Go? Wait? Evacuate? And Life with Mannerless Alpacas
Living up here for over 33 years and having livestock for the last 21 years, we’re no strangers to fire danger and the potential for evacuation. We’ve been on pre-evacuation status many times, but never felt the potential danger close enough to evacuate the alpacas until the recent Quarry Fire. But first, let’s set the stage.
We had good friends visiting from out of state and staying with us for a week. We’d planned a dinner party for 12 one evening with close friends our company knew as well, and the fire had started just the day before. It was growing quickly, but we weren’t yet in the pre-evac zone. Other than a friend from down the hill, the rest of us are all in the same area, so we were watching it closely and staying in communication. We decided to keep the dinner plan together and tried not to draw comparisons to Nero fiddling while Rome burned. Dinner was wonderful (I will say the short ribs were freakin’ awesome), great conversation and lots of laughs. We’d just finished dinner around 8:30 and were discussing dessert (Down-the-Hill Friend brought 3 pies, just one of the reasons we encourage her to drive up here often), when everyone’s phone went off with the official pre-evac notice. I confess, we did all go ahead with the pie eating portion of the evening while discussing the options. It’s a big decision and a big deal to evacuate 15 alpacas – between the transport process itself plus them being cooped up in stalls until it’s safe to bring them home, it’s a very big stress on them (and us). But, in an abundance of caution and a better-safe-than-sorry approach, we decided to load up and take them down to the evacuation facility at the Jeffco Fairgrounds.
We don’t have to transport the alpacas often. Normally, it’s only one or two when we do. And I’ve been known to just shove them in the back of an SUV if a short trip was required – they fold quite nicely. Even early on when we would show them, we never took more than a couple, maybe 4 max. So the plan to move all 15 at once evolved into the 5 boys could go into our smaller horse trailer and the 10 girls could go into our good friends and neighbors’ larger horse trailer, and we could then caravan down in one trip. Seemed like a very fine plan that should go smoothly. (We have truly, truly awesome friends next door, but I think also the short ribs and pie were good timing to ask a huge favor.) The Visiting Friends, having had their own alpaca farm, pitched right in as well, so while folks went up to get the trailers and trucks ready to load I went into the barn to start haltering.
It turns out if you walk into a dark barn at 10 o’clock at night, turn on the lights and start haltering everyone, alpacas immediately sense that something shady is up and it doesn’t bode well. As a species, they are more often than not convinced that everything out there wants to eat them, so can go from calm to Holy Crap How Do I Get Out of Here in about 6 seconds flat. This brings us to the kicking, spitting and cursing portion of our evening. While the girls are just tense and are very good at dodging you (even in a contained area), the boys are just flat out jerks.
On the boys’ side, I had haltered Cody first, he was the handiest, but he is also the Jekyll/Hyde of the farm. He’ll lull you into a false sense of security with a nuzzle, even a smooch, and then promptly dip down and bite you in the calf. Or the back of the arm. Wherever he senses weakness. Once he’s haltered, he then feels it’s his sworn responsibility to warn the others of what’s to come, if by warn you mean bite them in the rear end while you’re trying to halter them. This is where the hollering and spitting starts. Green, wet, gross, smelly, chewed up grass spit. And they don’t care who gets caught in the cross fire. Which explains why I was wearing more than a little green taking them out to load them in the trailer. They’re also not fans of being in a trailer, so the strategy is to lead them in there, close the doors, and then remove the leads so they don’t strangle themselves or each other on the ride. Given their heightened state of absolute jerk-ness, the continued kicking, biting, hollering and spitting, this was not the lovely and bucolic process one would hope for. No, it was more like an MMA cage match. I eventually worked my way out, covered with even more spit and a hefty bruise or three on the lower extremities. After that, the 10 girls into the other trailer felt like a breeze. There was also less swearing and threats of turning them into sausage if they didn’t get off me.
The rest of the story goes quite well. The volunteers with the Jefferson County Horse Council, who run the whole evac system and process, are truly beyond amazing. They care for your animals like they’re their own, they are supremely organized and efficient, and they handled over 300 animals for the Quarry Fire including horses, cattle, llamas, alpacas, pigs, piglet, chickens, ducks, goats, livestock guardian dogs, and a half-crazed Guinea Hen. They called our area the Party Barn and they all fell in love with our alpacas (who settled right down once they were in stalls and getting fed). Cody even had a stint on 9News and behaved like a gentleman with the reporter. We went down to feed every day, but it would have been ok if we didn’t since they fed, watered and mucked twice a day. And, if you need help transporting during an evacuation, they’ll do that as well. It’s an incredible service they provide to the community and those affected by wildfire. Side note, they do not charge evacuees for this service and they operate solely on donations. So, if you feel a need to throw a little cash their way, it is so appreciated and will be put to good use. Just to make it easy, here’s their website: https://www.jeffcohorse.com
Last note, in addition to the evac volunteers, we all give a huge thank you to the firefighters up here in the foothills. The Quarry Fire was fast growing and in super steep and difficult terrain (Rattlesnake Gulch is named that for a reason). It could have quickly reached Aspen Park and Conifer in a blink or gone the other way into heavily populated Ken Caryl, so we are eternally grateful. Thank you from the bottom of our hearts.