In Memorium

Nubin Nubin





  
ILR # 52383 (guanaco subregistry)
male  b.10-81; d.10-28-96
purebred guanaco, parents unknown

  
Nubin was to be our guanaco stud, but we never located one
  or more purebred females who were actually breeding quality.
  Nubin was 42.5" at the withers, and 260 pounds of very hard
  muscle. He died of liver failure due to a massive tumor.

  
Nubin was not handled at all for the first seven years of
  his life. Although gaining his trust was a long and difficult
  task, he completed basic training with marks as good as any llama,
  and could be handled and receive medical treatment in the pasture
  and without a lead. Although Nubin showed promise as a packer
  and over obstacles, we simply never seemed to find the time to
  advance his training further. We now regret that we didn't make
  the time.



Nubin liked apples, teasing Hawk, showing off his self-proclaimed
superiority, and pointing out where the fence is weak through
unauthorized explorations of the back portion of our property.
He was a unique individual, always very much alive, and we felt
his sudden loss keenly, and in many ways.






Nubin
Denali




  
ILR # 52382 (guanaco subregistry)
female  b. 1980; d. 11-4-96
purebred guanaco, parents unknown

  
Denali was best described as a family member. She was 42"
  at the withers, and felt pretty good at around 230 pounds. We
  had to euthanize her after an arthritic calcium deposit in her
  neck broke lose and left her with an uncorrectable dislocated
  cervical vertebrae, debilitating nerve damage, and a great deal
  of pain.

  
Denali was infertile, and found intolerable anything that
  required standing still. Her age, poor conformation, and some
  early rough handling all contributed to widespread arthritis,
  and eventually, to her untimely death.



Denali had a keen love of life, and so she received whatever
help we could give her, and all the time to herself that she wanted.
In spite of her severe physical limitations, mental unsuitability
for any traditional or nontraditional llama use, and the numerous
management difficulties she represented, Denali was a valued friend
and inspiration.



Denali liked sunbathing and gourmet food (honeydew melon was
her most recent favorite). We miss her terribly, and feel very
fortunate to have known her and shared in her life.




  

    
TIME IS .
    . .

    

      
. . . too
      slow for those who wait

      

        
. . . too
        swift for those who fear

        

          
. . . too
          long for those who grieve

          

            
. . . too
            short for those who love

        

      

    

  








Lost
Creek Three Fingered Jack




  
ILR # 116783
gelding  b.12-4-93; d.6-1-99
KL Silver Streak x Hyder Llamas Sahalie

  
Jack was a strong, athletic fellow set on proving that great
  things do so come in less-than-giant-sized packages. He finished
  at 44.5" at the withers, and weighed in the neighborhood
  of 265 lbs. Jack was gelded at 15 months when inherited behavioral
  problems (from his now-castrated father) began to kick in, and
  he soon became a really nice guy.

  
Jack moved to Montana in mid-1997 to begin his career as a
  packer. He really enjoyed his new pastures, where he could partake
  in many of his favorite activities: getting everyone's attention,
  springing around the pasture, and finding interesting animals,
  things, and human activities to watch. Unfortunately, a tragic,
  freak accident that occured while he was tethered on a too-long
  line at night left Jack permanently crippled, and his packing
  days were over.



In late May 1999, a black bear waltzed through the fence and
into the pasture where Jack was living. The bear quickly detected
Jack's weakened condition, promptly cut him out of the herd, and
ran him until he could no longer stand. Although Jack's humans
were finally able to get the bear to leave, they had no bear-proof
place to keep a vulnerable llama safe, so Jack returned here to
his birthhome two days later. We were devastated to find that
Jack had in fact sustained severe, irrepairable injuries to both
rear legs because of his crippled condition, and that he was in
steadily increasing pain. That he had walked at all again was
one last tribute to Jack's toughness, incredible stubbornness,
and will to survive. There was only one more thing we could do
for Jack, and that was to humanely end his suffering.



Jack was an athlete from the get-go, and as he matured, he
became a very personable llama. Words cannot express the devastation
we've felt -- twice -- at the waste of his body and the loss of
his life, nor can they express the helplessness we've felt at
our inability to protect our llamas once they leave us. We hope
that Jack's needless initial injury and the avoidable events that
led to his death can serve as lessons to prevent similar tragedies
for other llamas; they have certainly led to changes in the way
that we place our valued friends.




