Alpaca Show and Tell
We had little time to mourn the loss of Angel, Dancer’s cria, because we needed to prepare for the alpaca show at the Great Frederick Fair 2,000. We had attended this fair for years, but it would be our first time there as livestock exhibitors. We needed to transport our girls, Cher and Pinka, our two human children, and all of the equipment we would need for a four-day visit to the huge, dusty Fairgrounds in the heart of Frederick City, and we would use our new livestock trailer to do it.
I had seen this homemade, livestock trailer advertised for sale in The Frederick Post earlier that summer. The price was far below what most livestock trailers cost, and it was unusually small too, small enough that our minivan could haul it. When I called the phone number in the ad, the farmer who answered asked me what kind of livestock I would need to transport, as the trailer was not suitable for large horses or cows. He had made it himself, and used it to transport two Shetland ponies for his granddaughters when they attended horse shows.
I replied that our alpacas weighed quite a bit less than the Shetlands, and he surprised me by saying that his wife was dying to get two pet-quality alpacas, would I be willing to trade for the trailer? Polo and Lindy were the obvious candidates for the trade, but the thought of giving them up was heart wrenching. We hadn’t expected to say goodbye to any of our alpacas for a couple more years, but this man had plenty of land, and he knew how to care for livestock properly. It seemed like a great home for the boys, and the trailer would be invaluable to us. We agreed to the trade.
The little trailer was goofy-looking, but it had plenty of room inside for Cher and Pinka, as well as a bin full of feed, another bin with small equipment such as halters, fleece-cleaning wands, show clothes, business cards, tape scissors, and other office supplies. We also put in a show fleece, water buckets, a folding table, several camping chairs, a hard-backed chair for me to use when hand spinning, and a large banner with our farm name on it to attach to our pens at the show. I didn’t entrust my Kiwi spinning wheel to the trailer though, I strapped it into the back seat of the van with a seatbelt, right next to Casey and Nick.
We towed the little trailer to the very back of the fairgrounds where there were many large, wooden, livestock barns. Each barn had a wide aisle down the middle and rows of livestock pens on either side. The alpaca barn was situated beside the sheep barn, and a tent nearby housed both of their fleece shows. We parked as close as we could to the pens that would be our home for the next four days, jumped out of the van, and walked to the back of the trailer to unload Cher and Pinka. Fairgoers all around us stopped to watch, curious to see what animals would come out of the strange, little trailer. When opened, the trailer’s back door became a ramp to the ground. We quickly climbed inside to halter Cher and Pinka before they could jump out. Neither seemed happy at the idea of walking down the ramp into this strange new location; they managed a couple of steps on it and then surprised us by leaping off sideways. It was all we could do to hold on to their halters and jump off ourselves without falling down.
A crowd of people rushed up to admire Pinka, who squeaked and shied away, and Cher, who stood her ground regally, allowing her admirers to pet her neck and back. This was our first experience of how difficult it was going to be to move our alpacas anywhere in public. Most of these folks had never seen an alpaca, much less touched one, and some thought they were baby llamas, but the alpacas never failed to draw a crowd in public spaces. It sometimes felt like trying to lead unicorns around.
Because the animals shown at the fair have to be housed there for 4 to 5 days, we would also be living at the fair for most of every day and evening, guarding and caring for our alpacas, walking back and forth from the barn to the show ring, standing by our pens, answering questions from fairgoers, and trying to keep our kids from wandering off, drawn by the irresistible lure of exciting carnival rides with loud sound effects and the pervasive aroma of French fries and cotton candy.
Having celebrated it’s 138th year in the year 2,000, the Great Frederick Fair was a local treasure offering shows for horses, cows, pigs, goats, sheep, rabbits and chickens as well as alpacas and llamas. Because it was a regional fair, exhibitors came from all over Maryland, Delaware, Virginia, Pennsylvania and beyond. There were also buildings full of home arts such as quilts, knitting and woodworking projects and homemade clothing, vegetable growing contests, 4-H projects, and fine arts competitions for paintings and photographs. Country music headliners such as Loretta Lynn and Garth Brooks performed in the enormous stadium there. It even boasted its own harness racing track where Standardbred horses and their drivers competed during the fair.
