Well, it was a bit dramatic actually. I’d been keeping my eyes on Malachi and Inca all afternoon and they had been very good – no running off on their own into the hills – so they were gaining my trust. Then, about three-quarters of an hour before I was planning to go home, I looked around from the farmhouse kitchen sink and suddenly I noticed… Malachi and Inca weren’t there.

I had an idea where they were but I thought I’d rule out the closer fields first. I walked up past the old farmhouse to the sheep field where I had taken the black Labradors earlier in the day and the friendly sheep ran up to me as before.

“Have you seen Inca and Malachi?” I asked.

“Baa, are they humbugging you around again?” they sympathised and rubbed their nice woolly bodies against my legs.

“Sorry, I can’t stop – think I’ll see if the alpacas can shed any light,” I said extricating myself from from very nice sheep cuddles.

I stood at the gate by the adjacent field and the two alpacas came running down to find out what was wrong.

“What’s wrong Sally?” they asked looking quite concerned at first, then disappointed, “Oh, you haven’t brought us any pellets or goat food then?”

“Sorry, there’s a bit of a drama going on – can’t stop – I have to find Inca and Malachi before I go home,” I answered and went to pat one of the kindly faces but he jumped away.

In my heart I knew that the two free spirits had taken off past the llama field and into the hills on the other side of the valley; that’s where I would have gone on a beautiful sunny evening with the lowering sun behind me. I found a whistle on the kitchen table, said goodbye to Jazz and Sasha (who nodded back sympathetically), and walked over to the llama field. As I approached the wooden fence the llamas sensed my anguish and they came racing over to me.

“What’s wrong Sally?” one of them asked with a look of genuine concern.

“You know…” I said.

“Malachi and Inca again?” the llama knew alright.

“Yeah, I’ve got this whistle and, with a bit luck, they’ll hear it and come home,” I told them (by this time all the llamas had gathered around me).

“We’ll just follow behind you if you don’t mind,” one of the new mums said, “we don’t have much to interest us and we enjoy a bit of drama!”

“That’s fine by me,” I smiled, “I can do with all the moral support I can get.”

So all the llamas, including the babies (who are growing fast and getting quite canny themselves now), followed me to the fence at the end of their field. I didn’t cross the fence – there is an electric fence rather close by – but stood there blowing the whistle and calling the names of Inca and Malachi.

Inca, the younger of the two Labradors, came bounding up first and nearly knocked me over. Then Malachi, who wanted her own personal reunion, made a slightly slower dash into my arms (rather like they do in the old movies).

After our joyful reunions I admonished the naughty girls and they walked ahead of me; they were about to walk past the llamas when the errant girls were stopped in their tracks.

“They’ll be for it now!” little Star said to Tequila (the baby llamas).

I didn’t hear every word that was uttered between Star’s mum and Malachi but I saw a lot of ticking off and a head lowered in shame. And if you think I’m making all this up… well, I have the photographs to prove it!