  
Three-Fingered Jack is the core of an extinct volcano just
  north of Santiam Pass in the Oregon Cascades and a favorite of
  climbers despite its crumbly composition. It has a distinctive
  profile, interesting bands of color, and is really spectacular
  when viewed up close from the PCT, which traverses the west side.
  Sahalie's sire is Hyder Llamas Apple Jack, so Jack's name was
  also a reference to him.






Waldo




  
ILR # 52377  [Cuzco NEø7]
gelding  b.10-11-78  d.9-27-99
Dr. Doolittle x Gisela

  
Waldo came to us -- free -- at the age of thirteen because
  his former owners had no use for an untrained, washed-up stud,
  and no one else wanted to pay money for him, either. We saw things
  differently, and Waldo became a permanent and much-loved resident.
  Waldo was 42.5" at the withers and felt his best at around
  265 pounds.

  
Waldo learned quite a bit in his time here, and had a well-deserved
  reputation for being a joy to handle and work with. He often
  helped out when a rookies -- human or llama -- needed to gain
  skills. He did llama public relations work, and was a welcome
  visitor at nursing homes. Waldo did quite well in performance
  classes at small local shows, but did not accompany us on the
  longer trips of our regular show circuit in deference to his
  increasing arthritis. Also because of his arthritis, we kept
  Waldo's packing work to light loads of 40 pounds or less and
  only occasional day outings.



Waldo had a host of medical problems -- liver damage with lingering
impaired function (including scurvy), arthritis, frequent bouts
of skin fungus, poor lung capacity, and unusually poor dentition
(even for his age). We made the painful choice to euthanize him
after he unexpectedly choked on his regular evening meal and we
were unable to unblock his esophagus before he developed aspiration
pneumonia. The necropsy revealed that Waldo had only 30% of his
lungs functioning and also that he had mild megaesophagus (although
he'd shown no symptoms of the latter), so the end was near for
him in any case.



Waldo enjoyed being "spiffed up," going to shows
and other events (with or without other llamas), pet therapy,
shopping at PetsMart, Mazuri llama pellets, and knowing that we
cared about him. We miss taking care of him, receiving his grateful
hugs, his many skills, and watching him bounce around proving
that "20 ain't old if you're a llama" very, very much.



° ° ° ° °




  
The story of Waldo and his training
  was first published as a column in The
  Backcountry Llama, and later as a book,
  "The
  Waldo Chronicles--A Training Log,"
  which is available from Lost
  Creek Llamaprints. Animal lovers of
  all ages tell us they have learned from Waldo and enjoyed his
  story as much as we have.

  
Because of Waldo's book, he grew
  to be one of our most public, well-known llamas. An email notice
  of his death resulted in message after message of sympathy and
  sadness - from northern Canada to New York, and from Montana
  to Texas.

  

    
-- We are deeply saddened to hear about
    dear sweet Waldo.
    
 
    
-- You made Waldo a part of many people's
    experience. Very sorry.
    
 
    
-- We'll miss him even though we never
    actually met him.
    
 
    
-- Thank you for sharing Waldo's story
    with us, and thank you for giving him a better life.
    
 
    
-- I am so sorry. That must have been
    absolutely horrible to go through. ... It is so hard to lose
    a member of the family.
    
 
    
-- He certainly was a special llama.
    Reflect on the happiness he brought you and all who met him.
    I'm so glad you wrote the book in his honor.
    
 
    
-- Waldo was very special to both of
    you and I am sure you will miss your daily visits with him. I
    am sure he gave you many happy days, and what you learned from
    having Waldo in your lives will benefit many other llamas.
    
 
    
-- We are so sorry this has happened.
    A loss of a special friend like Waldo is difficult.
    
 
    
-- I never met Waldo in person but
    knew him only through your book and stories ... I know the care
    you gave him and the love made his older years for all of you
    a special time. I cry with you.
    
