What do you think runaway llamas eat on the hoof (so to speak)? And how did they get out from the field with two women there to keep an eye on them?

As a matter of fact it was Tim the farrier’s fault. You see this happened yesterday, while I was visiting my sister who is farm-sitting for Rosie, and Mary and I were still talking about Tim whilst she was busy refreshing the water trough and I was taking photo’s. Not surprisingly, we had quite forgotten the two llamas as we laughed and chatted about Tim’s cowboy chaps (those things that almost, but not entirely, cover the pants of a cowboy or hunky English farrier).

Now those sneaky llamas must have noticed how engrossed we were down by the fence, and they saw also that we had left the gate open; no doubt they knew as well that their fast food of choice lay just over the other side of the hedge…

“Oh no, they’ve gone,” I bemoaned.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get some of their special pellets and you can try to herd them back into their field,” said Mary.

I wasn’t too sure about my ability to herd llamas, after all they are rather tall, somewhat jumpy and jerky, and they have big teeth. Instead of risking any physical contact, which may have been rebuffed, I tried to coax them and entreat them with soft words of encouragement. They were like modern school children – they loved the attention but didn’t take a blind bit of notice of what I was saying. Similarly, a firm command (or shout, in other words) made no impact on them whatsoever, although the dogs almost stood to attention for a moment… until, presumably, they realised that it was just the llamas being reprimanded again.

No, the llamas moved only of their own free will, which they exercised quickly (perhaps for fear that I might have been hiding a hitherto unknown prowess in llama herding). One dashed to a holly bush in the corner by the gate to the upper paddocks, whilst the other raced to an ivy vine on the opposite side of the path; yes, llamas love to eat the choicest young holly leaves and ivy!

But Mary was right, most of all they love to eat brown pellets; the llamas nearly knocked me over in their rush to follow Mary as she shook the pan of pellets as if they were a maracas. I shut the gate and joined the feeding party; there was a great deal of disconcerting head-bobbing and jerkiness (and that was just from Mary and me!), but they were grateful enough to tolerate a little tentative patting on the neck.

Soon we were able to resume taking the four dogs through the higher pastures for their much anticipated walk; they had waited patiently on the path for the duration of the runaway llama incident. Funnily enough, as we reached the top of the adjoining field we heard some snorting sounds; we looked in the direction of the hedge and saw two familiar heads, craned on long stretched necks, looking at us from the other side of the hedge. From under their pretty long eyelashes, their eyes implored us to take them with us on our walk, and lips parted to reveal two sets of stout yellow teeth.

“Not likely,” we sisters thought alike, without the necessity for words. We laughed and ran off chasing the dogs through the long grass and wild flowers.