Chapter Ten:
In a Hot Barn
[Page 2]
We tried again to put the little guy under Posey. She thrashed
around with displeasure at being handled, making it impossible for
the baby to get to her. So we walked her up to our llama chute,
where she couldn't mill around so much.
Once there, Posey did stop thrashing around. She sat down. When
Kelly reached for her teats, she jumped up rapidly. While I held
the flashlight, Kelly got some colostrum out of her and into the
baby, using the bottle. It didn't seem like much.
We set the alarm for two in the morning, and Kelly checked the
llamas. The little guy looked fine, sitting by Posey. When the alarm
rang again at six, I went out, exhausted from a night of restless
sleep. The baby and Posey were sitting. The baby got up, his little
mouth began working, and he tried to nurse from Posey's shoulder.
Then he tried the barn. Posey got up, and he tried to nurse from
her tail. He walked past her teats as if they weren't there. I milked
Posey just a little, so the smell of milk would be strongest around
her udder. The baby kept trying to nurse the barn.
Kelly went out early for his daily run, as it looked like it was
going to be a hot day. Then he settled down to read in the barn.
I took a group of ten lively retired women on a morning llama hike,
glad to get away from the uncertainty in the barn. I enjoyed the
distraction, and the women were a particularly interesting group.
But part of my mind was worrying nonstop.
"Nothing's happened yet,'' Kelly reported at noon.
"Did you try anything?''
"No, I thought they'd do best on their own.'' He had been
staying in the part of the barn where we stored hay.
Now I didn't mind that the little llama was a male. His life was
so precious to me already, after less than twenty-four hours of
being acquainted with him. My caring about him was just for the
sweetness of his little self. I was glad that money didn't enter
into it, as it probably would have with a female.
"I really think we ought to do something,'' I insisted. "Shall
we have another try at milking Posey and feeding the baby?''
"I don't want to have a bottle-fed baby if we can avoid it,''
he said.
"I don't want to have a dead baby if we can avoid it,'' I
countered.
This time Posey was very good about being milked out, and the baby
sucked eagerly on the bottle. We got about ten ounces into him during
the long, hot afternoon. I thought he was less lively than the day
before, but Kelly thought he was fine.
"It figures,'' I snapped at him. "You always think everything's
fine.''
"That's better than worrying about everything,'' he snarled
back.
Our veterinarian advised that we do nothing for a while, on the
theory that if Posey was full of milk and the baby was hungry, they
would be more likely to find each other. Kelly thought this was
a good plan. I didn't. I wanted to intervene, but I did agree that
it would be good if we could avoid having a bottle-fed baby.
|
