I haven't written for quite some time.
There's not been a great deal to say - other than lockdown, skint, alpacas, crias, lockdown again, Christmas and it goes dark far too early. That said - we've been busy. Stu is making progress (he's not rushing) with the final room makeover - the utility. He is a bloody genius tbh. A lot of hard work has gone into stripping back, boxing in, boarding and skimming - walls, chimney breast and ceiling. It's his new favourite room. And it's nowhere near finished. Still to do (short version):
So what am I up to? Well...I finally secured a contract...or two. Hahaha..(hysterical 'how the heck am I going to do both' type laugh - definitely not the ner, ner, ner-ner, ner smart arse type). In other news... We keep changing our minds about the 'Dougie' situation. first we have to wean both him and our little Winnie. We need to get them away from their mums.
Once both are weaned and when Dougie starts to realise he is a bloke he will need to be moved. Options:
Stu's view is..."we are NOT getting rid of him". On that basis...as he will need to be away from the girls (out of sight and smell range) he will need to be in his own little herd of boys. Which is why we are currently trying to find some land that we can rent. Should we be spending money willy nilly on such 'non-essentials'? A question I ask myself frequently. So to justify to me and Stu...
Thoughts on a postcard please to: Debs and Stu The house with the solar panels and the alpacas Somewhere in Wales
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My last update was less than upbeat. We had come to the conclusion that Dougie the cria would be leaving us around 6-8 months old. Once his tackle becomes active.
Well...it seems Stu has come up with a cunning plan...
The cunning idea is that once Dougie is old enough to be weaned he can move into the smaller section of paddock and see his mum and pals over the fence and inside the shelter. That way he will still be part of the herd and won't be lonely. Then - we find a cunning vet who is willing to sort his (Dougie's) knackers before he is 12 months old. Let's just hope this plan is cunning enough... This Friday... We're off to remove the roof of a garage somewhere in Cynwyd. The deal is that if we take all the roof panels we can have them free of charge. So we get far too many panels to roof the shelter extension. But we lead on to the next cunning plan.... Summerhouse on decking... An idea we're working on which has become more cunning as we realised that we could use the excess of roofing panels to clad it. This plan is in its infancy. Work will not commence for some time. In other news... I started working at the Rhug Estate. Within five minutes of my first shift, in the takeaway, I was suddenly a Barista. No H&S training, no food hygiene training. No clue what a Mocha is. Nothing. Started work at 9am and finally had a half hour break (a brew and some food) at 3.30pm. After a second shift of similar the next day...I left. I start a new job next week. On Monday morning (wearing my new baby pink paint overalls) I will report to the Head of This and That - also known as my Stu. Hopefully I will be allowed the occasional tea break. I finally spoke to the vet about Dougie.
In a nutshell (no pun intended)...we can't get him neutered until he is 18 months old. And as we have three girls (one being his mum)...we won't be able to keep him as he will be sexually active long before then. I am gutted. Totally. He is just over six weeks old. And he will probably need to leave us when he is around 6-8 months old. In the meantime...he continues to amuse... He comes when he is called...rushing over to nibble my hair. I've also discovered if I tickle his tum he lies down. Today was one of those days when I wish I'd had my phone on me... Minky (mum) was sitting quietly (or cushing) when Dougie climbed right up on her back. She panicked and stood up. With Dougie still in-situ. Until he fell off. I shall be spending the next few days with camera at the ready just in case he does it again. I don't think the chickens will be too sorry to see the back of him. When he has his mad half hour he chases the hens round the paddock - blocking them in the top corner. But I am not looking forward to separating from his mum. I imagine we'll have a few tough days when he goes. Me and Minky can sit and cry together in a corner. So tomorrow is my birthday. And even though I'm not one for a big fuss...we normally 'do' something.
Of course this year it's going to be a quiet affair whether I like it or not. Many of you will have experienced a lock-down birthday already...so you will know. I'm not feeling great. The weather is crap. I've been bitten by a horsefly. And FB memories of past birthday holidays in Iceland, the Lakes and Turkey are not helping. In Wales we can still only drive five miles. But we're lucky. Five miles from here we have lots of beautiful walks. So maybe I give myself a good talking to, plan a mini road trip and bake a cake. And thanks to Joe for his perfectly timed bouquet of flowers. They've brought a little bit of 'day before birthday' cheer xxx So Minky had her cria. At 11.30pm on June 30.