We were lucky to have such a huge, regional fair just up the road from us and we knew it, but the fair could be exhausting for us as well as the alpacas. We answered the same questions all day:
“Are they llamas?” or “Are they mini-llamas?”
“Do they make good pets?”
“How much do they cost?”
“Can you ride them?”
“What are they for?”
Most of the fairgoers were appreciative of the opportunity to ask us about our animals, but there were a few that made us want to smack them. I had taped little signs to the rails of the pen the girls were in, asking people not to pet the alpacas on the top of the head. My signs said, “Please!” and explained that alpacas prefer to be petted on the neck or back. Many people tried to pet them on the head anyway, either because they didn’t’ bother to read the sign or, as was the case with one particularly obnoxious man, they thought they knew better than we did. The man in question, aggressively patted Cher several times on the top of the head while saying, “See, she doesn’t mind it!” I stepped into the pen between Cher and her tormenter and replied as civilly as I could, “She isn’t going to growl at you like a dog, she’s just going to suffer and get stressed out. He walked off in a huff. Maybe I should have patted him on the head?
The more I asked folks not to do the head patting, the more I began to wonder if dogs even like to be patted on the top of the head. Do they just tolerate it because they know their people like to do it? In any case, the idea that the alpacas would not tolerate it if it bothered them is flat out wrong. Some will feel trapped in the pen and don’t know enough to move away. Some will give a sign of distress such as a soft humming noise. This clearly tells other alpacas that they’re unhappy, but it’s easily misunderstood by people. Strangely, people, themselves, don’t like to be patted on the head. It’s condescending and uncomfortable. Why do they have the urge to do it to animals? Prey animals find it terrifying. Having a hand coming directly at your face, then going where you can no longer see it feels like an aggression. I guess it’s a sign of how divorced modern people are from the natural world that we want to treat every animal as if it were a dog, and we may not even get the dog thing right.
There were also a few people who tried to let themselves into our pens without permission. Sometimes this was done while we were away for a moment, but some tried it while we were nearby, talking to someone else. I couldn’t imagine them trying to let themselves into a pen with someone else’s cows or pigs, but I suppose the alpacas seemed like furry toys to them. Many people, both adults and children, picked up straw from the ground inside of the pen and waved it around, trying to get Cher and Pinka’s attention. They thought they were offering them food, so we had to tell them, as politely as we could, that straw is not food but bedding material, and the girls already had a bag of hay in the far corner.
There were even people who allowed their children to run up to the alpacas while we were trying to lead them to the show ring and back, some grabbing handfuls of fur and a few even approaching from directly behind the alpaca. One of these children provoked a half-hearted kick from Cher, prompting the outraged mother to say, “Your animal tried to kick my child!” “Your child ran up to the back end of an animal” I replied, exasperated. “You’re lucky it wasn’t a horse.”
But, as annoying as these interactions could be, they illustrate one of the reasons that we desperately need agricultural fairs. It’s an opportunity to teach people from suburban and urban areas some of the things farm kids grow up knowing. How do you know the difference between hay and straw if you haven’t seen them before? How do you know that most animals are afraid to be touched on the head or approached from behind? How do you understand the difference between a pet and a livestock animal?
We thought that educating the public about alpacas and their end product was a very important thing to do. Sadly, not enough alpaca breeders agreed with us. Many refused to show at agricultural fairs, preferring alpacas-only shows that more closely resembled a convention than a fair. At these shows, alpaca owners spoke only to one another or prospective buyers, and there were often seminars about how to aggressively sell your animals and/or use your farm as a tax write-off. This emphasis on money issues and reluctance to take their part in the community of farmers, made alpaca breeders look suspicious and didn’t help our industry when others claimed it was a pyramid scheme.
After the loss of Angel, the fair was a good reminder to us of how lucky we were to have our little farm. So many of the folks that stopped and talked to us were openly envious and told us of their own small farm fantasies. Casey and Nick were thrilled every time one of their school friends happened to stop by. We allowed them to carefully open the pen and let their friends in to pet the alpacas. Showing off a little at the fair is one of the perks of being a farm kid. They also got a day off from school out of this deal. Frederick County has considered the Friday that children show their livestock at the Frederick Fair to be an excused absence for all farm kids for as long as anyone can remember.
