Death-Ray Llamas from Hell

To paraphrase Trixie (who is dog) Koontz: "Do not ha-ha-ha at llama who has COME TO KILL US ALL. Hide in truck, hope for survival."

I went out to the Valley today, and while there I had a long walk with Becky as we used to do with the dogs several times a week, and I did with my own dogs daily. She had kennel dogs to walk but decided not to bring them as they were new and she didn't know if they'd have an issue
with Hunter. That turned out to be a very important choice.

We adjusted our route a little to avoid the salmon stream, which is a grizzly snack bar right now. We'd gone a few miles and had turned back for home when one of Becky's fellow nurses from work, who lives nearby, pulled up and asked if we knew who kept llamas about, because there were two loose ones about 3/4 mile down the road on which we were returning. She'd already called Animal Control. She went down there and as we continued to walk, we saw them hanging out in the road by her car, saw two dogs come into the road and then beat feet out of there in a hurry, and mainly saw them milling, or its equivalent when there are only two.

No idea how Hunter would manage that interaction, and no intention of finding out, but we don't have a lot of optional routes. We plotted options and took another street in what is technically a subdivision but is really just a big spruce woods where each street is a good quarter mile from the next, and the few streets outnumber the houses on them. Road graders are about, getting ready to finally pave this subdiv which has been dirt roads for 20 years.

Our intention was to come out on the main road again just beyond the llamas. As we walked up the only road that would get us there, stepping around the road graders, Animal Control drives up - I said are you looking for the llamas? and he said yes and we said they're up on the main road and he said no they aren't someone says they're right down here.

Oh damn. And then I saw them behind a house on the far side of the road, pretty well set back. We thought maybe we'd be okay because they had to be 400 yards off.

And then they saw us. Specifically they saw Hunter. And made like two huge, pissed-off bullets right past the ACO and up onto the road. Becky had stayed up on the road while I had dashed with Hunter into the high brush and spruce deadfall off the road. We waited behind some trees, watched quietly, worked our way as far up trail as we could without being seen. Becky walked along the road making sure they could see she was unaccompanied by dog.

The ACO continued to try to capture them and we came out way ahead of them further up the road when we had no more brush to hide behind. See, we were thinking of these guys like mad moose. You give berth, you take a wide-around, you get out of their space and they're no longer
threatened so they're not a threat. We know moose, we know bears. And both of us have been around llamas but only just a little. We were soooo wrong about these llamas when we thought they would quit caring once we were out of their range. We never got out of their range and they meant to pursue us to make that point.

We'd walked pretty quickly and made it another 1/4 mile up the road, me going faster than Becky who was trying to push them back toward the ACO. From somewhere behind me she said Peg, run! and run we did.

Well, sort of. Anyone who has seen me will not mistake me for a runner in any circumstance. I'm strong legged from lots of walking, I've got a low center of gravity and can hike all day. But I'm not a wind sprinter. I look over my shoulder long enough to see Becky throwing rocks and holding them back a moment.

And I start to run. I've been walking fast for over an hour so have put on most of four miles already and am a little tired. I am wearing a Walkvest that is fully loaded, with 32 half-pound weights. And I am dragging a 60-lb dog that wants only to go in reverse. He never made a sound and we were never ever close enough to be an actual harassment, but he sure wants to go back and bitch-slap these llamas now. Whatever I was doing, I'm sure you couldn't classify it as a run. I hear Becky yell at me as they pass her and come rocketing up the road.

About 150 yards ahead of me there is a road grader and a man with his back to me working by it. It's running, so he can't hear me yelling. I hear what's coming up behind me and I drag Hunter harder. I run into the ditch where his truck is pulled over, yelling all the while but he still doesn't
hear. I grab the door handle and think please god let this not be locked, and it isn't. I look up. There's still time - they're about 40 yards from us and maybe? slowing just a bit.

Except Hunter doesn't want to get in this truck. It's a Man Truck, it's a Strange Truck, it's a Very Tall Truck, and plus mom remember those llamas, yes I remember them and now I can identify them by eye color.

But luckily I used to bench press a lame Rottweiler and I now have the equivalent of jet fuel in my veins, so I pick Hunter up by the collar, scream some really not nice words at him, and throw him in the truck. The man turns around and yells HEYYYYYYY!!! to see an apparent truckjacking in progress as I dive into his pickup. When I slam the door behind me and look up, Hunter is nose to nose with a llama through the driver's window.

I talk through the window with the road grader guy as the llamas mill around, up to the main road where we're basically parked now, back down near us. The ACO gets there. Becky gets there. Others get there. Nobody is being threatened. (Nobody is catching them either.) It's just about the dog. I keep Hunter's head down. Whoa, the guy says. I thought these are like calm farm animals but they really want to kill your dog. As we talk, Hunter's head pops up and from the main road the bigger llama whips around immediately and charges back toward us.

This goes on a while and Road Grader Guy needs to get to work. He says we can stay in the truck as long as needed. Becky says we'll lock the truck when we leave. We wait awhile until the proceeding pushes the llamas at least a half mile or more down the road, then slip out of the truck and along the edge of the woods for home. Becky says did you lock the truck? Hell no I'm not locking the truck - it's the only safe place between us and those damn beasts.

We get home. I work in the garden with her a few hours. Time to drive back to Anchorage and I write a thank-you note to Road Grader Guy, figuring I'll leave it on his truck seat. I head up the main road, no vehicles in sight. I figure it's all over. I come to the corner and there's a llama next to the truck. No one else around. Don't know if they caught one and had to come back for the other or what, but the abandoned llama is running agitatedly up and down the road. I wait until it's a bit distant then jump out, leave my note, lock the truck and leave.

This has taken a lot to say, but the way my body hurts right now is something for which I can't begin to find any words at all. My friends here are glad that we are okay but want the video.