According to Google (mainly sites set up by American alpaca owners), Alpacas only give birth at night if there's something wrong. I think the theory behind this is that they give birth around lunchtime (or between 8am and 2pm, or from 7am to 4pm...depending on which website you believe) to give the baby the best chance of survival. In Peru, the mornings are cold...as are the nights. Unpacking a cria around midday, when it's warmer, means the baby has time to dry off and find its legs. Anyway. Last night, around 9pm, I went out to check on the girls. And something made me decide to forego another episode of Dark and stay with them for a while. Minky somehow didn't look her usual self. Clearly I know what her usual self looks like as I have spent weeks sitting with them on the paddock. She wasn't comfy and was doing a fair amount of 'drama queen' humming. That on top of frequent visits to the poo pile made me suspicious. However (according to Google again), alpacas don't tend to ruminate when in labour. And as Minky was still chewing away, I initially assumed she was very close to unpacking, but that she'd most likely deliver the next day. At 10pm Stu headed off to bed and I decided to stay out until it was a little darker (and take a stroll around the paddock several times to up my daily step count). Around 11pm I noticed Minky was looking a little different around her rear end. Five minutes later she was clearly having contractions. By the time I had been to get a pair of gloves and towel, baby's head, legs and neck were out. He was still in the water bag and clearly struggling. So I had to break the sack and clear his mouth. Then stepped back again to let her continue. Before long it was obvious that he was a little stuck. I was worried that Mink would panic if I got too close, but fortunately I don't think she knew what day it was so was happy for me to step in and help. Anyway - long story short...he arrived. I let them bond. Then I moved him to the shelter. Then I rang Stu (no way I was leaving Minky to run up two flights of stairs) to see if he wanted to come down. I'm glad he did to be honest. It's not easy to hold a torch and manoeuvre a huge placenta onto a shovel and into a bag. (Unlike some other animals, alpaca don't eat their placenta. It's best to remove it asap so there's no danger of predators etc hanging around - plus it's just plain gross.) Once things had settled we decided it was best to fence Minky and baby into the shelter and keep a very giddy Freda and Winnie out of the way for the night. I've no idea what time Stu got back to bed - but he must have been shattered at work today. I'm kind of glad she gave birth at night when he was around as he missed Winnie's arrival. I spent a couple of hours keeping a close eye on them both and watching Dougie's terrible attempts to suckle. I didn't want to leave them until he had fed. Anyway - today, his first full day on the paddock, I've pretty much left them all to it. He's already attempted to beat Winnie's paddock speed record. Dougie
A boy. I would have preferred another girl to be honest, as there would have been no question as to whether we keep her. So..as he's a boy we're going to have to make some decisions at some point. But not just yet. For now (and for the next 6-8 months) we're going to enjoy watching him grow. Alpaca report...
Minky still hasn't unpacked. And I really wish she would. She's uncomfortable and far too hot. Tum and Bum watch continues. Baby is very active (thank goodness), mum has been 'bagged up' (milk at the ready) for over two weeks and her rear end is looking almost primed (sorry - but to be fair I have kept the description vague). Meanwhile four month old Winnie continues to pester her relentlessly. She also jumps up at me if I don't give her attention at feeding time. Chicken news...
House update...
In other news... I don't 'do' politics but..."Kung Flu"...seriously? How the hell does he get away with it? How is he still in power? How did he even get there in the first place. He's a bloody disgrace. (Kung Flu is just one of many defining moments too many to rant about...this one just made me spit with anger that little bit more.) And meanwhile in England... Hair salons to open. However much I need a haircut (and miss Tim my hairdresser) the last place I would want to be right now is somewhere with lots of people and hairdryers blowing germs around willy nilly. Here in Wales, they are tentatively starting to open shops and planning for the return of tourists to cottages and static caravans mid-July. If I'm honest...I'm scared. We've been so cut off for so long I'm terrified of people bringing covid here. I'm scared of getting it. My anxiety is going through the ceiling right now. I'm torn between wanting to get back to normal and continuing to hide away watching Minky's fanny. Finally...hall and landing vibes... Firstly, how has it been three months since my last post?
Three months since Winnie was born. And in that three months we've been to Norway. And after Norway - lockdown happened....
And things that haven't happened since my last post...
This week I have to treat the alpacas for worms. This should be interesting as the only one who allows me to touch her is Winnie. Talking of Winnie...she is a real character.
I have to add that none of my girls have ever spat at me (so far....let's see if that changes when it comes to catching them for worming). They use a sort of noisy air spit to tell each other off. You just have to make sure you don't get in the crossfire. It's been nearly four weeks since I thought Freda was probably, maybe, getting ready for her cria - bearing in mind it was also the same time that I was finally convinced that she was actually pregnant.
