What About Thelma?

We all miss Louise. Her personality was so huge it filled up the barn, without her it seems empty. Nobody misses her more than Thelma, though. Camelids are herd animals, so their instinct is to stay with the herd. Some llamas can live alone as guard animals and get along just fine. Thelma is not one of those llamas. She is a follower, not a leader. She’s not at all independent.



Popcorn is doing her best to try to keep Thelma company, but it’s not working.



Thelma continues to stare off into the pasture where the alpacas are. She hums softly, expressing her stress at being left behind.  They see each other over a half-wall inside the barn, too, but it’s not the same as being with each other. We can’t let her join them because, of course, we don’t want babies (alpacas and llamas can breed and create a viable offspring, but that would be bad).



So we are working on getting Thelma a friend; possibly an old friend, one from the same ranch they were rescued from. As hard as it is for me to open my heart once again to a new animal, I can’t bear to watch Thelma be sad either.  The only other option would be to find Thelma a home somewhere else where there are llamas. Not exactly an easy thing to do.

The Camera Issue

Some of you will recall my old Nikon D70s decided to stop working just before the holidays. I had issues with it for years. I would be happily clicking along then it would just jam up for no reason. I would have to remove the CF card and replace it or turn the camera on and off to restart it. It was a known issue I could have had repaired, but that would mean I’d have to send it off and be without a camera for months, so I never bothered, I just muddled through. Right before Christmas though, it decided my tinkering was no longer sufficient and it just jammed up all together.



After hyperventilating during my panic, I placed an order for a reasonably-priced camera that I thought would be good enough for me. I don’t always use all the bells and whistles a dSLR affords anyway, so I figured I could make do. I was wrong. Trying to take pictures of moving livestock with a dSLR is hard, trying it with a point and shoot is nearly impossible. It seems once you use a nice dSLR regularly, you can never go back.
So I thought, “Hmm, maybe I should send my old D70s in to Nikon and have it fixed?” As I was preparing to send it in, I discovered it had miraculously healed itself and was back to its usual intermittent-only issues. I packaged up the new camera and sent it back so fast it would have made your head spin.



It wasn’t long though before I realized the D70s really was on its last leg, now the sensors seemed wonky, and it was only a matter of time before I was going to have to do something. I knew I wanted the D7000 but it was sold out EVERYWHERE. I hemmed and hawed and debated and maybe even moaned a little. Then the other night, sleep deprived and worried out of my mind about Louise, I found a refurbished model offered for sale through the local camera shop. Local as in Indianapolis, which really isn’t local at all, but closer than say, Dallas, if you know what I mean. I had done business with the company before and decided it would be safe to try it; I knew I wouldn’t have any problem returning it if I didn’t like it.



The only issue with this company is that they are located in downtown Indianapolis. Don’t get me wrong, downtown Indy has lots to offer, obviously, otherwise they wouldn’t be hosting the Superbowl.  I lived in the city for three years and can even navigate the streets pretty well. I just don’t like to. I feel like they leave about a half-inch of space between my car and the next guy’s and the Roberts Camera parking lot is even tighter. I can barely walk through a door frame without hitting one side or the other, let alone drive a car through it. I prefer the wide-open space out here in the middle of nowhere. So I ordered the sucker online, leaving the navigation issues to the UPS guy.  Then Louise took a turn for the worse and I completely forgot about it.



During one of my bathroom breaks, while I was nursing Louise, the phone rang. It was Nick from Roberts Camera. Apparently the bank thought it was a little strange that a woman who normally only shops at Tractor Supply and yarn shops would be buying, returning and buying again electronic equipment, and so declined the transaction thinking it was fraud. I apologized, sighed, and said, “I’m kind of in the middle of nursing a sick llama.”

Nick replied, “Yeah, I know I read that on the blog. How is she doing?”

I sat there stunned as a bat, not able to respond. Finally muttering, “Excuse me? You read my blog?”



He proceeded then to explain that they research all their internet orders to make sure someone isn’t ordering it fraudulently,  so they had Googled me to make sure I was a real person, when he stumbled across the blog. His wife liked llamas, so he’d stopped to read what was going on.

It was all rather surreal given my mental state at the time.

In the end, I explained what was happening and I have to say they were the nicest people, saving the highly-sought-after camera for me and telling me not to worry about it until things here were settled, whenever that might be.

Something tells me they wouldn’t have done that at Best Buy. 

On Friday, after not leaving the farm or even showering for days, the Engineer was anxious to get me out and about. He chauffeured me downtown to pick up the camera, and as you can see it is working properly. I’m still not a fan of driving around downtown, but I am a fan of Roberts Camera, so if you find yourself in need of a camera or accessories I would highly recommend you give them a call.
As for the D7000? I’m still learning it, but have to say I was quite smitten after just the first two photos. Lightning fast shutter speed and settings out the wazoove, erything I always wanted. I think we’ll develop a good working relationship. I should mention, all the photos on this blog are straight out of the camera, completely unedited. Not only do I not own a copy of Photoshop, I wouldn’t know how to use it even if I did.

The Big Goofy Galoot

It is difficult to describe how attached a person can get to a creature that doesn’t even crawl in your lap and purr; one that you cannot touch or caress or bond with in a physical way. Prior to the accident, I never even got to touch Louise outside of taking off her halter and giving her injections. She wasn’t a touchy-feely kind of girl. Yet, we had a very unique bond.

