My pal Cindy

Good Grief! I’ve not blogged since Kenni was 14! Kenni just turned 17! Yikes! I’m blogging for my friend Cindy. Cindy is a fierce food blogger. She wants me to blog about food but I’m more of a generalist so today’s blog is going to be about Cindy. Well really it’s going to be about our friendship. I met Cindy when I was pregnant with Helen and she was pregnant with her son Eddie. She was much bigger I have to point out even though I was farther along. We met at the Loch Alpine Ladies tea. I cannot for the life of me remember why I went to that, why I would ever have gone to something like that. They had a string quartet and finger sandwiches for crying out loud. I hate both. I remember I wore a fancy blue velour dress but it was way too hot for velour. However you couldn’t wear sweatpants to something with a string quartet and finger sandwiches even if you were 7 months pregnant. Thank goodness I did go because it began a deep vital friendship if I had to find a media parallel think Lucy and Ethel. You know epic! Cindy was in the kitchen talking loudly about her vagina to women who she barely knew and I knew that I had found a kindred spirit. Our friendship was forged pushing our newborn children around our neighborhood. We would get just about as far away from our homes as we could be and then either Helen or Eddie would go off in that newborn cacophony of wailing and we would race back for home. We were in great shape. We cooked together, we canned together, we went wild foraging, we made maple syrup when I had cracked ribs, we attended la leche league meetings, we worried about our children’s development, and of course we complained about our husbands. I think I read somewhere that complaining about your man is the yeast that makes women’s friendship rise. We had 5 years of stroller pushing, salsa canning, cosmo drinking, man whining about and then disaster, we had to move away. We moved from Michigan to NY. I thought oh no we’ll talk a lot and then less often and then rarely and then we’ll just exchange Christmas cards and that will be it Christmas card friends. My fears were not realized. My mom said not to worry she said that we would be friends forever and that distance never hurt a true friendship. My mom was right.
Cindy and I talk most days sometimes multiple times a day. Conversations begin like this: what are you making for dinner, how did that roast turn out last night? I think I’m getting really really old. Did you go to the doctor yet? Why not? Can you believe he said this? I am just so mad? You won’t believe this; she deleted my post on the facebook! (We call facebook “the facebook” because we are old) Get this; she whined that she had too much homework to help! I’m going walking; if I were there I’d go with you.
We occasionally get together. We have met several times in lovely Erie PA to cavort at Splash lagoon. Okay the kids are cavorting while we drink overpriced fruity drinks. Most recently Kenni my eldest and I drove out to attend Cindy’s Dad’s funeral. Cindy’s dad was a character. He always knew a good dirty joke to share. Cindy adored him. The after lunch was held at the Knight’s of Columbus same place they had Cindy’s mom’s after funeral lunch. I was excited to be back at the Knight’s of Columbus because they always serve stuffed cabbage and I never get to have that. Cindy and I discussed each food choice and reminisced about her Dad.

So any who Cindy is the queen of food blogs and I mean the queen and she is having a food blog contest. She is doing the blog challenge and wants a recipe each month featuring a particular herb or spice. This month it’s rosemary so I offer my pork roast recipe. I don’t measure stuff mostly so my recipes are bit surreal.

Get a nice large pork loin roast. If its one of those that actually comes apart in two pieces its the perfect choice.

Get a can of pears (unsweetened if possible ) reserve the juice, and smash the pears into mush with a potato masher I work through a lot of aggression doing this
Chop a clove or two of garlic
Get a tablespoon of chopped rosemary (I use dried usually)
You can also add in a tablespoon of sage and one of thyme
Mix it all together and slather it in between the two roast halves and tie the thing together. Rub a little all over the outside.

Put the reserved pear juice into the bottom of the pan with some water to cover the pan. This will make the best gravy of your life. Watch that this does not evaporate and burn. Add more water as needed.

Cook at whatever temp you like to cook pork roasts I usually pre-heat the oven on broil and then drop it down to 335 and cook until its done. (I use a meat thermometer). I like my meat incinerated, my husband likes it too juicy so this will usually cause some sort of altercation.


Also make some sauerkraut and apple sauce. If you get a large roast you can have sandwiches for a couple days, and those will be really good too.

