We had us a camel rodeo!

Lordawmighty.  It was not a pretty sight, let me tell you.  Kevin Ford arrived early morning and I had closed the gang in the shed for the night - since there was rain forecast for the next 200 days.  He set up and we moved the three sheep through quickly and without too much fuss, although Linden seemed to feel the entire process was way beneath his dignity.  He's an eely thing, for a fat little sheep.  I always stop to admire Juno's beautiful, black, dense, velvety pelt.  She is such a beautiful sheep.

Then I went into the shed to put on Apria's halter.

It got real exciting after that.  She was surprisingly good about my putting the halter on.  And she came out without too much hesitation on the lead.  Then she noticed that there was a foreigner in the mix (Kevin) and we had us a hootenanny!  She was a whirling kaleidoscope of dirty dreadlocks.  She bucked.  She bounced.  She carried on.  Then she finally dug her heels in.  Part of the problem, of course, is that her vision is impaired.  We were finally calmed down when she stepped in a feed dish.  We repeated the dance a few times until we got her moved over to a sizable tree and tied her lead tightly to it.

It wasn't too bad at the start - Kevin had to work his way through about six inches of heavy felted fiber on her neck.  And he is a blade shearer - no electric gizmos for him.  Apria was wary, but he was making headway until....he neared her legs.  Now Hoosier was no fan of leg shenanigans, either.  But hoo-ha, my Aunt Marie!  Hoosier was nothing compared to the appearance of the Evil Inner Camel!  She bared her teeth, she screeched, she gurgled, she spit, she kicked, bucked, danced and looked like a possessed thing.  I braced her on one side, Kevin draped himself over and gingerly clipped her legs and haunches.  He laughingly said there was one llama he sheared that would put his head back and spit straight up.  And then it rained down on everyone.  I kept a very close eye on her head after that. 

The "Before".

"Does my head look fat?"

The process was punctuated by worried bleats by Linden, who has taken quite a fancy to Apria.  I don't blame him.  The entire experience would have chilled the blood of even your most shock-resistent teenager.  After about 20 minutes, we were both breathless and all that was left was her mid-section.  We decided that it was a good idea to just shear her down from head to toe and not have to revisit this Llama version of The Exorcist for another year.  Then we looked down at her hooves.  They need trimming.  Then we looked at each other, and I busied myself gathering wool (she must have been carrying a 10 pound wad of felted fiber on her neck), while he hurried to cram his blade and kit together.  I kidded him that she was a perfect warm-up act for the next three llamas he was heading off to shear.  While he laughed weakly, he sure was moving fast toward his car and escape.  I think a gallon of Rescue Remedy is in order for hoof trimming.

Sigh.  So, it wasn't the "wool" that made them look fat.