Imagine my surprise this morning when I went to feed the animals and found a baby llama in the field. Not walking, just laying. Don was at church. I told the guests…as I needed to tell someone…and then called the vet. No Shirley McClain this time. I was calmer. The farm life has made me zen.
After talking with the vet, and texting Donnie to get home ASAP, I let things be for awhile. Soon, she was up on her feet. Nursing. We’d been told this was mother Daisy’s second pregnancy. Her first baby may be being raised by Rick and Steve, her gay llama uncle and his long-time partner. But, while sometimes absent minded, she is proving a competent mother. Let’s see how she does over night.
This really wasn’t, but it was, a surprise. We were told Daisy was pregnant. She was due in early April. But, as April passed, and then May, and now June, we were unsure of her with-child status. But here she is, baby Rose.
The other llamas really couldn’t care. And the ram? He smelled the Rose and then moved on to the hay. He doesn’t care. No one seems too. Just the way I like it. Even Onslow, the baby daddy, has been kind and sweet. No one on the other side of the fence seems to mind either. But they have their own drama. We got a pig this weekend. His name is Bacon. And, believe me, no one – and I mean NO ONE – was any too happy to see him. Alarm calls were sounded with a ferocity unseen since the London fire of of 1666.
Oh, and we also picked up 2 alpaca today. We agreed to take them before Rose arrived. Now it seems a bit much. But they were in a desperate state. Their owner was going to sell them for meat. And while I haven’t seen alpaca burgers on any restaurant menu lately, I’m sure Alpo would make use of them. And so we have them. Bacon wants to play with them. They just run away.
A busy weekend at Orchard House for sure. But fulfilling. And with our third room open, game room almost complete, and the tomato plants exceeding expectations, we are looking to the summer with hope and joy. Take a second, sit, and smell the Roses. There may be a hint of barnyard, but the promise of tomorrow will envelope your palate.