(Part 1: Snowy)
Georgina M Byrne
Poor Laika. Her troubles started pre-natally. We bought her beautiful dam, Snowy, with the proviso that she be mated to a handsome but as-yet untried young male. By the time she'd been guaranteed pregnant, and a berth had been arranged in a crate travelling by air from Victoria with an assortment of camelids for four different owners, Laika was well on the way.
Snowy was one of the females included in the big "Agricola" importation from Chile to New Zealand in the late '80s. She landed in Perth at 5AM one cool spring morning in October, '92 . By that time, she'd been brought down from the Altiplano, by road, held in quarantine and subjected to heaven knows how many tests, travelled on a ship to New Zealand, held once more in Quarantine (more tests), lived on at least two farms, transported to Australia (more tests), lived on at least two more farms before being shorn to the skin yet again, subjected to yet more tests, trucked to the airport and finally, loaded into the crowded crate with a group of llamas and alpacas, including adult males.
Perhaps most significantly for us (though we were unaware of it at the time), her previous two cria had died a few days after birth. Michael had seen and photographed Snowy prior to purchase, we knew her approximate age and that she'd recently lost a cria, but we knew nothing of her personality or behaviour patterns.
To help reduce the stress of the 'plane journey from Victoria to WA, the animals had been given a diuretic, so the crate, when opened, was awash with urine and faeces. A rush of concerned owners anxious to remove their precious alpacas and llamas meant that the crate was soon emptied of its contents. All except Snowy, that is. There she sat, becalmed in the middle of the great odiforous puddle. She was wearing a halter and Michael was wearing a pair of work boots and equipped with a lead, so in he waded, clipped on the lead and gave a gentle tug. Absolutely nothing happened.
I was dressed for the occasion (camelids were very new in WA, very expensive and pretty swanky). I had on a Country Road shirt, designer jeans and a brand new pair of white leather Reboks. Michael tugged harder. This time Snowy screamed, a heart-rending doleful cry which caused the more fortunate owners to turn from their newly loaded floats and offer us their help. A second lead clipped to her halter made little difference, apart from raising both the volume and the pitch of her screaming. Michael got behind her to push, whilst I waded in to pull and the others stood by to help once she emerged from the crate. Still she sat. We tried harder and lubricated by the smelly slime she started to move. Like a great white snail, she slid on her knees, down the ramp and onto the tarmac, where for a blessed moment, her complaining ceased.
We backed our float closer, hoping she'd deign to arise and be led/driven/pushed up the ramp. She did stand up, briefly, on her own but one tug in the direction of the float glued her to the ground once more, and reactivated the sad siren of her distress. It took four of us, in the end, to drag and lift her on for the short journey to the quarantine paddock on our farm. Once there, she rose serenely to her feet and stalked off in silence, leaving her shaken owners to remove their ruined footgear and reconsider their llama-handling techniques.
Laika endured one more in-utero drama before her less-than-auspicious birth. We'd heard that newly-shorn llamas were at risk of pneumonia, and not long after the shipment had arrived, the weather forecast predicted a cold snap and heavy rain. The paddock Snowy occupied had no shelter shed. Anxious for the well-being of the precious foetus, as well as her valuable dam, I discussed the situation with my friend Susan who was equally concerned for her newly-acquired stud male. Perhaps a pony rug would do the trick? Sue bought hers from a local saddlery and had no problem attaching it to Lyndon. She offered to help me catch and put one on Snowy. Armed with a brand new rug and a couple of long sticks, we entered her domain. We had no difficulty in driving Snowy into the catch-pen and, in spite of the usual screaming, she sat still, enabling us to drape the rug across her back and do up the chest strap. Sue's young son Ricky stood by the gate outside the pen, to watch.
The screaming stopped. Snowy sat, resplendent in blue and red, with lambswool trim. All was calm. We wondered how we'd do up the belly straps. Maybe she'd stand long enough for us to do it? Maybe she'd just wander and graze sedately in her new attire as horses seem to do?
Snowy didn't stand. She leapt. Up she went, like a great blue and white bird. A Pegasus without wings. She almost made it over the top of the pen, fell back and without a pause, charged at the gate and burst it open, flinging the terrified child into the air and onto the turf. Straps flying and coat streaming behind her like superman's cape, she careened across the paddock. Once more airborne, she'd have cleared the fence into the next paddock, except that by this time the straps were entangled about her legs. Down she came with an almighty crash. There she stayed, ominously still and silent.
Alone, my heart in my mouth, I approached the fallen llama. Susan was consoling her screaming but mercifully undamaged son. Snowy must have been winded, or dazed or both, for she remained recumbent and unprotesting, whilst I untangled her legs, undid the chest-strap and removed the rug. I backed away. She rolled into a sitting position. She rose to her feet. Her head went down and she started to graze. She did not develop pneumonia and her pregnancy went full term.
Laika was born on the first of June, 1993. Naturally we have no way of knowing what effect pre-natal stress can have on a llama, but if they're anything like humans it's no wonder she had problems.
The pony rug has not been used again. We should have sold it. Perhaps I'll find someone to give it to. It's pretty dusty but otherwise undamaged. I suppose I could have taken it back, but it was a little grubby after its ten minutes' wear and in any case it was several days before either Susan, Ricky or I recovered from the experience.
Laika's birthday also involved poor Sue.
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