Llama Physiology

Fuzzy baby legs are growing up. A detriment in the showring (fuzz is deemed "big-boned", no fuzz is called "fine-boned" ... even if a tape measure can prove it's the opposite), "clean" legs are of no functional consequence other than beling linked to stronger shedding (Classic) genes in the remaining coat (which is an extremely and desirable trait in working animals ... for functional reasons). Six months is quite young for this trait to express — that's a good sign, but not entirely unexpected since Gaiya's known ancestry is 100% Classic. (Then again, those unavoidable unknowns do throw the occasional curve ball.)

Peanut's coat combs out just fine, but Peanut's opinion is that being combed is unending torture. Her breeder didn't handle her much, and I suspected Peanut's reaction to being combed was not really about combing, but a situation of responding to handling overload. So, I decided to try shearing Peanut this year, even though she looks like a million bucks properly combed, and even though it limits her upcoming packing experiences to late summer on "the wet side" of the Cascades (her coat density is rather sparse, so it will need plenty of time to grow back for adequate weather protection). Not every llama thinks shearing is OK — some carry on like they're being killed no matter what's being done (or not being done) to them — but Peanut's opinion was that even though being shorn was "handling overload", it was at a tolerable threshold as long as I caught all the signs of increasing fear and backed off. I was able to limit Peanut's unhappiness to some frightened whimpering hums and a few body slams (into the chute, not me). Beats the heck outta risking a sudden degeneration into screaming and repainting the area in smelly green. (Like everyone, when llamas are scared, they tend to freak and keep freaking. Thinking simply does not occur.) The real bonus is that no spitting means a treat afterwards is enjoyed rather than yet another cruel reminder that life totally sucks (because look, it's a treat and I can only taste YUCK). Next year Peanut's guard hair will only have grown out halfway, so revisiting whether combing makes life suck will be in order, and appropriate choices will then made for the future based on Peanut's response. Peanut was totally fascinated by the half-fleeces I pulled off each of her sides. What IS that? Can I smell it? Can I smell it some more??? Even though she isn't as glorious as when properly combed , Peanut is still a fine lookin' gal.

No, Elahn doesn't have milk on his knees. His knees have a slight medial deviation ("knock" knees). This is not uncommon in nursing lama babies. The show people (as well as those breeders who sell at weaning, while the "cute" factor is at maximum and production costs are lowest) get really bent out of shape about milk knees, but unless the baby receives poor nutrition after weaning, it gradually resolves. Elahn's sire Credo also had "milk knees", as have several other babies sired by Elahn's paternal grandsire Sky Rocket. Credo outgrew his by age 2.5 years, and so that's about what I'm expecting Elahn will do. It would be nice if Elahn's legs were pretty always, but bottom line is that it isn't an issue for the long haul. Babies born that way, or seriously crooked by this time — that would be different (although a huge number of other defects will ruin a llama's quality of life and/or stop it from packing long before knock knees will).

Approaching 23 years and, unfortunately, showing it. The Classic llamas I've had into old age thus far really "hit the wall" at 22.5 years. This winter, Zorra has gone from active and healthy to reduced muscle mass, lying around more, not so excited about having babies in the pasture, and a lot of hair loss. Sigh. The hair loss particularly distresses me because my experiences treating skin disorders in llamas have been VERY discouraging. :-(