Continuing the tradition of ridiculous family outings, today we road-tripped to a llama farm. This is the sort of thing that happens when you leave me to make rash 3am Mother’s Day gift purchases on the internet. “Happy Mother’s Day, let’s have a three course meal next to a pen of spitting animals”.
It was a rather pleasant meal with the spitting animals, really. We wandered around and harassed the llamas, who responded with their trademark indifference. I think llamas are probably the hipsters of the animal world; they’re so unemotional and strange.
The llamas snubbed me, so I bonded with the Nubian goats instead. At least they appreciated me.
I also spent some quality time with the donkeys. In between hissing and ee-yor-ing, they nipped crackers out of my hands. Awwww.
We also got to meet the stud of the llama farm, referred to as “King of the Llamas”. Also known as “Elvis”, “Head Llama”, “Llama CEO”, or “The Dalai Llama”. He was all on his lonesome in a little field. Naturally, we took a ridiculous family photo. I think I might frame it.
Alas, I don’t own a llama-print frock, but if I did, I would have worn it so fiercely, I’d out-fashion the llamas themselves in their fleecy suits. I opted instead for my early 60s tartan frock, which you can read all about here if you feel so inclined.
Ah, so much llama love. If you want to experience it all for yourself, you can check it out here on Red Balloon. Or else I wish you sweet vintage llama dreams, until next time.