Alpaca Farm Mom vs Alpaca Farm Daughter

The first day of school was today, a day I’ve been dreading since the end of June. I love summer with my girls (now aged 14 and 11). Well, I love that they sleep in all morning and don’t fight and then we have relaxed days of washing fleece and felting and alpaca training. Kenni was starting at the high school for the first time going into 10th grade. Helen was starting 6th grade at the middle school. This means that both will be on the bus together for the first time (not that they will sit together). The bus arrive will arrive at 6:49. Ahhhhhhh! The first pre-school fight was this past week.
Kenni is so smart its scary and very much caught up in a need to be cool and fit in with other teens. Hence our fight. Kenni approached me and said, “I’d like to get my belly button pierced.” I said, “No way and here is why, there is a risk of infection, scaring, and on top of that I think it’s sexual!” We then went around on this for roughly three hours. I, in a brilliant use of the internet, googled “Naval piercing complications” and got some nice gory images. For a while I was winning with a spectacular image of keloids. I then found an article on a mother who went to jail after her 13-year-old daughter nearly died from naval piercing complications. I told Kenni I didn’t want to go to jail. “ I just want to keep you safe,” I said!
“You are being over protective,” she said. “You never let me do anything and I’m moving out when I’m 18 and getting my belly button pierced and if I get a horrible incurable disease its because you didn’t take me when I was 14, it will be all your fault” she blackmailed! “You can postpone this but not prevent it so why not just give in?” she pleaded.
I countered, “A belly button piercing is just a sign post for the vagina!” I thought that was clever and really really funny but Kenni did not! Andy came in and said in a deep evil voice, “Never in a million years is this going to happen under my roof.” That ended it for a while. I was like wow great use of the phrase “under my roof” I hadn’t heard that one since my parents deployed it on me when I was about 14. I can’t remember what I wanted to do. I’m sure then it was so important to me then.
The second fight was last night with Kenni again, it seems all the cool kids leave the high school and go eat at one of the fast food restaurants down on the parkway. Kenni expected that we would cheerfully fork over $4-5 dollars each day so she could hang out with the beautiful people at Burger King. That is just not going to happen we said and she launched into a rant about why-do-we-have-to-be-so-poor. Secretly I’m worried she might accidentally walk in front of a car on the parkway! My farm girls living out of the country at the end of a really long driveway have very little traffic experience. I actually gave them both “look both ways” lectures this morning. Fight 3 the one I was expecting actually didn’t happen. I thought we were going to have a clothing battle but Kenni complied with my suggestion she go back upstairs for two wardrobe adjustments a cami strategically placed under her low cut blouse and then spandex leggings under a way too short skirt. This cooperation was an obvious ruse designed to distract me from the fact that she was wearing make-up. (I was mentally chanting my mother’s finest advice “Pick your battles, pick your battles, pick your battles”). Helen and I had no battles at all. Our battle will be tomorrow as she doesn’t want to turn in the note from the doctor saying she can’t do gym for a month since she broke her wrist in July. She just got the cast off this week and is supposed to take it easy for one more month.
“The bus! I hear the bus”, I scream! “Run run run!” Kenni can’t find one of the snazzy flip flops she was going to wear and since she had spent a lot of time painting her toe nails to match this was a disaster. Our ancient senile cat “Fuzz” also peed on Helen’s nice sweater (left on the floor of the foyer). Kenni informs me in a parting shot, “I just want you to know Bethany just got her belly button pierced”. In a swirling tornado of estrogen they leave. This is the first time ever that I wasn’t allowed to walk (or run) with them out to the bus, I expected it but still it made me sad. The farm is quiet now too quiet! I plot the death of Bethany’s mother. Andy goes back to sleep. I head out to the barn but I miss my girls and I can’t wait for them to get home!

