“Don't
plan anything for Saturday morning, I've got a surprise for you.”
The
rest of the week Merry taunted me, challenging me to guess. The only
clues she would give were that we were going to nearby Tully, NY, I
was to wear hiking clothes and my water shoes. I was totally
mystified.
So
on Saturday morning I put on my hiking clothes and got in the car.
After a stop for coffee we heading up into the hills west of Tully on
a back road. The mystery did not get any clearer until we finally
turned into a driveway marked Woodmansee
Llamas.
Now
I got it. About a month ago I did quite a bit of research on llamas
and other camilids for a short story I was writing. We even went to
the Burnet Park zoo to see their small herd of guanaco, the presumed
wild ancestor of the llama. Then last Tuesday we strolled through
the small animal barn at the NY State Fair and spent some time with
the llamas on display there. In retrospect I remember Merry
remarking that she wondered what it would be like to get to know
llamas a bit better.
John
and Dawn Bishop own Woodmansee Farms. The farm is situated on a very
steep hillside. It's mostly second-growth woods. They have three
small barns, one for storage, one for the “boys” and one for the
“girls.” As I approached the nearest split rail fence, about
half a dozen “girls” trotted over to check me out. Llamas are an
odd mixture of skitter and curiosity. Did I have food? No? Then
let's run away. But maybe he does have food. Let's check him out
again. And so on. A llama face tells you instantly it's a friendly
beast.
The
next barn houses the seven male trekking llamas. John was in with
the animals, getting them harnessed up. The halter is just a simple
set a straps around the nose and back of the head with a ring under
the chin where a lead rope can be clipped. As he worked he explained
how they had gotten interested in llamas. He brought out Zeus, their
largest male, about 400 pounds. John told us a good trekking llama
can easily carry a third of its weight. Llamas are human-scale. The
back of a llama comes about to the waist of an adult human. The long
neck means their head sits just about as far from the ground as mine
does. Llamas look out at the world from roughly the same vantage
point we humans have, but they have bigger eyes and ears.
When
we were all gathered, Dawn brought two animals out to fit them with
packs. The frame looks a bit like a small horse saddle. Once that
is cinched tightly, cloth saddlebags are hung from each side – in
this case carrying snacks. Dawn introduced me to Morrie, a white
llama with a brown back now covered by saddlebags. Merry got an
all-brown llama with the other packs. Once everyone had their own
llama, we were off.
Walking
with a llama is pretty easy and quite peaceful. They are generally
compliant. The biggest challenge is that they see the trail as a
llama salad bar. They eat a surprising variety of plants: raspberry
and blackberry leaves, almost all tree leaves, any grass, most ferns,
and most flowers (wisely avoiding joe-pye weed and goldenrod). A
gentle tug was all it took to get them to move on. They walk
steadily and carefully. Their feet have soft pads on the bottom with
two sharp toenails that serve as protection. They barely leave
tracks, even in wet ground. I was surprised to find out that they
don't like to get their feet muddy.
After
walking down hill for about half a mile we came to the upper reaches
of Onondaga Creek. At the top of beautiful Bishop's Falls we stopped
for a snack: alfalfa for the llamas, apples, pastries and Gatorade
for the people. While we relaxed, we got to hear the llamas “hum,”
a fairly quiet noise. Dawn convinced Morrie to show us his teeth.
Llama have a triangular row of chisel-like lower teeth in the front
of their mouth but no upper teeth. They grasp and cut off plants
with their front teeth then slowly grind them between the plates of
their gums. We repacked the saddlebags, took a last look at the
falls, crossed the creek a couple of times, then slowly worked our
way back up the hill to the farm.
Outside
the barn we unloaded the packs, then turned the animals out to
pasture. They walked away and started grazing without looking back.
Just
before we left, Dawn wanted to show us how a llama will take grain
from your hand. She gave Merry and me each a handful of llama chow
and we headed to the fence. The females came over and inspected us.
The bravest one came up to my outstretched palm. Using her lips as a
soft spatula the grain quickly disappeared. Two other females came
up to Merry and before anyone could react, one snapped her head back
and tried to spit on her rival. Mer was in the line of fire and was
accidently hit on the arm. We watched from a safe distance as they
did it again, putting their heads back and wetly snorting.
All
in all it was a fun outing. Not what I'd exactly call a trek, but a
very pleasant walk in the woods with an interesting animal companion.
For more on the Woodmansee llamas, check out this article from Life
in the Finger Lakes, which is where Merry first discovered them.
