Taking Pictures of Alpacas

We're taking Del to an alpaca show at the Oregon State Fair on Friday. Since Del is for sale, we thought we'd make up a little flyer about him and take our sales list with us. Making the flyer started with taking pictures. To take the pictures, we decided to put Del on a lead and lead him around the property. Pam would lead. I would take pictures. It all sounded so easy.

I believe I have mentioned in previous posts that my digital camera is almost an antique. I think it's close to ten years old at this point. It works, but it doesn't have all the fancy features or a zoom.

We put Del on a lead and I started trying to take pictures. Every time Del got a good pose, I would push the shutter, Del would move, and the picture would be taken -- in that order.



The results were something like the picture above in which Del has a fairly good pose, but he's not looking at the camera.



Other times, we would have the picture framed just right, but Del or Pam would turn and we'd end up with a Del in front of Pam.



And then we thought this shrub -- it's an Oregon Grape -- would make a nice backdrop until we looked at the picture and realized the folly in taking pictures of a black alpaca against a dark green bush.



And this is a pretty good picture, but wait, is that a hand under Del's chin?



When an alpaca gets tired of posing for the camera, you have to talk nice to him.



We did, however, get this picture of Del. He's a good looking alpaca.

Hidden Value in an Alpaca

We did toenails on two of our alpacas yesterday. What a difference in the process.

To trim the toenails on the first alpaca, we herded the alpaca into the catch pen, put a halter on, put a lead on the halter, and lead the alpaca to our chute. Once we arrived at the chute, we led the alpaca into the chute, closed the neck bars, and tied the alpaca into the chute. Some farms routinely use a chute for all alpaca chores. We like to avoid using the chute.

Once the alpaca was in the chute, I attempted to lift a rear leg to trim the nails. This prompted the alpaca to spit out a huge gout of nasty green rumen juice which Pam failed to dodge. Then the alpaca cushed (lay down) and tucked all four feet underneath. When I attempted to reach underneath to extract a foot, the alpaca would lean toward that foot burying it deeper underneath. If I tried a different foot at that point, the alpaca would stand up. Eventually, I was able to trim all four feet.

The process took two humans, a chute, and a fair amount of effort. After the process, we still had to lead the now unhappy and somewhat uncooperative alpaca back to the pasture and wash Pam's clothes.

Contrast this with how we clipped Georgia's back toenails yesterday. (We did her front feet last week so only the back ones needed trimming.) Sometime mid-afternoon, Georgia decided to stretch out on her side in the pasture to nap in the sun. Pam went to the shed, got the clippers, walked over to Georgia, knelt by Georgia's back feet, and clipped Georgia's nails. When Georgia looked up to see what was going on, Pam simply spoke quietly to her and Georgia put her head back down. When she was finished clipping, Georgia rolled into a cushed position and nibbled on Pam's cheek.

It was that easy. I wasn't in the pasture. Nobody held Georgia. Nobody was spat upon. No halter was necessary. In fact, Georgia's nap was only slightly disturbed.

An alpaca's value cannot be judged just by fleece or in the show ring. This is the same Georgia who reliably gets pregnant on the first breeding, always has enough milk for her cria, doesn't start manure piles in the shed, and generally does a thousand other little things that make our lives much easier.

Georgia has nice fleece, but it's the little things that give her so much hidden value to us.

To Answer Your Question ...

IndigoMuse Wrote:

I always wondered what happened to alpacas when it got hot. What do they do in the wild if some kind soul isn't there to hose them down?

Essentially, alpacas are a domestic species. They are native to high elevations in the Andes Mountains and are found in Peru, Bolivia and Chile. While a great many alpacas did go feral at the time of the Spanish conquest, they are, and have been, a domestic species for several thousand years.

There are four species of camelid found in South America. The alpaca and llama are domestic. The vicuna and guanaco are wild. The alpaca is believed descended (domesticated) from the vicuna and the llama from the guanaco. DNA studies show a lot of interbreeding between the llama the alpaca. It is an interesting -- and open -- question when this interbreeding occurred. One theory is that the interbreeding occurred primarily during the immediate post-conquest era when a great many llamas and alpacas became feral. Another theory says this interbreeding happened throughout domestication. There are interesting and intriguing claims based on the quality of fiber found in fossil textiles that suggest the fiber quality of alpacas declined at the time of the conquest. I'm not sure I buy these claims -- I can certainly make what I think are good counter-arguments and I'm not convinced the authors have adequately disproved some of the obvious alternate hypothesis. It's an interesting question.

But I begin to digress.

Our original question is what happens to alpacas when it gets hot in their native habitat.