The Reluctant Alpaca Midwife

As I write this we have had over 40 cria, most delivered by their moms with ease but we have a few dystocias i(stuck babies) including one horrible breech birth. Generally it goes pretty good with no help from the farmer but you just never know. I used to look forward with total joy and bliss for each farm birth. That changed after a couple of dystocias, stuck babies. I felt helpless watching and wanted to be able to do something if I could. A reluctant alpaca midwife was born. I took a class on delivering stuck baby alpacas. I don’t know if they have such classes for stuck baby sheep or stuck baby goats but we do have them for stuck baby alpacas. They actually have fake alpaca uteruses and they put real dead baby alpacas in them and you practice figuring out the position and how to correct it. Its gross, no joke but really really helpful. Since I took the class I’ve used it 4 times at our farm and 3 times at other farms. I even un-stuck a friend’s lamb. I’m a big advocate of calling the vet when needed but country vets are far away and sometimes they just can’t get there fast enough. The clock can really be ticking on a stuck baby. Alpacas rarely have problems with births (the estimate is about one in twenty births). When it happens instead of a head and two legs presenting you get things like one leg back, both legs back, neck twisted head back, breech presentation, a litany of terror that no alpaca owner likes to hear.
What can you do to prepare for such problems? You can take a neonatal clinic. One of the local farms Hilltop Alpacas organized Dr. LaRue Johnson to come do this for us with a local vet Dr. Chris Cammon. Dr. Johnson is legendary and he had done this clinic almost a 100 times when he did ours. He's a wiry energetic man with an earthy wit. He just turned seventy but you can feel his spark and fire. Here is the scary thing he brings fake uteruses and uses real dead cria that didn't make it for one reason or another. Some of these sad little babies were dystocias that couldn't be saved, some were born dead for no known reason, some had birth defects. I signed up because I wanted to be able to do everything I could if something went wrong and the vet couldn’t get there in time. Now large animal vets are amazing. They do try to get there but you just never know if they are out on another emergency call, what if there isn’t time? Cell phones being what they are we do loose contact with them on the road. We all live way out in the country and it sometimes takes an hour or more for them to get to your farm. So many of the local farms signed-up for a neonatal hosted by a local farm.
Hilltop Alpacas is perched on the edge of a serene lake in Hancock New York. Today, is the first of October 2005, and the trees are bit late some are just kissed with the first vibrant reds and golds of fall. The air is cool. A new baby alpaca is getting acquainted with her mother in a pasture as we drive in. A good omen for the day maybe? The Youngs run a summer camp here that must be something in this beautiful setting. The Young family has been a moving force in the alpaca industry for nearly a decade. Scott does a lot of the alpaca shearing in these parts and we are glad to have him do it. He descends on your farm like a Viking conqueror and shears alpaca with a quick precise efficiency that is wonderful to behold. He remains patient with all of us as we try and keep up.
Lots of our alpaca buddies signed up. Denise signed up, Donna signed up Linda signed up, Sharon signed up, Dan signed up. Karen signed up. Susan signed up. Cathy signed up. Some like Cathy and Susan had lost cria. You can see the pain in their faces. You just wait so long, a year and there is so much hope. What color will it be? Will it be a boy or girl? Will it champion? Will it be a girl? Will it be the next big thing? Will it be a girl? Okay we all want girls but it doesn't really matter boy, girl, white, gray show winner or fiber pet. We love them all and they are all beautiful. We want to be able to help if a bad thing happens!
Denise and I were nervous, neither of us had ever lost a cria when we took the clinic (knock on wood). I honestly had never seen a full term dead baby before (knock on wood). We were not sure if we were going to handle this dead baby thing very well. Nearly everyone was nervous. The first couple hours was lecture sprinkled with Dr. Johnson's dry sense of humor. Past students had asked him what do you call a male alpaca? A male he replied! What do you call a female alpaca? A female!
It was cold in the large camp meeting room. Cold and yet the wall was decorated with warm bright camp banners past campers had painted. We went over the basics broke for lunch and came back for a bit more lecture. We all knew what the afternoon would bring and the tension heightened. Then Dr. Johnson kicked us out. We stumbled out into the sunshine and watched the new cria play. After awhile, “Come on in”, Dr. Johnson called!
Arrayed on the tables were the fake uteruses. They are made of heavy duty bags about the size of an alpaca uterus. Inflated plastic gloves give them rigid sides. The bags were zippered down the middle so that Dr. Johnson and Dr. Cammon could place the cria in there in a variety of perplexing positions. The first exercise was touch! You put your hand in and tired to determine the position. No talking about it just feel and move on. Cria have just the four legs of course but you have to figure out if you have front legs back legs or one of each. We came up with an observation obviously the legs bend in different directions but still, there is a knobby projection on the second joint of the back leg and the third of the front leg. So we said knob on two boo hoo! (ie you have a back leg) Knob on three yay for me! (you have a front leg). I stuck my hands in the first uterus. Now you are wearing an obstetric sleaves and gloves but its cold and dead in there. I touch the baby and its very slippery, I feel something, an ear? No a tail and what's that a leg? One leg, front or back???!!! Knob on two back leg for you! Posterior with the right back leg presenting. On to the next. Two legs, knob on three front legs for me, and the head right here with them! A normal presentation! Tricky tricky Dr. Johnson, another one is actually a torsion and since the cria is in a knotted twisted bag and we can't feel it very well a bottle neck cue develops by that one. I'm not so nervous anymore and I'm not so cold. We practice correcting and delivering the babies. I didn't think of this but they are all different colors white and brown and fawn. It makes it harder to see them, they are more real. At least one of them was Scott's baby and one was from Susan's farm. I wonder if that makes it harder for them? They are cold but they feel like the real babies they are with impossibly long legs and necks. My hands are covered in lube and dead cria bits. Dr Johnson offers to scratch people noses for a dollar. Its gross of course, the cria leak, puddles develop on the floor and we towel this miasma up with startlingly cheery lost and found camper towels (which are thrown out later of course). We make it through, Dan was worried he'd faint but he didn't. Karen went out for air but we all knew how she felt.
We wash up and sit down to a yummy pasta buffet. Some leave not having appetites for pasta. The cria remain in the uterine bags some sad little legs stick out or an ear. Thank you little lost ones, maybe a future baby will be saved by your loss. We feel better, not that this will replace the need to call the vet but now if disaster strikes and you can't get a vet there is at least you have some skill set to try. Moreover, the ability to tell if something is indeed wrong has been improved. We graduate Dr. Johnson has given us a certificate, we all graduate summa cum llama.

