Georgina M Byrne
One of the first things I read about, nearly ten years ago when we first acquired llamas, was the "Berserk Male Syndrome" in camelids. The subject was always raised when talking to experienced breeders overseas, since so little was known in Australia at the time. The stories we heard underlined the seriousness of the subject. For those who've experienced such behaviour, it's clearly very frightening and indeed, in some cases, life-threatening. Maggie Warner, in England, told us the story of her bottle-fed male guanaco, and that of an acquaintance's llama male, both of which had to be destroyed after repeated violent attacks upon their human companions. Tranquiliser guns had to be used on both animals, as they could no longer safely be approached by anyone. Fortunately, no lasting harm (to the humans) was done in either case. Perhaps because of these experiences, the British Camelid Association has, in its code of ethics, a recommendation that no bottle-fed male be left entire. Presumably this follows the assumption that every such animal will become dangerous on maturity (a bit like the folklore concerning Jersey bulls).
Our experience, however, has been quite to the contrary. In fact, several of our best-behaved studs and PR llamas have been either supplementary or fully bottle-fed.
There have been several articles in the US Llamas magazine, which emphasise the need to avoid over-handling male cria, and particularly, in bottle-feeding them. If supplementary feeding was necessary, the story went, every effort should be made to provide the cria with a "milkbar", rather than holding the bottle oneself. The consensus of the articles I read indicated that early gelding (at 3 or 4 months) was the only way to avoid the risk of bottle-fed males developing "Beserk Male Syndrome" as they matured. This, of course, is a bit of a Catch-22 situation, since such early gelding can pose serious long-term physical risks for llamas. Another problem with the above advice is the fact that cria, unless orphanned or removed entirely from the herd tend to be extremely fussy in their feeding habits. A common response, in my experience, has been "I'd rather die of starvation or choke to death than suck from that ghastly bottle". Such a response is particularly frustrating when accompanied by the disapproving stare (or in the early days, spit) of the mama llama.
What is camelid "Berserk Male Syndrome", anyhow? Essentially, it is an attitude, on the part of the llama/alpaca/guanaco/camel, that humans are their equals and therefore ,can be regarded as objects of lust, or as deadly rivals. Either of those two definitions is dangerous to humans. Whilst being mounted and sat on by a llama might not prove fatal, the same treatment meted out by a camel would likely kill you. Serious male/male fighting is scary stuff and even a determined alpaca male could inflict severe damage on a person.
Such behaviours in livestock are are not limited to camelids, of course. Stallions, bulls, billygoats and even rams are capable of deadly force if they deem themselves to be equal or superior in status to their human companions. The problem with llamas, and to a lesser extent, alpacas (given their smaller size) is that their "cuddliness" and usually gentle demeanour leads one to forget that they are larger, faster and stronger than humans, and if male and mature, are equipped with fearsome fighting teeth on the end of a long and extremely flexible neck. The real wonder is that so few camelids, indeed so few of our domestic animals deliberately hurt us, when so often, and even with the best of intentions, we hurt them.
Back to the subject of bottle-feeding, which in some cases is simply unavoidable, in order to ensure an adequate growth-rate or indeed the survival of a cria. My first experience of this was with our second cria, Balalaika. Born to an elderly Chilean female, in inauspicious circumstances (upside down in a trench, on a cold wet windy morning), and clad in a "silky" rather than a "woolly" fleece, she had serious problems right from the start. Later research revealed that her mother had lost her previous two cria very early on, and in both cases had had a very limited milk supply. The story of Laika's roller-coaster ride to eventual survival was featured in previous articles. Suffice it to say that the end result is a well-behaved, extremely benign animal with no sign of "beserkness", in spite of a lengthy spell as a "house-llama" a tremendous amnount of early interaction with humans and total bottle-feeding.
Laika's dam had five surviving cria. All had to be bottle-fed to ensure their survival. Like Laika, Nellie Melba was OK too (friendly and benign), but what about Gershwin? Snowy's second cria was a male, so some crucial decisions had to be made pretty early on, if he was to survive and remain intact. He did and he is. If anything, he lacks confidence around people. Nothing "beserker" about Gershwin. Wulfie (Beowulf) had to be reared away from his mother as she was at the new farm, whilst we were still living at the old. As a result, we were even harder on him than the others, bopping him on the nose whenever he attempted to invade our personal space.