The honest answer is that I don't know. Alpacas are high altitude animals and I'm not sure it gets hot at altitude. I assume the alpaca ranchers and herders take care of the herd if necessary in hot weather, possibly by moving the herd to pastures higher up the mountain. Really, though, I don't know.

I was going to write that vicunas had a double coat and shed their undercoat, but then I remembered that some villages round up the vicunas and shear them every other year. The reason given for only rounding up the vicunas every other year is that the fiber grows slowly and it isn't long enough to have value after only one year. Shedding is typically an annual event, so something doesn't make sense here.

I guess I don't know how vicunas deal with the heat, either.

So, IndigoMuse, to answer your question, I haven't got a clue!

Still Hot. Still Tired.

I think we're well into the summer doldrums here -- hot, tired and cranky -- two legged and four. I'm finding little energy left over from my day job to do anything but scoop poop from the pastures when I get home. The alpacas seem content to sit in the shade and munch hay. Even the grass has quit growing except where irrigated.

As an aside, wildfire danger here is pretty high at the moment. I was out with the dog after 9:30 PM last night and the dry grass was still crunchy -- no dew at all. Our wet, late, spring was great for growing grass and brush, but all those small fuels are now tinder-dry.

The alpacas don't like the heat. They have grown enough fiber since shearing that they are starting to get hot again. We keep sprinklers running in the pastures most days -- primarily to do what irrigation we can -- but also so the alpacas can cool off in the sprinklers if they want to. We also hose the alpacas down with cool water a couple times per day. Some of them love the water and will come running when the hose is turned on. We're checking regularly for heat stress and any alpaca that shows heat stress gets hosed down.

And I say we -- Pam is doing most of the heat-of-the-day animal care since I'm usually at work. If only there were somebody to hose me down when I showed heat stress on the job …

With all this hot weather, I've done little with fiber. Heat is really a disincentive for working with alpaca fiber.

Thanks to IndigoMuse and Jenifleur for the comments.

Hot & Tired

Thanks for all the sock suggestions and encouragement. They are much appreciated.

I feel bad posting a request for input, then posting nothing for a week. My apologies. It has been hot here -- several 100 degree days in a row -- and I'm working a somewhat physical job outside in the warmest part of the day. I just haven't had the energy to think, write, or post when I get home.

I have read your comments and I appreciate them. I have read the sock tutorial and I find it interesting. I even managed to ply a couple ounces yesterday. I'm not ignoring the blog, but I'll post more when I've got enough brain to write something worth while.

Thanks for your patience.

What makes a good sock yarn?

I'm not -- yet -- a sock knitter. Socks are one of my knitting aspirations -- knitted lace is another -- but I am not yet sufficiently skilled to try handling a needle with two points. I can manage garter stitch without dropping more than 10% of my stitches and I can mangle stockinette with the best of them.

Being unable to knit a sock doesn't stop me from wondering about sock yarns. Hence the title of today's blog: What makes a good sock yarn?

I know socks don't need to be as soft as other clothing. I have a lot of seconds and thirds in the stash as well as some lower quality blankets I've been avoiding. I know sock yarn doesn't have to be soft, but I wonder how strong the fiber in the yarn can be. (Strong is a fiber industry euphamism for coarse.) Can I use strong fiber in socks? What about extra strong? What about guard hair?

And even though many people enjoy socks that aren't as soft as say, shawls, is there a market for soft sock yarn?

I know sock yarn needs to be fairly fine, but what weight should it be?

How springy does it need to be?

What colors do people like? I know many knitters like really bright and funky colors for their hand-knit socks. Unfortunately, a lot of my stash is naturally colored alpaca which is gorgeous, but pretty dark to take dye well. My thought has been to make some of my HeatherSelect(tm) blends in sock yarn. Would those colors sell?

I also have a lot of black fiber. Basic black dress socks are always handy. Do folks hand-knit socks in black?

What about the way the yarn is spun? I know some spinners overtwist their sock yarn to make the socks wear better. Is this important? Alpaca supposedly wears better than wool. Do I still need to overtwist the yarn?

Any and all input is welcome. I want to make some really wonderful alpaca sock yarn and I admit to being absolutely clueless.

Oh, and that knitted lace? One generous soul at BSG said I was probably ten years away. I can make lacey crocheted garments, but I think alpaca fiber rewards knitted lace techniques more than crochet because crochet tends to put a lot of bulk in some places.

I'd like to continue to thank readers for links and feedback. Today's particular thakns go out to Purl, Interrupted and Spin That Yak for recent mentions in their respective blogs. Input from the rest of our readers is much appreciated and I'd really like to learn more about what makes a really good sock yarn.