Big Belly Blues

I’m on cria watch for one of my favorite alpaca Peruvia (Ruvi for short). Cria watch is what we do when we are in the window for an alpaca birth. We start about a month before the cria is due. We go out and check the barn every hour during the morning and every two hours in the afternoon. We check once or twice in the night. We don’t all go anywhere unless its a lighting strike with a quick return. Mostly alpacas don’t need help but if they do you risk loosing the baby and the mom if you are not around. We have had over 40 births and we have never been off farm when one happened. Now sometimes we have missed seeing the birth but not by much. Our non-alpaca farming friends think we are nuts but heck when you have a lovely farm why do you want to leave it anyway?
I love all our alpacas but some have very special places in my heart and one of those is Ruvi. We bought Ruvi when she was a tiny tot. I don’t think she was 2 months old when we bought her. She was a cria at the side of her glorious mother Elsa. We bought them both sight unseen from Destiny Alpacas. I’m not sure why, there was something about Elsa I just liked. She is tall and regal. She has a neato face. Honestly her face looks just like Chewbaca the Wookie’s from Starwars. She has a hint of a mask around her eyes and wookie-esque nose. Her fiber is dreamy. She is a crimpy fine medium/dark fawn, the color of a perfectly toasted bagel still nice even at her rather advanced age. Elsa has one fault she is now sixteen years old. That is pretty darn old for a still reproducing alpaca dam. Elsa is a world traveling alpaca she was born in Huarapina Peru on a ranch in the rural Alianza cooperative. She was imported through the Alpaca Registry in the United State and exported to a ranch in Australia. She was eventually exported again to a farm in Canada and then on to Destiny Alpacas in Georgia and finally to us. She is not going anywhere else. I don’t know how many cria she had in Australia but she has 9 registered cria in the US registry. Five of her cria are champions. Five!! You might be able to tell but Elsa is also one of my favorites too, mostly because she is gentle and kind. Now back to Ruvi, unlike her mother she was a spitfire from her difficult get-go.
She had been a dystocia (stuck baby) and her one leg got bent during the desperate stuggle to get her born alive down at Destiny. By the time Ruvi came to us she still had just a hint of trouble with that leg it turned out a bit when she walked. Big deal I thought we just won’t show her. Ruvi had everything I like to see in an alpaca she was proud and haughty she strutted around like all of us, human and alpaca alike, were beneath her. Every once in a while she would pronk straight up in the air and dance around, and play with the other babies (especially Tam). Then she seemed to look around to see if anyone noticed this lapse in dignity. She had wild glorious fiber, it hung all over in snakey crimpy tendrils. I’d never seen any fiber like it. She grew into a small alpaca compared to her mom but with a broad deep frame witht hick tree trunk legs. My Dad would have said she was built like a brick sh*t-house sorry that’s what he would have said, crude but accurate). She’s fiery in temperament but she loves to have her chin scratched and she does like to be petted. You can do just about anything with her. Her leg seemed okay so we took her to her first show, she was so tiny that Andy could have carried her into the ring in his pocket. She went in a giant class of 15 and although the judge kept coming back to look at her she got the gate and didn’t place. Maybe it was her tiny size, her leg, her unusual fiber who knows? We waited until she had a nice growth spurt, leg looked great and tried again at the Maryland Alpaca Show the next spring. She took first in her class and champion in her color! We entered her in several more shows but after Maryland we noticed she got a mite infection in her back feet (just a little read cracked skin between her toes). It took forever to heal. She missed every other show that spring. I was so disappointed after she had done so well at Maryland. She also missed getting shorn so Andy drove her over to our shearer’s. Andy took her and when he got back I asked, “How did it go?”
“Oh fine.” He said (long pause). “Well there was one thing.”
“What?” I asked becoming alarmed that she got nicked or something.
Long pause again, Andy, “Scott found a dead hummingbird in her fleece.”
Me thinking that Scott and Andy were fooling around, “What! @#!!#$!! What? You are kidding! Where?!”