When we got our girls last August we knew there was a chance that they were pregnant. A good chance...just not confirmed. Most Alpaca breeders wouldn't dream of having a cria in February. It's really not the best time of year. Most will put the male to their girls during early / mid Summer - meaning that babies would arrive late Spring at the earliest. Eleven to twelve months gestation. Anyway - Freda clearly wasn't able to cross her legs any longer when she started to look very unhappy and unsettled this morning. I was mentally ticking off the signs of labour:
Plus one that Google searches hadn't come up with:
And to cut a long story short, a little nose poked out of Freda's business end at 1.13pm this afternoon. At 1.15pm two, very long stick legs made an appearance. Then Freda decided she was hungry. And gave up pushing. I watched with anxiety building for half an hour. Shouting encouragement from the decking steps (far enough away to avoid additional stress for Freda). After half an hour of no further pushing I decided I needed to see if she needed a little help. The cria was breathing, moving and making tiny noises. Exciting but equally distressing. She was happy for me to get close. So I tentatively pulled the legs...very gently...downwards. Then stepped back. Finally, Freda remembered she was supposed to be 'unpacking' and finished the job off. Then decided she needed to eat again. Regardless of her need for food, Freda is turning out to be a great mum. Very protective of her beautiful baby. I spent the rest of the day in awe - watching the tiny, thin, spindly cria get its strength. Watching it struggle to stand - to following mum round the paddock. And finally, thankfully - finding her milk. What a day. One I'll never forget. P.S. For those wondering....we think it's a girl. But I haven't managed to confirm just yet as I don't want to interfere any more than I need. Mum and baby just need the time to bond. So tonight.... Baby is wearing one of my jumpers and her cria coat. Mum and baby are settled in the shelter (Minky has been shut out for the night - I can't risk her getting rough with baby). I won't be getting much shut-eye. Guaranteed. And here are the inevitable photos...from just born to the end of the day. So the New Year didn't start quite how I would have wanted.
I guess that's putting it mildly. Sitting on the field with my two Alpacas, taking in the views, drinking tea and listening to Asgeir on New Year's Day I wasn't expecting to receive bad news. Life throws some shitty sticks at times - and at some point we are all unfortunate enough to catch one. Death is inevitable - it happens to us all. But how we treat death differs greatly around the world. Over the past couple of weeks I have attended a funeral in the UK and Turkey. Both desperately sad, dignified and beautiful in very different ways and for different reasons and both will linger in my memories for many years to come. In the UK to those close and to her many, many friends the loss of a colourful, fun-loving person at such a young age is devastating. Her funeral was truly beautiful. Carefully orchestrated with many visual and spoken memories in addition to music that holds very personal meaning to those close. When I arrived in Turkey, following the death of my Step-dad Alan, I had no concept of what was to follow. And it has been a tough and steep learning curve. The day before the funeral I visited the local morgue where I met a couple of Alan's friends. One Turkish and one English. I stayed out of the way while they dressed him. Then I had a couple of minutes alone with him to say my goodbyes and goodbye from my Mum and three sisters. I really can't go into too much detail on here. I don't think it would be right to provide too much of a description. But the experience of the morgue in Turkey was raw. And to be honest - shocking. But there was so much respect. And love. The local Imam helped the two friends to wrap Alan's body in a shroud once he was dressed. From what I understand (and forgive me if I am wrong) in Turkey the deceased go to the ground naked - wrapped simply in a shroud. So dressing the body was alien to them - but they respected our tradition. The following day, the funeral was to take place at midday. And in the morning the heavens opened. 'The burial may be delayed' was the message received at 10.30am. One thing I found a shock to the system was the lack of a 'service' - in a church or, as often in the UK, a Crematorium, Alan's body was carried from the morgue to the graveside in a box, lifted from the box and put straight into the ground. At this point I expected everyone to gather round. But everyone stayed at a respectful distance as the council workmen and Alan's friends proceeded to fill the grave. Whilst a shock and not what I was expecting - seeing all the men take turns to shovel the clay soil was quite moving. Once I had got over the shock I decided I needed to at least place one shovel of soil in the grave, whilst my Mum threw in a handful. We then stood there and watched the men work to replace every last scrap of clay soil and a temporary wooden marker. The Imam then spoke a few words from the Quran (we felt this was a fitting tribute on behalf of Alan's many Turkish friends), before a British friend, John, delivered a short eulogy and I read out a poem. And that was it. Raw. Basic. But with so much respect and love from the Kalkan community. An experience I will never forget for many reasons. I would like to say my own personal thanks to John (Fed) who I met for the first time at the weekend. Without his help, guidance and comfort I am not sure how we would have coped. There are many more that contributed in so many ways. Thank you Kalkan people x I have typed and deleted the opening sentence of this post several times. I have a lot to say but don't know how to say it or where to start.
I am always outwardly strong. I put on a brave face. I'm told I am good in a crisis. But today I broke. Today I lost my stepdad. I loved him dearly. He drove me nuts. But I loved him. Something inside me broke today. |
DebbieMe, my life, my family and my travels Archives
November 2022
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