Well. After three cancellations due to Covid and really wet weather, we finally got the chance to walk with llamas at Briery Hill Farm Llamas. It was – surreal. We were taken to the male llamas’ pen and every hairy head turned our way. We were introduced to each llama and their main personality – Freddie was tripping over his feet to say Hi, and Pick me! while Machiatto was plotting to tow the unwary up the hill and Rossi was wondering why these unworthy little bipeds were invading His Territory,
It was my (delayed) birthday treat, so I was given Rossi, and I’m not sure whether he was named after the MotoGP legend or the Italian gelato magnate, but he was regal. He disdained any attempt to groom him or pet him as if I were some tiresome fan, and if he wanted to stop and eat clover… he would stop and eat clover. And leaves. And grass. But like any king, he owned the superior look, and he was just gorgeous to walk with.
My husband got Troy, a sweet little white llama that leaned into the grooming brush and allowed a human arm around his neck. We were introduced to the llamas, offered a choice of which to walk with and given advice on the best way to walk with them that wouldn’t upset them (not in front of their eyeline, and on their left side). Lisa put a halter on each, gently and respectfully, let us brush them to get used to them and then led us all across the lawn (stopping to eat grass), through the orchard (stopping to eat leaves) and up the hill (stopping to eat clover, grass, and yes, to pee at great length). Can I say that the humans just walked – it was the llamas grabbing green mouthfuls and peeing for a whole five minutes while the rest of us waited, sniggering.
Our friends had walked llamas before and knew the drill. With Lisa’s advice, we understood how to control them and when to let them grab a snack or trot a little slower. Llamas are open-grassland creatures, always alert for predators, and don’t like walking in the woods. We had a brief trot through the woods and Rossi was definitely subdued until he spotted the grasslands ahead – then I was trotting to keep up with him.
The highlight was the little hill. One at a time, we led our llamas to the foot-high hump in the ground and they trotted to the top and stopped to pose for a photo. Troy almost leaned into my husband’s head for a ‘matey’ shot. Rossi marched to the top of the hill and POSED. I was left to stand with my head almost a metre below his, looking up and admiring his sheer magnificence. His ears arched inwards like horns, he turned his head and looked aloof. And handsome.
I gave him a pat on the neck as we walked back to the pen, and Rossi turned his neck away as if he was just so dreadfully tired of all this worship. Despite his professional weariness, it was a great experience – no, because he wasn’t a fawning Labrador of a creature, just a wild mammal with opinions of his own, it was a truly great experience. I was sorry to leave him to his pen. He was just politely horrified that he wasn’t given his treats immediately on returning from his walk.
I was a little apprehensive about the walk, but it was just great. The llamas were their own beasts, they would stop to eat when they liked and we could lump it, matey… but they were smart and handsome and full of character and it was a pleasure to see them snatching their clover treats. They were strong but gentle and compliant to a gentle tug on the halter when they were too far behind the pack and needed to be encouraged to walk on.
We sat at our cream teas afterwards, looking down to the lake and hearing the next clients choose their llamas. The cream tea was wonderful – soft scones with crusty tops, loads of cream and jam and strawberries, I was tempted to sneak over and tell the next clients to ask for Rossi, the King of the Hill, but I thought I’d let them choose for themselves.
Julia Chalkley 