Andy, “On her neck!”
Now I have heard all kinds of stories about what folks find in fleece usually bags of fleece, a friend who ran a mill had a display on all the stuff she pulled out of fleece (my personal favorite was a kid’s action figure.) You don’t hear so many stories about what you find in fleece actually still attached to the alpaca. Some poor little hummingbird got all tangled in her long neck fleece and expired. Scott later threatened to report us to the Audobon society and happily shared the bird story with everyone. File it under strangest thing found when shearing an alpaca.
Ruvi was all better and went to the prestigious Empire Extravaganza that fall and took blue in her class. Another farm wanted to buy her but I found I just couldn’t part with her and Andy felt the same way. When she got home from the show we bred her to our stud Magneeto. Her pregnancy was uneventful until the next fall she got a respiratory infection (the infamous “Snots”) which perhaps triggered an early birth. I was home alone when she went into labor. Andy was at work in class, Dr Wendy our faithful vet was away at a conference due back that night. My friend and fellow alpaca farmer Ann B was out walking her dogs. We had a big problem, Ruvi and I, Ruvi had a stuck baby herself.
All that was peaking out was a little gasping squeaking mouth and nose and there it stopped and no more progress. I went into the house and called Dr Wendy in the desperate hope she maybe took an earlier flight but of course she had not. I tend to swear when stressed and left a profanity ridden plea on Ann B’s machine but she was out and 20 minutes away if she had been right at her phone. The neighbors were away too. I thought how can I do this with no one holding her but here is the strangest thing, Ruvi just laid there and let me go in and correct the baby’s position. I got my ob sleaves on and lubed up and worked my hands in, I found both front legs bent hung up at the elbows. I straightened them and but this point Ruvi was too tired so I wiggled the baby out. Oh my gosh it looked like a mini-Ruvi, same color same snakey crimpy fleece and a girl to boot. We named her Quenti which is Quechua for Hummingbird. Quenti is more like Elsa in personality laid back and kind, not a little fireball like mama. Ruvi took to motherhood like a duck to water. She was fascinated with Quenti and would not let her out of her sight for days. Quenti went running and playing with Ruvi chasing her and trying to keep her safe. When it was time, we re-bred Ruvi to her childhood sweetheart rose gray Tamerlane. Tam is also one of my favorite alpacas. I look forward to every single baby alpaca birth I just can not wait for this baby. It will be Tam’s first and I’m hoping to will be his color which is a heathered pink (really really).
Here is the thing Ruvi’s belly is huge huge huge. It was never this huge with Quenti. Every single farm visitor has asked, “When is she due?” They started doing this is May but she is due September 25th. Then they ask if I’m sure, then they ask if I’m really really sure. Sure I’m sure Quenti was born September 17th she didn’t get pregnant when she was pregnant with Quenti. Even Dr Wendy asks me when she is due. Sigh! She’s due September 25th, September 25th!
Her belly is huge huge huge. When she rolls in the dusty dust bath spot she gets stranded and can’t get up. She looks like a big fuzzy (dusty) turtle over on her shell. She is last out of the barn and last in. She waddles, when she walks and one day she tried to run in a herd frolic and she and her belly were going different scary directions. I had to sit down, I thought she was going to explode. She lays with her legs cocked to the side. She’s bagged up but no signs under the tail that things are close. I can’t concentrate, I’ve got a million things to do but mostly I hang out at the barn watching her. I keep saying I just want a healthy baby and that is of course a lie, I always want a healthy baby but what I really want is a baby with her fiber in Tam’s color! Snakey crimpy pink tendrils of divine fiber to play with! But I’m tense and anxious, I dream of twins, sometimes they are okay sometimes they are not. Last night I dreamt she had twin black girls each the size of my foot. Perfect little miniatures! Alpaca rarely twin successfully and that is my deep fear that the reason she is so big is twins. They talk about the wonderful alpaca lifestyle (and it is wonderful) but sometimes its not too relaxing. Back to stare at that huge belly. More when she births!


