Most importantly, I didn’t get spit on.
At least two people in our group did get to enjoy the bliss of chewed up grass cud… and the angry stare of a llama.
We had a llama growing up. His name was Tardy. I never asked how he got that name, but now I wonder. I also had a matching stuffed animal named Tardy. Both were white. One was much nicer than the other. My parents let me lead and pet Tardy, but I was watched pretty closely.
My best memory of Tardy was when we packed him to go backpacking in the mountains (like, real backpacking, not this “fake” backpacking that everyone seems to refer to on the east coast where you go set up a tent near a bank of showers and flush toilets. That is NOT backpacking.) Anyways. Tardy just stopped on the trail. I remember my dad absolutely losing his sh*t and trying to pull on Tardy as hard as he could to get him to move. And my mom telling my dad that was not going to work. I remember just staring at Tardy wondering how an animal could be that stubborn. Unfortunately for my parents, I was/am very much like a llama: if you want to try to convince me to do something, pulling as hard as possible definitely is not the winning strategy. Fortunately, my parents did train me not to spit cud as a small human.
Joking, obviously. I was not a spitter.
True story…I once was in a llama show. It was an obstacle class. I think my llama refused to walk through the poles, like any good opinionated llama. They are a very peculiar species. And yes, this whole post is really just a diversionary tactic so I could tell childhood llama stories.
The funny thing is, if you are pretty comfortable with animals or can read body language, you know exactly when a llama is thinking/planning/plotting to expel his/her spit on you. But the irony is that if you aren’t the person in their crosshairs, the chances of you successfully warning the target person in enough time for them to dodge is not very good.
It’s like one of those bad movies in slow motion… you know exactly what is going to happen, but there isn’t much you can do save tackle them to the ground or yell crazily. And really, llama spit is totally harmless. Think of it as a vegetable face mask. With some slime thrown in for good measure.
And, if you were wondering, llamas have large, banana shaped ears and are much bigger than alpacas. Alpacas typically have shorter, spear shaped ears. No, it’s not always that easy to tell them apart, though it’s a good start. Alpacas tend to be a bit more timid (and I think less likely to spit at you, too, though I wouldn’t push your luck). We unfortunately didn’t see any wild vicunas during our trip to Peru.
Anyways, I loved taking pictures of both llamas and alpacas in Peru. I especially enjoyed watching them watch/judge/assess humans. I will always have a true affinity for stubborn, spitting animals with crazy hair. The alpaca cape I got is pretty awesome, too.