I’m an animal person. I’m not afraid to admit, I like most animals more than most people. I understand animals, always have, it seems to come naturally to me. I’ve never understood humans; that whole saying one thing but doing another. Animals don’t do that.  Temple Grandin in Animals in Translation talks about this connection to animals and it makes me wonder if I’m a little bit autistic. It would certainly explain some things.

I hadn’t been around camelids before, but I was able to make an emotional connection with Louise quickly. Not unlike the character in the movie, Louise had street smarts. She hadn’t led the perfect pampered life. She trusted no one. Louise was a tough girl with an attitude, who was fiercely loyal to the point she would start kicking ass and taking names if need be. Yet, she was a big old softie on the inside when she thought nobody was looking.

She changed while she was here. Not just physically, but emotionally.





She still didn’t really trust, but she was able to let her guard down every once in awhile and enjoy herself. That alone is the only thing keeping me from throwing in the towel and calling it quits right now.



All your kind words have touched my heart. I know you will miss her, too. One comment summed it up well, “life is so fragile.” We need to make the most of every day, don’t we?

Thank you all for being out there. It helps.

I Loved Her

But she’s gone. Louise died tonight after a hard-fought battle against pneumonia.

The Llama Drama

Sunday evening my son joined me to do the evening chores. He scooped the poop, while I doled out the food. The wind was still howling and the temperature had dropped to below-freezing levels, needless to say we were working quickly.

I had moved on from the barn to the chicken coop when the kid came running to tell me that Louise was foaming at the mouth. When I raced back, I found her choking on her food. She must have been trying to gobble it up too quickly. I tried to find the obstruction along her neck, with no luck. Llamas have long necks. 



The fact that Louise was allowing me to touch her at all scared the Hell out of me. I figured she must be desperate. She could barely breathe. An emergency call went out to the vet. She arrived quickly, although it sure didn’t seem like it.

We continued to try to massage her neck. Then the vet gave Louise a shot of Rompun, a sedative and muscle relaxant, then a shot of Banamine, a painkiller/anti-inflammatory. Louise was obviously breathing, because by now a half-hour had past, but she was choking and clearly distressed. The vet tried inserting a stomach tube to dislodge the obstruction, but it did not work, the obstruction was too far down the neck. Pulling a longer, sturdier tube from her car, the vet tried again. Still no luck. All this time it was about 2 degrees with 30 mile-an-hour wind, one-and-a-half hours into it the pain in our fingers and toes was so unbearable we had to go in. All we could do was hope the obstruction would pass on its own; surgery clearly wasn’t even an option. So we gave her a shot of a long-term antibiotic to prevent pneumonia if the food somehow had gotten into her lungs and the vet packed her things and went home.

I administered another shot of Rompun a few hours later hoping the muscle relaxant would help keep the muscles in her neck from contracting too much.  We continued to check on her and massage her neck. I tried to rest on the sofa, but never really got any sleep. I was so worried about Louise I made myself physically ill; I was convinced I would find her bloated and gone in the morning. Luckily she was still alive and I administered more Banamine and Rompun. More massage and by this point it seemed I could actually feel the lump in her throat so I focused on that area. This went on all day Monday. I was still terrified she wasn’t going to make it. Watching an animal in distress and not being able to do anything about it is the worst feeling in the world. Having it happen when it is 2 degrees outside made it a special kind of Hell. By evening though, it appeared she had stopped drooling and was starting to maybe swallow a little. Either that or she was completely dehydrated, I wasn’t sure. Another restless night went by.

This morning she was standing up when I first entered the barn, a good sign. I watched her for awhile and noticed she can certainly swallow some, although it is clearly uncomfortable. I was able to give her the Banamine shot but she pulled away from me when I started to massage her neck. This seemed like progress, considering on a normal day she doesn’t want me within 10 feet of her. She seemed tired though, and a little shaky. I opened the doors to let Thelma and the sheep out, hoping they would leave her so she could rest in peace. I went on to do the morning chicken chores and call the vet with an update. Once I was done, I returned to the barn only Lousie wasn’t there. She had decided to join the crowd in the pasture for some sun.



She has since moved again, back closer to the barn. I tried giving her a small amount of electrolytes through a syringe, she took about 45 cc altogether. She wants it, but it is clearly difficult yet to swallow. I’m hoping this means the obstruction has passed and now we are just dealing with the esophagus damage, but for the first time since Sunday night I’ve allowed myself to breathe out. I see a glimmer of hope that she might be able to pull through this. I think she would appreciate your kind thoughts though. I know I would.

Where the Wind Blows

Living on the wide-open prairie always makes life more interesting. Those news clips of weathermen in raincoats during a hurricane can’t hold a candle to everyday life out here. I feel like I need a tether to get to the barn and back. Even the sheep don’t want to go outside.



“Are you going to feed us or are you just going to stand around making clicking noises with that black thing?” asks Tula.

This century-old farmhouse wasn’t designed with aerodynamics in mind. A wind advisory here can be translated to non-stop whistling. During the past 48 hours of nature’s serenade, I’ve given it much thought and have determined it has something to do with the wrap-around porch. At least that is where it sounds like it is coming from. The same place it came from at the old farmhouse I lived in as a child. This explains a lot, really. I’ve always lamented  a homeowner’s decision to enclose their wrap-around porch, but now I realize they were most likely driven stark raving mad by the blasted whistling. They were trying to make the whistling go away. No different than lining the walls with tinfoil to block out the voices.

The Center of Attention

Just wanted you to know what it looked like, so you don’t confuse it with yourself or anyone else you might know.