here is her link if you want to see what she looks like:

http://www.alpacanation.com/alpacasforsale/03_viewalpaca.asp?name=33613

Alpaca Farm Mom Does the Unheard of! She leaves the farm for 3 days.

The kids were complaining that they were having “the worst summer ever”. Helen was in fact having a yucky summer, she fell off her pony and broke her wrist. Having a cast in the summer is the worst! Kenni felt she was having a yucky summer on principle because she is 14 and everything is horrible. So I decided to take them to the beach for a couple days. This was a radical move on my part as I almost never go anywhere. We do around 5+ alpaca shows a year. I love going to alpaca shows! You are with your own kind, your posse, other folks who don’t think you are a freak for buying incredibly expensive livestock. Also alpaca folks are just the nicest folks around. However, I almost never get to go anymore as we are on cria watch just about year round. We have had in the neighborhood of 40+ alpaca births and around 20 sheep births and at least one of us has been home when one was born. We’ve not seen them all (sheep are especially sneaky) but we are here checking checking checking. I don’t mind not seeing a birth that is not why we are hanging around, what I worry about is not being here when a mom has a rare birthing problem. I’m the one that tends to do the birthing stuff especially if there are problems. I took the neonatal course first (where you learn to correct stuck babies, dystocias). Andy my devoted hubby has since taken it too but sadly I just don’t trust him on birthing. He always thinks things are fine, I always tend to think things are bad. He actually didn’t notice a baby once when he was home on cria watch. Little Helen went out to the barn to check on things for me and came running back that there was a new baby walking (WALKING as in already up and) around. Andy had been back and forth to the barn and just thought it was the previous baby who happened to be the same color. Yikes, how observant is that! We have not had that many stuck babies but if we had not been home when they were stuck it would be bad (dead baby or even a dead mom). I do think Andy would notice a stuck baby hanging partly out of a mom but you never know.