 
    
-- My profound sympathies with your
    grief. How lucky you were to have him in your life, and how fortunate
    that you could provide a comfortable and dignified end for your
    dear friend. ... I almost lost [my horse] to choke on alfalfa
    pellets three years ago (given to help him keep his weight up
    during the winter). ... How easily we underestimate something
    as simple as eating.
    
 
    
-- Waldo will be remembered by all
    who met him.
    
 
    
-- So sorry to read of Waldo's untimely
    death. I think that we all held a special place for him in our
    hearts. His example has given me, for one, more patience to get
    to know my animals and understand their message to me rather
    than jumping to all-too-human conclusions about their behavior.
    I often think of him and the experiences in your book when I
    am working with my boys. Yes, I would even say that learning
    about Waldo was a breakthrough point in my understanding. ...
    Waldo will live on in our daily involvement with our llamas.
    
 
    
-- We are very sorry to hear about
    Waldo. He certainly was a lucky llama to have been a part of
    your herd. Your training and care certainly paid off. He was
    ultimately content and happy.
    
 
    
-- Sad news travels fast. So sorry
    about Waldo. It is sad to see them go but he had a good life
    with you two. I'm proud to say I had known Waldo.
    
 
    
-- Your grief is no doubt enormous
    and I am so very very sorry. ... How very blessed he was to be
    fortunate enough to come into your lives and be owned by two
    of the best llama people on earth.
    
 
    
-- I was saddened to hear of the loss
    of Waldo. You should take comfort in knowing that Waldo probably
    contributed more to llama understanding and training through
    your articles in The Waldo Chronicles featuring his life than
    any other publication on the subject, and for that he will always
    have a very special place in the lore of llama history.

    
  





° ° ° ° °



. . . those things
we love in life can be taken from us,



but our memories
of them cannot . . .






 



Lost Creek Ranger Logan




  
ILR # 147322
gelding  b. 12-8-95  d. 4-3-00
Ranger Dusty x Hyder Llamas Sahalie

  
Logan was Dusty's first son, and a truly wonderful soul. Logan
  was a frequent favorite of our farm visitors, and a very special
  friend of Gwen's, second only to his father (whom he also adored).

  
Logan's liver was damaged as a result of a tragic accident
  with a toxic plant when he was five months old. He missed an
  entire year of growth and only reached 42" at the withers
  and 175 pounds.

  
Logan was castrated because Gwen was not interested in having
  another stud as a friend (one is more than enough!) and Logan
  was not interested in coping with those hormone things anyway.
  And, of course, Logan's outward physical problems made it impossible
  to accurately evaluate his stud potential.

  
Logan did very well in his show training and was extremely
  excited when he graduated to the main show string in 1998 --
  for one thing, he hated being left at home. His favorite class
  was the Young Pack Class (in which the llama carries no weight).



Logan enjoyed "packing" with Gwen at a nearby state
park, where the trails were varied, but the terrain was fairly
easy -- and of course his load never had to exceed some water
and Gwen's boots. On April 3, 2000, Logan was having an exceptionally
good time on a hike with Gwen and their friend Anne when he suddenly
felt very weak and dizzy at a rest stop. He tried to continue
down the trail, but soon collapsed and died moments later of heart
failure. The necropsy revealed that his entire liver was severely
cirrhotic, and that his heart had finally been irrepairably damaged
as a result. It was a wonder that Logan had not only lived as
long as he had, but that he had managed to pursue so many of his
favorite activities.



Logan liked attention, snuggling with Gwen, going for dayhikes,
showing in performance classes, and generally doing "big
llama things." Logan was also fond of racing Gwen every day
to the gate and to the new barn (where he could eat his pellets
and grain away from the other llamas) and back to his own pasture
(after eating). He touched many people in his short life, and
his extraordinary intelligence, cheerfulness, charisma, and cooperative
nature greatly overshadowed his physical limitations. Logan was
always in a hurry to live life to its fullest, and he took special
pride in making Gwen smile . . . and that he had a real smile
of his own.



° ° ° ° °



"Live
as if you were to die tomorrow . . .




  
.
  . . learn as if you were to live forever" [Gandhi]

  

    

      

        

          

            
 

        

      

    

  








Lost Creek Ranger Soopaka




  
ILR # 168669
female  b. 12-18-96  d. 12-13-00
Ranger Dusty x Hyder Llamas Sahalie

  
Soo's specialty was rookie llama handlers, even from an early
  age. She was 44.5" and around 280 lbs.