Casey, now 8 years old, was the first of us to enter the show ring, competing with Cher in the children’s obstacle class. This usually involved guiding the alpaca over some small jumps, backing it straight up into a chute outlined on the ground, ducking under an obstacle shaped like a mantelpiece, turning around in a complete circle, crossing a bridge, and walking across a teeter-totter. The teeter-totter is often the hardest obstacle because, as the alpaca and handler’s weight moves past the center point, the board clunks down, startling the alpaca. If the alpaca hops off sideways rather than walking off the end, points are deducted. Casey had been practicing all summer and did quite well, managing to win second place ribbon.
As happy and relieved as we were about that win, the contest that really mattered was the one where Cher would be judged for how correct she was in her body conformation, teeth alignment and gait. I would be her handler for this critical test, and I was a nervous wreck when my turn came to enter the show ring.
We entered one by one and led our alpacas around the perimeter of the show ring in a large circle while the judge, in the center, watched how each alpaca moved. Soon, we were signaled to stop and move to the center of the ring in a long, sideways line. The judge walked up to each of us in turn and examined our alpaca, walking all around it. She asked us to show her the alpaca’s teeth. This is accomplished by holding the halter lead in one hand, snaking your other arm behind the alpaca’s neck, up to the muzzle, and using two fingers to spread apart the bottom and top lip. I was very relieved when Cher stood still and cooperated during this maneuver.
The final test involved walking directly away from the judge and then back towards her so she could see the gait from the front and back. She was checking for “tightrope walking”, where the left and right hooves appear to be stepping inward toward a centerline, or bowl-legged gaits. Ideally, the toes should point perfectly straight ahead when the alpaca walks. It felt as if time was standing still while I stood there waiting for the judge to work her way down the entire line of exhibitors.
Cher was probably the youngest in this class due to her January birth, which put her at a disadvantage, but I harbored a small hope that she would place anyway. Finally, it was over. The ring steward walked forward and motioned for Cher and me to move toward the judging table. Was I in third place? I found Tom’s face in the crowd and gave him a questioning look, but he seemed confused as well. Two more alpacas and their handlers were motioned forward and then I was handed a first place ribbon. I couldn’t believe it. Cher had won first place!
I exited the ring ecstatic, but then something bizarre happened. One of the other exhibitors stalked up to me. She and her husband owned a very large, very well known, alpaca farm in Virginia. This woman took my hand as if to congratulate me, but held onto it and said, in a pitying tone, “You do realize that you should not have won that class?” I yanked my hand away in shock. She added, shaking her head, “I had two national show winners in that ring.” I was appalled, but I managed to answer her, “I’m glad to know that Cher beat two national show winners. I’ll be using that in my advertising from now on.” I led Cher away, my face hot from indignation.
Breeder A approached me next and congratulated me very sincerely, adding that she had tremendous respect for our judge, a Canadian lady with many years of experience. A handful of MABA members from smaller farms also came over to shake my hand and admire Cher, cooling my temper considerably. We now had two ribbons to hang on our pens and we would soon receive another first place ribbon for Primrose’s fleece from the fleece show. We had no plans to show Pinka. She was too timid for the obstacle class and her body was not correct enough to win in a conformation class. Her main job at the fair was to keep Cher company, but her fleece was much finer than Cher’s. I encouraged several prospective buyers to sink their fingers into it.
At one point some of the fair board members came by our booth and saw that I was doing a hand spinning demonstration for an appreciative audience of adults and children. They asked me if I had any interest in running the alpaca fleece show for them the next year because it was currently run, less than enthusiastically, by some sheep breeders at the request of the fair board. I was surprised that no other MABA member had offered to do it, but eagerly agreed.
We would go to many alpaca shows over the next few years, I’d even help start one, but the Great Frederick Fair would always feel like home to us. Our kids grew up showing there and some of our neighbor’s kids showed for us there as well. I eventually became a fair superintendent in charge of the fleece shows, spinning & weaving contests and a large display of natural fibers and spinning equipment I put together myself.
Located inside of those fairgrounds is the only physical memorial to my sister Beth. A brick bearing her name and the dates of her birth and death lies on the ground inside the home arts building there. She loved the fair as much as I did, and attended faithfully for years. I could think of no better tribute to her memory than to give her a permanent place at the Great Frederick Fair.