Sooooo as we technically had a short break on cria watch. I told the kids we could go to the beach for a couple days. I even told them they could each invite someone to bring along. As they have gotten older and become less thrilled with each other’s company a “friend along” has proven to be a bonus. Sadly none of Helen’s friends could go but one of Kenni’s could. So off we went to Delaware Bay where my totally cool friend Gail has a little beach house. We had a lovely time, the weather was perfect. The kids loved the beach. Helen loved the shells and all the little creatures she could see. We saw two Osprey nests!!! Kenni loved wearing her bikini and floating around artistically on a raft. They both loved going to the board walk and that’s where the trouble started. They both insisted that we buy hermit crabs to take home. They have been to the beach with their grandparents before and came back with hermit crabs. They viewed this as a beach tradition.
My argument against this was that we already have lots of animals (45 alpacas, 15 sheep, 3 horses, 4 cats, 1 jumbo sized dog, 3 bunnies, 2 tortoises, 3 turtles, 2 iguanas and 1 beta fish. Why the heck did we need to add in hermit crabs to this already insane number of animals? They insisted that it was their money. I tried more logic, every time we have gotten hermit crabs they died relatively quickly. One lasted 18 months but the rest were gone before we even got to know them. I said they are the only pets that should come with their own little coffins! Its too sad, you guys cry and its awful. Like an idiot I let them go off on their own and of course they came back with hermit crabs. Worse yet these had little painted shells. Helen’s was painted blue with a little dolphin on it and Kenni’s was painted yellow with Sponge Bob on it. She doesn’t even like Sponge Bob! These poor little crabs who already live in lovely shells now have their dignity stripped away by being forced to live in garish painted shells with idiotic cartoon characters on them. I was briefly obsessed with curiosity on how they paint these shells. Are the crabs in them when they do or do they paint a bunch and hope the crabs move in??? Are there folks who do this for a living? Crab shell painters?? I guess I don’t really want to know. As the girls approached with their new temporary pets. I said, “What name are we going to put on their little tomb stones this time?” The rest of our beach time was spent in debating what names they should have, and ultimately they came up with Vinnie (for Sponge Bob crab) and Shelby (for dolphin crab). When we got home I resolved that things would be different this time and started searching hermit crab care on the web. As I was doing this I realized that the last time they had hermit crabs I resolved that things would be different and searched hermit crab care on the web but still they died. I want PETA to get in on this! They need to stop the trade in hermit crabs! I know I’m an “enabler” but darn it couldn’t they at least make t-shirts and bumper stickers that say “How many crabs must die?” Well perhaps hermit crab care knowledge has improved in the last couple years. I highly recommend http://www.hermit-crabs.com/ We got the crabs situated in an aquarium with the proper humidity and temp. They seemed happy but we’ll see. We’ll see.
The night we got home Midnight Hour our fiercest alpaca mother had her cria at 9:45 over 3 weeks early. Andy who missed the beach trip just in case she did go early, went out to the barn and noticed a baby hanging out of her rear. (See he is observant). The baby, a lovely black girl is fine. Her father is our black stud Checkmate. We decided to name her “Caissa” after the goddess of chess. So this week we have 3 new family members, Caissa, Shelby and Vinnie. I’m thinking Caissa is the only one who will be with us for very long, but you never know.

How this whole thing started or why I sold a bunch of pharmaceutical stock and bought rather expensive livestock

