Gwen (fishingcat)'s photos

All llamas may flehmen at dung piles and occasionally other items (probably things that have a similar smell, a finding that we humans would be fully ignorant of). However, it is most common in adult intact males inspecting dung piles and processing the scent for Important Information (sex of the other llamas and their likelihood of being interested in mating with him). The second most common occurrence is when any llama gains access to a new pasture with dung of unfamiliar llamas, as Koa has just done here. He's inhaling deeply into his Jacobson's organ (something we humans don't have) and memorizing all the information he can about who left that pile (how many, what sex, etc). If he later encounters those llamas, he'll then use that information wisely (oops, these are the land owners and I'd better be nice ... or if he were older, HA, the land-owners, I'm gonna whup their butts). During flehmen, the head is held with the nose straight up in the air and the head wiggles and rotates, presumably to move as many scent molecules to the target as possible. The tail also may jerk up and/or wag, depending on whether the information found brings on the emotions that lead to such tail language.

Cricket and Sage It's a impressive indicator of these two llamas' noncombative natures that they just veered slightly away from one another instead of starting a squabble.

Cricket sees a change in her pasture (some dropped manure from the tractor) and everything MUST be put on hold while she inspects it. It's not just Cricket ... it's a healthy llama thing.

Although Joey is the grumpiest, Shuksan is the leader in Elahn's group, and Elahn knows it. Here's a good example why — Shuksan notices everything, and doesn't stop looking until he's sure it's safe. That's a good leader (for a llama). Elahn is learning from Shuksan, too.

Elahn got too close to Joey (an elder). Joey's subtle body language is crystal clear to Elahn, whose body language immediately says "OOPSIE..."

Elahn's "new" pasturemates continue to define their boundaries, and Elahn continues to have mostly figured out that he's likely to piss them off, but not so much WHAT pisses them off. He still extends that body language to me on occasion, particularly after a conflict with one of the other llamas.

You'd think they were glued together or something! Sage is actually more independent than Gaiya (who is somewhat insecure and still tries to nurse the nearest adult, with predictably green results).

Sage (front), Gaiya (left) and Elahn (right) I was in their space (taking photos, of course) and TRIED to back up. Yeah, right. With predators, leaving (especially running) triggers the chase-attack-kill instinct chain (that's why you do NOT run from a cougar!). For llamas, which are prey animals, anything that leaves (and isn't TOO scary) gets followed ... and the faster it leaves, the faster it gets followed. For the individuals, it's just curiosity. For the species, it so happens that what would have been a minor threat turns into something that doesn't want to come back after being "followed" by a whole group of big animals. If these baby llamas were baby guanacoes (their wild counterparts) instead, this behavior and its successes results in adults that have the inclination and confidence to run off the small and medium-sized predators that would otherwise decimate the next generation of babies. And, just as in species we're more familiar with (including humans), the larger the group, the more confidence, and more risk-taking behavior. For example, Sage wouldn't begin to be the first to approach me if not backed up by her cohorts. This bunch doesn't think I'm a scary person per se, but I did do a scary thing. Being in their space to take photos can mean I'm closer to at least one than they planned on (they like proximity choices to be entirely theirs). In this case, I was in the midst of the herd, and that was deemed "weird." A more serious aspect of this behavior is that because normal llamas are "physically distant", far too many people get inappropriately excited when the "follow" response kicks in and unwittingly encourage it ... resulting in more than a few adults that chase humans out of their pasture. It's a balancing act, raising impressionable young llamas!

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.)

Both Elahn and Gaiya are feeling the other's breech-of-personal-space as evidenced by their ears being back. But ... both are also really wanting to check out the others' nose and mouth odors (something adults would never permit). As they mature, personal space defense will suddenly take priority for one, spit threats followed by the real thing will ensue, and they will evolve ever closer to adult social behavior.

Boredom plus a touch of hormones drives Elahn to sniff other llamas' butts (he doesn't know why some attract him more than others, and he doesn't care ... yet). Gaiya has no interest in having her boundaries violated for no reason, so off she goes ... keeping both ears and a portion of her visual attention on Elahn. If the two were to remain together long enough, this would eventually become a sexual pursuit. Right now it's kid stuff, and good exercise (and a better alternative than eating non-stop — obesity is a problem in North American llamas, too).