  
Soo was one of those llamas who is "right up there with
  you" on the lead, an absolute "must" for any serious
  packer. She had a sound mind and a enviably perfect classic coat
  as well.

  
Soo died in a tragic accident in our barn. During the summer,
  Soo would nose under the feeder boards for hay scraps. She and
  the others never got more than their muzzles underneath, and
  when we started feeding hay twice daily when the pasture gave
  out, there was commonly a little hay left over in the feeder
  and we never saw them nosing under the boards again. We viewed
  Soo's behavior only as a part-time annoyance.

  
There was still hay in the feeder that Wednesday afternoon,
  but for some reason, Soo ignored what was readily available and
  instead managed somehow to tightly wedge her head under the feeder
  boards and choke herself. Mercifully, she died quickly, with
  her booty of hay still in her mouth.



Needless to say, had we anticipated potential for injury from
what we believed to be a 3" gap between the floor and the
boards (or if we had realized the gap had been enlarged to 5"
in some places), we would have done something about it right away.
You can bet that we blocked the gaps off that evening, but unfortunately,
our lesson came at the expense of Soo's life.



There are countless farms where llamas are kept in conditions
ranging from merely "traditionally recognized as unsafe"
to "downright junkheaps." Gwen has always been conscientious
(OK, downright anal) about gaps in fencing and structures (both
natural and man-made) that feet, legs, heads, or necks might become
trapped in or that might merely cause injury.



We now know that a gap of five inches at the bottoms of rigid
gates, fences, and the like IS a potential danger to an adult
llama -- particularly for those llamas who can't be satisfied
with what's on their own side -- and that a smaller gap can be
enlarged gradually to become dangerous (as happened here).



Please don't let another senseless tragedy happen -- check
your own farm for hazards, including gaps under any rigid objects
where llamas might be tempted to stick their noses.




  
"Soopaka" is from a combination of Chinook jargon
  and South American Quechua, and literally means "red hair."

  
Ranger Soo was named for Ranger Sue Baker, the USFS coordinator
  for our volunteer trail work crews. Like Ranger Sue, Soo was
  cheery and full of energy.






Orcas
Island Lummi




  
AR # 827229
gelding  b. 9-22-2000 . d. 2.1.2002
Posie's Comet x Tonasket

  
Lummi (yep, he was an alpaca) was part of our tiny fiber production
  and (larger) education crew. He had a superior fleece, beautiful
  blue eyes, perfectly good hearing, and a very endearing "hm"
  that was the icing on his charm. Lummi arrived here, squeaking
  hopefully at any human he glimpsed, in November 2001.

  
Lummi's mother died before he was weaned, so he was smaller
  than normal for his age, and we expected that he probably always
  would be small. We also were fully aware that the cause of his
  mother's death (thiaminase from an unknown source) might have
  adersely affected Lummi, either in utero or while he was nursing.

  
With his history in mind, we immediately started a diagnostic
  workup when Lummi seemed just a little bit "off" in
  early January. The result was that we promptly caught an aggressive
  cancer. However, promptness only aided later decisions -- there
  was no hope for a cure. Tumors soon restricted Lummi's esophagus,
  at first causing intermittant bloating, but shortly thereafter,
  Lummi choked severely. Given what we knew about Lummi's condition,
  the choice was clear -- prompt, merciful euthanasia.



Lummi liked our fresh green grass and other foodstuffs, although
he initially thought his new pasture might be TOO big (kinda like
his llama pasturemates ... ). Despite his confidence with our
"giant" (only to him!) llamas, he was really happy to
see Klickitat,
whom he immediately recognized as another alpaca -- a camelid
of the proper size and customs!




  
"Lummi," when pronounced "LUHM-ee,"
  is the name of a native tribe that still lives in northwest Washington
  state, not too far from Lummi's birthplace. Coincidentally, when
  pronouned "LOOM-ee," Lummi is the Finnish word for
  "snow," and Lummi certainly was snow-white! Lummi didn't
  care how people pronounced his name -- he knew it either way
  -- but we tended to use the Finnish pronunciation.