We had a bad spring in 2002. My husband Andy hated his job at a large Midwestern university (okay it was Michigan) and pretty much they hated him. In contrast I loved my job at Michigan and loved the little suburban house we lived in on a small lake. We had our own little half acre in the shade of towering oaks and hickories. In the spring the woods around the house burst into ephemeral bloom with trillium and trout lilies. Later there would be wild geranium. It was like a dark enchanted fairy garden. Our two little girls Kenny and Helen were happy kids picking bouquets of violets and making fairy houses out of stones, sticks with little tables and acorn cap plates. But things changed, my mother who lived nearby died of an unexpected stroke. The dark was no longer enchanted, it was gloomy. Half an acre seemed too small for Andy who grew up on a large farm. I wanted to be in the sun and possibly grow tomatoes, beans, maybe some basil. The girls wanted more space for more animals, maybe a dog and someday horses.
Andy got a job offer at a University in New York and we were off house shopping. We wanted to be near the university, we wanted at least 5 acres, we wanted nice large bedrooms for the girls. The internet is an amazing thing, I started house shopping using those criteria and the computer coughed up a bunch of possibilities. I'm a sucker for real estate prose and my first hit was "an elegant dutch colonial" I had no clue what the heck a dutch colonial was but elegant sounded good and it had 20 acres and a bunch of bedrooms. We went to New York to look at that house and some others. The elegant dutch colonial already had an offer but we looked at it anyway it was more of a quirky dutch colonial than an elegant one, it had electric heat and strangely the panels were in the ceilings because as we all learned in elementary science heat does what, sink??!!! The “large horse barn and paddock” were so overgrown with autumn olive they were difficult to find especially the paddock. Best of all the house had a tiny door in one small bedroom that you had to limbo through and then you ended up being able to stand up in a giant sharply peaked closet, you proceeded through the back of the closet (about 20 feet) and then came out in… Narnia! No really you came out in another bedroom. This was the only way to get into that part of the house from the rest of the house. The kids loved it. They loved the creek that ran through the back of the property teaming with crayfish and salamanders and water bugs.
The next house, a former funeral parlor in the 1800's had a scary mysterious room in the basement with a giant padlock. The owner said we couldn't go in that room. Me being the kind of person who still has nightmares from watching poltergeist approximately a million years ago decided to pass on that one. The house after that had 5 acres on a nearly vertical cliff face but it did have a swan fixture in the powder room (you pulled on a wing and water came out the beak). It had a fireplace in the master suite you turned on with a remote control and Andy was so excited by that (on off on off) he missed the fact that over the fireplace was a large nude painting of the owner. He is still mad he missed that. The next house had 7 acres but most of it was temporarily under water. The next one was huge with an indoor pool but no closet doors anywhere. We are a family that needs closet doors! If you ever come to our house don't ever open a closet or you will be buried in the avalanche of junk that pours out. The doors are the only thing holding that in. We decided to send a back-up offer on the quirky dutch colonial. There had never actually been another offer and that house was ours.
We had 20 acres and Andy and I felt like we should use it somehow. We would clear the autumn olive we would put up fencing. The girls were against raising anything that might end up on the table even though they were voracious little carnivores. Kenny the eldest explained this as in Flinstone-like-fashion she munched on a large rack of ribs, "But I didn't know this pig personally mom!" Sometimes I have to agree with Ted Nugent if you are going to grill it maybe you ought to be okay with killing it. Still we decided to go with fiber animals, maybe some breed of sheep or goats. We started researching livestock and then we took a break and did a typical American thing, we went to the annual Dexter Memorial day parade. Cars full of candy throwing politicians zoomed by and all the local high school bands, fire engines lights blazing and an occasional burst of air piercing siren, girls scouts, boy scouts cub scouts brownies daisies and local dance troops, clowns, dogs in costume. The Dexter Memorial Day parade was kicking! And then along came something else, a local 4-H group leading llamas and what the heck are those smaller fuzzy llamas?? Alpacas maybe, are those alpacas? Wow they are little and cute. Really cute! Impossibly really cute! Back home to the internet!
Alpacas are really really cute and wow are they really really expensive. The sticker shock was amazing! I had to see these alpacas that cost like a zillion dollars each. My brother John, who was always up for a road trip, the kids and I hopped in the car and off we went to our first alpaca farm. The farm managers were fun and kind. They had five kids and every single one of them had flaming red hair. They caught one of the new babies (hey I leaned a new word, baby alpaca are called cria for creation). I touched her. How to describe this, she was soft, but it was the kind of soft you might feel if you could touch an angel's wing or if you had a whole bunch of dandelion fluff all together. She was like a cloud, like silk like the best stuffed toy Gund and Steif together ever made. I was hooked. This baby was not for sale (years later we tried to buy her in auction but she went for 38k, even at the start I had great taste). Now the problem, how to get Andy hooked?
Andy was emphatically against alpacas heck they were thousands of dollars and he said, "They looked like something Dr. Seus might have drawn for "One Fish Two Fish Red Fish Blue Fish!"
I said, Fine then, they are fuzzy they don't honk, lets take them home and watch them pronk!"
He said, "No! Are you insane? Buying one of those will be quite inane. On top of that, they cost thousands of dollars if you buy one I will holler!"
I finally talked him into going to an alpaca show. I signed him up for classes at the show. He attended talks. He was quickly captured by alpaca color genetics. I guess I have not mentioned yet but Andy is a geneticist. He studies ancient DNA from mummies, he studies modern DNA from all kinds of creatures. He studies mostly people but also whales, chimps, and had even done work on ancient camelid DNA (Alpacas are camelids by the way along with llamas, camels both dromedary and Bactrian and guanacos and vicunyas). He figured out pretty quickly that most alpaca breeders who knew a world about alpacas didn't know almost anything about genetics. Most color genetics has been figured out for things like bunnies, cats and horses. Things like homozygous and heterozygous are pretty clearly understood and things like dominant and recessive colors. The work on alpaca color genetics was in its infancy. Andy was hooked.
I was hooked the kids were hooked. We started with 12 and as I write this we have 45 alpacas (15 sheep, 3 horses, and 3 angora bunnies but that's another tale).