Vale Nutmeg
The oldest of my alpacas, Nutmeg, died in the night.
She was born in Chile and was one of the foundation animals for the current Australian herd. According to her papers she was 22, but she may have been several years older, since apparently the ages of many of the first alpacas imported were understated. She was given to me in 2007 when her then owners moved to Tasmania.
She was a gentle, quiet alpaca towards people but the dominant animal in my herd, despite being the smallest of the alpacas and less than half the weight of the llamas. She could tell any of the others to get away from her food with a look and never had to escalate things to the spitting stage. I'd been trying to get a photo of her doing this to Zareena the llama, since the difference in their sizes was comical, and am sorry I've lost my chance. I often wondered how much of her dominance was some sort of age-based seniority or behaviour learned over time, and how much individual personality, but it certainly wasn't physical, since towards the end she was not just small but quite frail. I hadn't seen her move faster than a walk for a long time, but she could still climb into the water trough if she wanted to cool off. While watching her I often used to think that she really seemed to know how to live: you just eat, sit in the sun and take things like shearing as they come.
Picture from winter 2007
She was born in Chile and was one of the foundation animals for the current Australian herd. According to her papers she was 22, but she may have been several years older, since apparently the ages of many of the first alpacas imported were understated. She was given to me in 2007 when her then owners moved to Tasmania.
She was a gentle, quiet alpaca towards people but the dominant animal in my herd, despite being the smallest of the alpacas and less than half the weight of the llamas. She could tell any of the others to get away from her food with a look and never had to escalate things to the spitting stage. I'd been trying to get a photo of her doing this to Zareena the llama, since the difference in their sizes was comical, and am sorry I've lost my chance. I often wondered how much of her dominance was some sort of age-based seniority or behaviour learned over time, and how much individual personality, but it certainly wasn't physical, since towards the end she was not just small but quite frail. I hadn't seen her move faster than a walk for a long time, but she could still climb into the water trough if she wanted to cool off. While watching her I often used to think that she really seemed to know how to live: you just eat, sit in the sun and take things like shearing as they come.
Picture from winter 2007