Andrew
Jackson




  
ILR # 72134
male  b. 9-22-84  d. 9-25-02
Gunther x Azalia

  
Andrew was probably 44" at the withers in his youth.
  He was massively overweight (by at least 100 pounds) for virtually
  all of his adult life, and his body paid the price dearly.

  
An acquaintance of ours bought Andrew for $30 at the Eugene
  Livestock Auction, where he was being bid on by slaughter buyers.
  Gwen was shocked to find that the mellow fellow who barely escaped
  the dog food can was none other than Andrew Jackson, whom we'd
  first met him in Central Oregon when he was five years old (and
  already much too fat). To make a long story short, Andrew came
  home to live with us; we enjoyed him for nearly two-and-a-half
  years.

  
Andrew's behavior, disposition, and coat type were outstanding.
  In fact, we had wanted very much to purchase a particular Andrew
  daughter years ago, but she was packaged with her pregnant mother
  and priced well out of our budget. Because Andrew had sired a
  number of superior working offspring with excellent traits, we
  used him for breeding on a limited basis. VERY limited: Andrew's
  severe arthritis meant that no matter how cooperative the female,
  he needed both of us for assistance to breed successfully.



Andrew enjoyed a quiet but interesting life in our backyard
with the open females pasture on one side and the "maternity
and nursery" pasture on another. Andrew also rather liked
his "friend" Dusty,
and Dusty liked him as well -- a very unusual relationship for
a couple of breeding studs!



In mid-May 2002, Andrew was tentatively diagnosed with an osteosarcoma,
a very aggressive bone cancer. In fact, the growth turned out
to be a peculiar arthritic growth, but Andrew's many other health
issues from a lifetime of neglect and obesity finally caught up
with him and he died of their cumulative effects shortly after
his eighteenth birthday. Although we spent thousands on his dental
care, repair of an acquired oronasal fistula, and special supplements
to ease his arthritis, we don't regret it one bit. It was a small
price to pay for getting to know a really neat fellow.




  
"Andrew Jackson" was, of course, a US President.
  Andrew Jackson's older brother was the late Hyder Llamas Apple
  Jack (sire of our Sahalie),
  and no doubt somebody thought it was funny to bestow a name with
  matching initials and with "Jack" as part of the moniker.
  We weren't thrilled with the name, but Andrew was used to it
  and didn't have any interest in a different one, so we just forced
  ourselves to get used to it.

  

    

      

        

          

      

    

  

  
Meet Andrew's offspring residing at Lost Creek Llamas:

  
2001 female -- Lost
  Creek Finys Mitchell

  
2003 female -- Lost
  Creek Misty

  
Some of Andrew's other offspring on the 'net:

  
1987 male -- Quito

  
1989 female -- RRL Molly Brown






 



Lost
Creek Ranger Taiga




  
ILR # 227402
female  b. 12-31-00  d. 6.13.03
Ranger Dusty x Snake River Morgan

  
[photo at 2 years]

  
Despite our yearly efforts to eradicate dog fennel (Anthemis
  cotula -- the plant that caused Logan's
  disability and, ultimately, his death) a small patch regrew during
  summer 2001 in Taiga's pasture. We noted it late one evening
  and, not expecting it to be eaten right away (llamas normally
  shun the caustic weed), we returned to the patch the following
  day ... one day too late: somebody had eaten the plants to the
  ground. When Taiga stopped gaining weight, we were sickened to
  realize that she must have been the one. Although Taiga's condition
  initially appeared much less severe than Logan's, she took a
  serious downturn in 2002. When she did not pick up again with
  the 2003 spring grass, we had to face the grim reality that Taiga
  was wasting away with no hope of recovery. We made a very difficult
  choice to euthanize her before her disabilities caused her any
  serious distress.



From birth, we could see that Taiga was definitely a "keeper"
in our breeding program, a classic llama of the highest caliber.
A still photo couldn't come anywhere close to conveying her exquisitely
balanced biomechanical traits and the resulting poetry in motion,
and we fully expected Taiga to excel in harness and on the trail.
It is impossible to convey the shock and grief we've experienced
in Taiga's misfortune and untimely demise.