Elahn is also trying (hard!) to send that "I'm really little [meaning I can't hurt you] so please don't hurt me" message ... but for an entirely different reason. A few days prior, Elahn was bored and (in llama language) invited me to play with him ... by rearing up and bumping me (fairly hard) when my back was turned. This is (not surprisingly) unacceptable behavior in a domestic animal, especially one that will eventually outweigh me by more than 200%. My response was to immediatly dump Elahn on his side and hold him down for awhile. **WARNING: I am well-versed in llama behavior, physically fit, and skilled in advanced llama handling (the kind almost nobody else even knows exists, let alone uses). I also know my animals well — this would NOT have been my response with a baby of some other females (who would unhesitatingly attack — Megan in fact RAN over and hummed nonstop, very upset, but neither spat nor struck at me ... because that's who she is). Translation — DO NOT try this at home!!!** The initial end result is precisely what I needed — Elahn is now firmly cognizant that I am not a plaything, and that thinking before acting is on the top of his list when he sees me. The downside, of course, is that because Elahn's behavior (that triggered my response) was so normal to his world that he can't (yet) figure out what got into me, and so he tells me at every opportunity that ... he's really small and wouldn't hurt me and so pleasepleaseplease don't hurt him. Eventually Elahn will intellectually puzzle out where the happy medium is, perhaps after doing the same thing to a different human and perhaps not, which is why I don't allow humans without llama savvy in the baby/maternity llama pasture without supervision! Such are the trials both of growing up (for Elahn) and of raising up young 'uns (for me) ...

As evidenced by the "U" neck and tail laid over her back, Sage is sending the "I'm really little [meaning I can't hurt you] so please don't hurt me" message, in this case indicating that I have moved out of the "predator" category (no prey animals in their right minds try to talk to predators!). In this particular instance, Sage is really curious, but wants to be sure that she doesn't trigger any scary behavior from me — she is not yet confident that she can predict what a human will do. In context, this is a good thing. In isolation (that is, without any history), it could have many other meanings. For instance, amourous male llamas use this posture in an attempt to approach closer to females ... and I would not want to be on the receiving end of THAT concept!

Demonstration by Lost Creek Ranger Ceilidh. Llamas like to roll in dry, dusty spots (watch out when finding those on the trail!), and will enlarge any promising site in their pastures. Rolling is primarily driven by "itchiness" (llamas who itch more, whether due to personal sensitivity or actual parasitization, roll a lot more). Aside from that, as with horses, rolling also serves to unweight the spine and allow slightly displaced vertebrae an opportunity to self-correct. That long neck is used as both a lever and a counterweight in the process; the tail also participates (see the sixth photo in particular) but doesn't really accomplish anything. :-)

Llamas can scratch themselves just about anywhere, thanks to a long and flexible neck. Horses definitely wish they had this capability!

All manner of things can cause a llama to feel itchy, just like us ... although living out-of-doors increases the odds of encountering bugs and seed heads and pieces of hay. Factoid — although llamas can acquire a number of external parasites, they do not get fleas. A good thing, because wet-stern Oregon is flea heaven.

Misty, on the left, is actually sending ME the body language message (I too suddenly "looked" at her with the Big Black Eye), but Peanut, on the right, assumes Misty's declaration of offense (and warning not to come closer) is aimed at her. Peanut is actually frozen in place (I could have snapped the shutter for literally minutes and all the shots would have been identical). That lack of movement, along with leaning away and averting her eyes is how Peanut (or any llama not looking for trouble) responds to an irritated herdmate that isn't actively demanding a specific response. Physical confrontations are much more dramatic, but this subtle kind of "problem solving" is vastly more common among herd prey animals, whose continued survival as a group benefits from not hurting each other. Camelids (including llamas) have the additional option of escalating a confrontation to a spitting spree before getting physical; other herd animals do not.