Where did the time go? Well, around here, it’s not hard to figure out. Delli, that’s where it went. Here’s Delli last year:
And here’s Delli dong his very best to be too pathetic to be shorn last April:
Then came the summer. It got hot. Remember the hot? It was pretty…hot. Delli and his two buddies, Orion and Capn’ Jack, were on lawnmower duty in the far field, and they were doing a bang-up job. They had a shade tent and plenty of water twice a day and life was good. Until it wasn’t.
At 3:00 pm, I decided it was just too hot to go out and feed. Nobody, not even an alpaca, likes to eat when it’s over 100 degrees. I waited until the sun was over the yardarm at 5:00 pm. As I neared the pen on the tractor (buckets of cold water in the loader), Orion and Capn’ Jack perked up, but didn’t get up right away. Hmmm. They got up when I stopped, but Delli didn’t, even when I began to yell. Why yes, panic, this would be a fine time to join the party.
He didn’t move. He didn’t blink. He was in full sun. There were flies. I pulled him to a sitting position as best I could, and dragged him into the shade. He didn’t seem to notice. And of course, I had left the phone in the house.
I ran to my neighbor’s house and pounded frantically on her back door. When she opened it I…I’m actually not sure what I said, this part is a little fuzzy, but I must have made myself clear because she grabbed some rehydration mix, water, and a bucket, I went running for my turkey baster and we both ran back out to the field.
There we stayed for the next three hours, pouring turkey basters full of fluids down his throat and packing ice under his chest and tummy. The vet came and did some intravenous fluids, then helped us load him into the tractor bucket to take him back to the run in shed and wading pool. His temperature was down to 106.
We tucked him into the wading pool with cold water and more ice and finally got his temperature to a less scary 102, though the poor guy was still far too weak to stand on his own. We muscled him into the run in shed, put a fan on him, and crossed our fingers. For four days. (Have I yet mentioned the unbelievable awesomeness of my neighbor who stuck with us through the entire ordeal?) Four days of turkey basters and brute strength alpaca lifting and terrible, terrible fear. But finally:
Wobbly, but upright! Our real fear at this point was brain damage–either temperature or parasite induced–and he didn’t seem to be ‘quite right’. Until I noticed his left eye. He must have hit something when he went down and now there was an awful wound. So…Yay! He’s not brain damaged!…he’s just blind.
A small amount of research showed that this was not an unusual alpaca problem, and I had simply been phenomenally lucky for 15 years. Another call to the vet (Muddy Creek Veterinary, by the way–fabulous folks!) and three more weeks of captivity for poor Delli, with me sticking him with needles and eye drops six times a day. Six. Times. A. Day. By day 27, we had both had more than enough thank you very much.
So, here’s your happy ending–Delli is fine, back with the herd and growing a new crop of amazingly lovely, soft, dark chocolate fleece. Look for yarns this fall!
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