  
"Taiga" is the type of northern forest that takes
  over where the tundra leaves off -- not a place for the timid.
  Fittingly, Taiga was tough and anything but timid. Unfortunately,
  like the taiga forest, she also ended up stunted.






Snowfall




  
ILR # 71412
infertile female  b.9.18.85  d. 10.12.03
Andy x Snowflake

  
Snowy came to us as a rehab case, and she
  ended up clearly trusting Gwen above all others despite initially
  despising all women. She was 44.25" at the withers and weighed
  abut 315 pounds when not overfed.

  
Snowy had an extremely difficult life as
  a pawn of human investment. She was first removed from her mother
  and hand-raised to make her "more friendly." Instead,
  she was deprived of proper interllama socialization and never
  had a true mother. She struggled her entire life to overcome
  deeply ingrained habits and fears that resulted from this profit-driven
  mistake, although we continued to see slow improvement, and (the
  really important part) our visitors tended to remark how happy
  she seemed in her later years.



We did not accept Snowy with any intention
of breeding her -- we agreed to take her because no one else wanted
her and she obviously needed help. However, after we became much
more familiar with her and realized the depth of her outstanding
traits, we accepted Snowy into our breeding program on probation
after the essential portions of her rehab were complete (something
she was perfectly happy with). Unfortunately, Snowy was infertile
due to reproductive tract scarring -- a not uncommon result of
immature impregnation and constant pregnancy in llamas. We were
quite sorry to have lost Snowy's potential contribution to our
very selective gene pool and to the greater classic llama gene
pool as well.



Snowy loved apples and grain, and alfalfa,
all of which she finally learned to eat politely from familiar
humans. She was also very appreciative that we'd given her glucosamine
sulfate and MSM (despite the expense) because it allowed her to
run again -- and run and dance and leap she did when her personal
supplement portion was on its way!



Snowy was absolutely fascinated by construction
and would watch building projects for hours on end. She especially
liked spending time in the new barn she watched us build. We joked
that we should have put a television in there so she could watch
"This Old House."



Snowy's past and her initial rehabilitation progress were not fast nor enjoyable for anyone, and in
the end, we sadly agreed that her unexpected, peaceful death in
the pasture was a kind release from tortures we never could have
erased, even though her last seven years were clearly better (according
to Snowy) than all those that had come before. Despite knowing
that Snowy is finally at peace, we also feel a great loss. We
especially miss her demonstrations of of unabashed joy at feeding
time each day.









Hyder
Llamas Sahalie




  
ILR # 73465
female  b. 8-21-89 d. 2-22-05
Hyder Llamas Apple Jack x Taffy

  
Sahalie was our first female llama, and
  she was in charge of the female herd. She was 44.25" at
  the withers, and averaged 290 pounds. Sahalie had a particular
  affinity for Jim, perhaps because she and Gwen were too much
  alike.

  
Despite her classic coat, Sahalie placed
  Grand Champion Light Wool or Light/Medium Wool Female four times
  at halter. She also won several ALSA pack and driving classes.
  During the 1995 show season, Sahalie finally fessed up that she
  did not like fairs (where there's a lot of commotion and everybody
  stares at her like she's some kind of dumb thing), and that she
  no longer wanted any part of those performance classes in which
  the object is to scare llamas -- and that's increasingly become
  the norm -- so she no longer attended shows after that point.
  That was soon no problem, because we no longer went to llama
  shows either!



Sahalie really enjoyed driving and packing,
and much prefered these activities to raising babies. Her breeding
schedule was structured so that she could enjoy her favorite activities
all summer without the responsibility of nursing or the burden
of late pregnancy. And, as with all our females, Sahalie got periodic
year-long vacations from producing offspring. When we produced
a mature daughter (Olallie)
who was an improvement, Sahalie was retired from breeding -- a
notion she didn't have any problem with. This turned out to be
a fortuitous decision. To make a long and complicated story very
short, it appears that Sahalie's rear leg conformation was more
than the superficial assessment, "less powerful than ideal"
-- it hid another, much more serious weakness (a predisposition
to patellar laxity) that emerged in Jack,
Olallie,
and Kilchis
(the three are sired by two different studs). So all of Sahalie's
descendants are neutered or retired from breeding now, too.



