Last time I promised to tell you about alpacas spitting. Generally, if they have anything to say, they just hum. Some say that’s because they don’t know the words.
This picture shows Chloe giving the warning signal that a spit is on its way, and Champagne giving it back. When Chloe puts her head up in spitting prep and her ears flat against her neck, she’s telling Champagne she better back off or there’s going to be trouble. She growls at the same time she raises her head. Now, she won’t spit at me, but her spit can fly ten feet. Therefore, an intelligent, focused human will back away that distance.
However, there’ve been times when my back was turned, I missed the growl, and I got the wet green regurgitation all over me. Alpacas have three stomachs, so the smell of this stuff isn’t Chanel #5. In Alaska, if you’ve seen the ice break up and go out to sea on the Yukon, you’re called a sourdough. I guess since I’ve worn alpaca spit, I’m an alpaca sourdough.
Just to make sure you don’t swear off the sweet deer/teddy bear cross of an alpaca, up against spitting are:
- Elegant, peaceful, calming movement
- Warm soft fleece with multiple uses
- Sweet pasture buddies
- Gentle humming
- Gorgeous eyes
- Poop that makes the best natural fertilizer around
One day,, I believe alpacas will make their way into one of my novels. In the meantime, they cush in my field.