sad and guilty. I knew then that I'd caused this; it was of my doing and I felt so bad. Because of my vulnerability, state of mind, insecurities or whatever I'd been too needy of him. I still believe to this day that he connected with me in some unique way and he understood and recognised that I was in a bad place. I craved his love and affection and he gave it back so unreservedly. To be understood and wanted by an animal is one of the best feelings I have ever experienced in my life, and one that I continue to experience. I feel very privileged to be accepted into their world, and that's something I will never take for granted.

Four weeks on and there was still no improvement with Marty's behaviour. I didn't expect instant results, but I hoped that a change would be imminent. There was none. In fact, the situation worsened if anything. Up until now Marty had been tolerant of Nigel in the paddock when I was around, although Nigel never really pushed his luck too much when he was alone. Even this didn't last though. Marty had begun to see me as his property and it was his job, not only to protect me, but to own me.

Unfortunately, the day came when Marty played his joker card once too many times, even with Nigel. I was heartbroken. We were in the paddock. Nigel had merely put his arm around my shoulder, when he was taken off his feet and catapulted several feet across the paddock like a rag doll. I was horrified with what I had just witnessed. My Marty: why, why had he done that when all Nigel had ever shown him was kindness? The following week was a difficult one, as Nigel had put his foot down and said enough was enough.

Nigel put a call through to Ordell to discuss the dilemma we now found ourselves in. As a last resort, Ordell gave Nigel the contact details of a couple of people in Northampton who dealt with problem llamas. Mary and David Pryse ran a trekking centre with llamas, but they had been known to help people with difficult llamas, having numerous and successful outcomes. We had no other ideas, so Nigel put a call through to them and, after a little bit of persuasion, they reluctantly agreed to come up to meet Marty. Two days later, Mary and David arrived at Bassett. That same morning I'd sat on the grass beside Marty with my arm around him and talked to him as I so often did, only this time it was not a conversation that I ever thought would take place. He seemed to sense my uneasiness. Holding back the tears was impossible and, in fact, I let them flow freely. Some people might think I'm crazy but, to be honest, I'm not really bothered what they think, this animal understood me and I understood him; the bond between us was incredible and I needed to explain to him how I felt. I talked and he listened, apart from the occasional hum.

I was sobbing uncontrollably as the door on the trailer was closed with Marty inside. His head was still just visible and the oh-so-familiar hum ripped my heart apart. David and Mary had agreed to work with him for six months. Three months into the six was when the phone call came; Marty's aggression had worsened. David, although quite a burly chap, had been injured by Marty, and they had decided enough was enough. We were told that they were with him when he was put to sleep. He was calm and relaxed. I prayed his last thoughts of me were of all the incredible times we'd shared together in his oh-so-short life. I also prayed for his forgiveness.