Sahalie was Jim's first female packer at
a time when the mere suggestion of female llamas as anything but
untrained walking incubators was a big taboo. You can read about
the myths they debunked and what they learned in "My
New Packing Buddy," which originally appeared in The Backcountry Llama.



Jim found Sahalie dead in the pasture one
evening; she had been bouncing around with him that morning. The
necropsy revealed that she died of peritonitis, but the cause
was inconclusive; because Sahalie's liver iron content was outrageously
high, we speculate that she may have managed to find and swallow
a nail or other metal item that eventually punctured her digestive
tract which then healed, but not before bacteria that is normally
found only in saliva and the gut escaped into the surrounding
peritoneum.



Regardless of why Sahalie died, her absence
was a stunning blow to us, especially Jim. There are no words
to describe the loss of a long-term llama friend who did so much.




  

    

      

        

    

  





"Sahalie" means "higher"
or "upper" in the Chinook language. Sahalie took that
to mean her position as head female in our herd was justified.




  
Meet Sahalie's offspring:

  
1993 gelding -- Lost
  Creek Three Fingered Jack (deceased)

  
1994 female -- Lost
  Creek Ranger Olallie

  . . . . . . Olallie's offspring:
  2001 gelding -- Lost
  Creek Ranger Skaikeek

  
1995 gelding -- Lost
  Creek Ranger Logan (deceased)

  
1996 female -- Lost
  Creek Ranger Soopaka (deceased)

  
1998 gelding -- Lost
  Creek Ranger Kilchis






Billllama




  
ILR # 57097
gelding   b. 3.?.79 d. 8.8.05
Oak Hill Clyde x Buella of Chehalem Valley

  
 

  
Billllama was our first llama rescue and
  rehabilitation case, and felt safest with Gwen. He was 45.5"
  at the withers and declined through the years from his original
  325 pounds to 300 pounds for a few years and finally to less
  than 250lbs. We finally euthanized him due to his declining health
  and complications (getting stuck in various places in the pasture)
  at age 26. Necropsy reports showed Bill was in congestive heart
  failure with fluid accumulating in his lungs and loss of muscle
  mass, as would be expected. However, his teeth were in remarkably
  good condition for his age, likely in part because we did take
  him in for cutting-edge dental work twice.

  
Bill's abuse included being forced to work
  hauling tree seedlings daily during the winter months with a
  very painful, ill-fitting pack saddle, and he was beaten and
  kicked for his frequent protests against his pain. After work,
  his pasturemates raped him and kept him from food and shelter.
  Two stories of Bill's
  past and his rehabilitation were published in The
  Backcountry Llama Newsletter.



It took time and patience, but Bill did
learn to trust us. Until 1997, when a pasture injury to one front
pastern (and subsequent stress on the other) forced his retirement,
he was the top choice for a responsible "caboose" in
any packing string. He was able to conquer his fear, with our
support, and to return to working in a string with Ranger
Dusty on volunteer Forest Service work crews, an environment
similar in many ways to the one in which he was abused.



Bill liked watching pasture conflicts, making
unauthorized explorations for delicacies, and otherwise being
left to his own devices. He left us with not only memories, but
many lessons.









Poppy Too




  
ILR # 52930
female  b. 9-28-84  d. 5-15-06
Jimmy Doolittle x Iris
  

  
Poppy wouldn't give humans the time of
  day ... except for Gwen, whom she thought was very special. Gwen
  was equally smitten with Poppy, and spent many long hours gaining
  her trust.

  
We felt terrible for Poppy when we first
  saw her -- tired, thin, and definitely not likely to make it
  through another winter without special care. Concerned (as we
  would be for any llama in that condition) but also feeling a
  special connection to her, we figured out a way to shoehorn her
  into our system and convinced her absentee owner to let us take
  her, expecting a significant impact to our budget and time in
  return.



What we didn't realize was that Poppy really
only needed proper deworming (once a year is NOT enough!), proper
nutrition, and a fair shot at the chow line. (Glucosamine and
MSM benefitted her, too). Poppy did very well here for quite some
time, but eventually, old liver damage from previous parasitism
caught up with her.