Much of the credit for our success must go to Russell Gent, an ex high country cattle-man turned deer, alpaca and llama farmer we met in New Zealand nine years ago. The Gents had been given a pregnant female llama which had had a serious pelvic injury. Although she gave birth to a healthy male cria, the Gents felt that it would pose too much strain on her to rear the baby herself, so they supplemented his feed and weaned him very early. The cria "Diamond", became very attached to Russell and Russell was determined to avoid behaviour problems, so he "dominated" Diamond from the very start, forcing him to cush whilst having his bottle, and later, to cush on command. Diamond was a young adult when we saw him, and very well mannered indeed. He travels to country shows, gives rides to children and was trained to harness in a very short time (playing Rudolf to Russel's Santa at Christmas time). In short, he's a perfect "PR" llama.
I'd inadvertantly used Russell's bottle-feeding posture on Laika. Her determination to starve, and my arthritic back had led to that. I repeated it with Gershwin, who had to be caught to be fed as he remained with his mother until weaning. To the great amusement of my non-llamery friends, I caught him, following an obligatory chase around the paddock, using the handle of an umbrella around his neck. I've repeated the supplementation several more times with the offspring of other mothers, if they're making little progress in the first days and weeks. Surprisingly, these have not been Snowy's daughters or granddaughters, as to date they've all been excellent milkers. So far there's been no behavioural problem with any of them, apart from one orphanned female who seems to have a hormonal defect. "Bumping" in the llama yard at our farm is more likely to come from the adolescent daughters of dominant females, than from any of our high early interaction animals.
I have, however, come across a few badly behaved camelids elsewhere. The most agressive male llama I've encountered "in person", was not bottle fed. Perhaps due to his temperament and very cuddly appearance, he was handled a lot when very young. It seems that he was born "pushy"... nibbling noses and chest-butting humans from a very early age. Perhaps fortunately for the owners, he died young, for at the time he was too dangerous for the owner's wife to be in the paddock with him.
The most obnoxious llama I've met was a female, an elderly Chilean, which is unlikely to have been bottle-fed, though she could have been a "pet", with all that can imply. It was when we were visiting a herd in Victoria which was owned by a Canadian and on the verge of being exported en masse to that country. She was large, tortoiseshell-coloured and went by the name of "Rosie". As soon as we entered her paddock, she marched up to the manager's poor wife and spat in her face. Clearly, she'd gained the upper hand and was determined to keep her predominant position. A few bops on the nose with a tennis raquet would have fixed that, I'm sure.
An article in Llama Banner , told the tale of two male llamas, one of which had early surgery due to injurys and hence was given a great deal of attention, and another which had been totally isolated from a young age. The first llama was gelded at twelve months or so, to avoid problems, which never appeared, whilst the un-socialised animal turned nasty and eventually had to be put down. That account adds weight to my argument, since the usual recommendation is that unless gelding takes place in the first six months, there is no preventative effect on the development of "Berserk Male Syndrome".
The critical thing therefore, in avoiding one's llamas growing up to be "problem children", from the merely unpleasant to the out-and-out "berserker" seems to be the establishment of dominance by the human over the llama, right from the word go. Insistance on "good manners", with respect for personal space and a little llama's desire to be fed, patted or whatever, is always by invitation only . No "bumping", no rearing, no nibbling, is allowed, until the animal is well and truly mature and the llama-human interaction is a two-way street between friends. "Firm but fair", and always consistent, that's the ticket
Mind you, you don't have to be like the Piranah Brothers and nail their heads to a coffee table. What's the point of owning animals just the perfect height for a good old cuddle, if you can't have one on occasion? Laika loves a smooch as do Gaia, Priscilla and Wilhemina (all entirely mother-reared), so we have them often. Our nine-year-old queen llama, Aria (who wasn't bottle fed either), enjoys an occasional game of "boompsey daisey" with me, and four-year old stud llama Wulfie has to put up with kids on his back, being led about by all and sundry and generally hassled. It's the price he pays, for resembling a giant teddy bear. I'd trust him with my life. He has BLS, alright. Benign Llama Syndrome describes him to perfection.
By assessing the innate temperament of each individual llama, and behaving accordingly, it is possible to give a great deal of attention to a cria without paying the price of serious behaviour problems in the adult. The right sort of handling, particularly of males and even if it involves bottle-rearing, has a more beneficial effect than no handling at all.
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