Poppy had particularly nice bone, skeletal
structure, and classic coat characteristics. She would have made
a fine packer when younger, and her love of exploration indicated
she would have enjoyed that very much. Although we originally
had absolutely NO intention of breeding Poppy, once her health
returned, we came to realize that she could easily handle a pregnancy.
We would have loved to have one or two cria from any llama as
good as Poppy, but it turned out her cervix was scarred shut --
a common result for any female kept with one or more geldings.
It was extremely fortunate Poppy didn't also acquire a life-threatening
infection from the gelding(s) that permanently damaged her reproductive
tract, but it is tragic that a genetic package so good was completely
lost.



Besides exploring and being told she had
the best coat on the planet, Poppy loved Gwen, playing in the
sprinklers, and those nightly special dinners that included apple
pieces for dessert ... not necessarily in that order!









Lost Creek Ranger Apikuni




  
ILR # 201956
gelding  b. 12-11-98 d. 5-17-07
Ranger Dusty x Spokane River Kokanee

  
Apikuni was Kokanee's only offspring and
  a very colorful fellow. Besides all his spots, he had a beautiful
  set of dark blue eyes (and no, he is most definitely NOT deaf!).

  
Kokanee's milking ability proved to be
  marginal, so Apikuni fell substantially behind in his growth.
  Although his growth accelerated to normal after he started eating
  grass and hay, the damage was already done -- Apikuni was a mere
  41.5".



Apikuni was conceived just days before his
mother's sire, Hidden Valley Silverhawk, proved to be a choanal
atresia producer. Apikuni's possible carrier status made it
inappropriate (not to mention unethical) to consider keeping him
intact. His mother's milking performance (or rather lack thereof)
alone made him a definite nonbreeder. And as if that was not enough,
we discovered Apikuni was also heat intolerant, even more so than
his mother Kokanee, and had to be
body-shorn -- certainly not suitable pack breeding stock. Thus,
there was no question: Apikuni became a happy gelding at the age
of15 months!



Apikuni really fell for our farm sitter,
Anne (and vice-versa), so we decided to make their "marraige"
official. Apikuni was staying with us until Anne's new place was
finished being set up, and Apikuni eagerly awaited living with
Anne. He was especially looking forward to HIS new barn. Despite
all of Apikuni's physical and genetic drawbacks, he was a super
fellow in many respects, and we were very glad he would be a mere
three miles away and always available for visits ... but ... while
everyone was busy making plans, life got in the way.



In March of 2007, Apikuni developed a urinary
stone that lodged in his urethra. It took over a week after his
initial emergency exploratory surgery (that also placed a temporary
bladder drain) for the stone to be located and removed during
a second surgery. Because of the urethral damage done over that
time, it was necessary for Apikuni to have another way to empty
his bladder, and a third surgery giving him a high urethrostomy
was performed. Everything was looking great and Apikuni came home
to recuperate, excited to be back in familiar surroundings and
out of that "nasty" concrete stall at OSU. Unfortunately,
the odds caught up with him. The next week Apikuni didn't feel
right and he was rushed up to OSU again. A rare post-surgical
infection had set in, damaging his bone marrow. After several
weeks Apikuni was beating that one, too, when he developed a highly
drug-resistant pneumonia. Several days later, even Apikuni finally
had to admit that it had all become too much for him, and so he
was humanely euthanized.



Apikuni enjoyed feeding time, being the
responsible one in charge of the pasture, having emotionally stable
friends and family, and especially observing as much as possible.
He gained many new human friends and admirers at OSU in his last
two months, and he appreciated their help very much.



You can see more of Apikuni on our cria
photo page




  

    

      

  

  
"Apikuni" is a Blackfoot word
  meaning "spotted robe"; it has no linguistic relationship
  to the word "appaloosa" even though everyone assumes
  that when they hear it. Although the name is appropriate, Apikuni
  kinda wished people would try to see him for himself instead
  of getting distracted by all his spots.

  

    

      

        
"The aim
        of life is to live,

        and to live means to be aware --

        joyously, drunkenly,

        serenely, divinely

        aware."

    

  








Return to our llama
family



Return to Lost
Creek Llamas home page