How Kissing Llamas Can Change Your Life!

I’ve had many watershed moments, but the most recent and most amazing was the way we became the proud owners of Alpaca-LLips Farm. When I was 15 years old, I was kissed by a llama at a petting zoo and fell in love. I visited Snickers (the llama) as often as I could over the course of the next 12 years, and brought my babies when they were, well, babies, to meet my “boyfriend.” The farm owners – whom I knew personally from writing locally – often teased me as Snickers only had eyes for me and only followed and kissed me. Soon, it became a joke that I would one day be a llama farmer. A joke I happily perpetuated throughout my early married years.

Fast forward to the year 2012, and I am now working for a bi-polar woman who has nearly ruined my soul. I know I need to get out, but I also have two sons now in college and two more kids at home and a mortgage and bills, and…you get the idea.  In December of 2012 – I gave up the ghost and quit my job. This was the first full-time grown up job I had obtained since birthing and staying home to raise my kids nearly 20 years earlier.  It was a big deal job and I had no choice but to leave. My soul and my muse were squashed.

Enter a dear friend…”now, would be a great time to get off your ass and become that llama farmer you always talk about,” she said. I laughed out loud. She did not. “Seriously, pick up the phone and find a local llama farmer, talk to him and call me back.” I laughed harder because, really, a llama farmer? Around here? I Googled local llama farm anyway.

I nearly fainted from shock when I discovered there was an alpaca farm -okay, not exactly a llama farm but darn close- less than a 10 minute drive away. I picked up the phone, and in the middle of the day in the year 2012, the owner answered. We had the following conversation.

Him: “Let me tell you how I got involved in alpacas…”when I was a kid, a llama kissed me….” I kid you not, that is what he said. I nearly fell to the ground, and then things got more surreal.

At this point, my head had stopped paying attention and my heart was completely in charge. Surely, this man and I were meant to meet. The next words out of his mouth, after the llama kissing him part, were these, “Hey, I’m home, come on out to the farm. I’ll introduce you around. The name of my farm is Plain View (as in we are in Plain View) and we are located on Rt. 68. As part of my daily travels, I had traversed Route 68 often, and never once had I noticed an alpaca farm with not 1, not 2 but 39 alpacas! Funny, how things can hide in plain sight.

Fast forward two hours and I am standing in the middle of a herd of alpacas up to my eyeballs in alpaca manure, and smiling in a way I thought I had forgotten. Over the next two years, Keith, the alpaca farmer,  and I became close friends. He taught me everything I needed to know about alpacas. I learned to trim toenails, give shots, sheer and all of the intricacies of these amazing creatures. My daughter, Abby, was with me often and we both had the great joy of bottle feeding a baby and being part of the delivery of a cria (a baby alpaca). Throughout this time, I remained basically unemployed with the exception of my freelance writing – which was enough.

It soon became glaringly obvious that I was going to become an alpaca farmer. I had fallen in love with two of the furry beasts –  Gunsmoke and Jaspar – and had agreed to agist them with Keith for upwards of two years while we figured out our next move. Keep in mind that buying a farm at that time was pretty much out of the question with two college kids and two kids at home, but at this point I had stopped asking how or why and was simply moving forward with my dream.

I continued to work with Keith – slowly buying more alpacas and adding to my herd – with no clear idea of when or where they were going to come home to live. Finally, when they were all paid off – we decided to approach the neighbors in our development and the town’s select board to see how they would feel about us erecting a barn on our 3/4 acre lot – something we truly didn’t see happening. There was no rush – Keith was happy to have us agist forever, but I wanted my furry muses’ home.

My husband and sons, ever patient with the schemes of the crazy woman they live with, agreed to spend Columbus Day weekend 2013 erecting a small barn on our 3/4 acre lot. The town and our neighbors were accepting and perhaps, even, excited. We had a lovely barn raising, and were set to bring the beasts home when our Realtor called. I should mention that on a whim I had called a Realtor friend in early 2013 with a list of impossible demands and we had – occasionally – been in touch. We had even visited a few properties. Neither he nor we believed what we were looking for existed.  With my hands still blistered from hammering barn boards I answered the phone.

Jeff – the Realtor’s – opening line was this, “I have found your new home.”

I laughed. In fact, I outright guffawed explaining in no uncertain terms that brand new barn, new driveway (so the trailer could drive in and out with the alpacas) and a two room remodel , had rendered moving a moot point.  “We are NOT moving now,” I declared

He laughed harder. “Oh, yes you are” he said. “I’ll meet you tomorrow to show you the property.” To say my husband and I were negative about the possibility of going to look at a home (located in our home town with over 5 acres as we requested) would be an understatement. To say out Realtor is a saint – also an understatement. Poor man had no idea what he was getting into.

Within an hour, we had piled our sorry, negative selves into the car and drove to meet him at the provided address. Upon arrival, we could not see the house as it was too far up the road, and we nearly turned around. Instead, with some invisible force pushing us onward, we drove up the driveway. The angels began to sing. There before us lay a hand built log cabin, 40 acres (3 of which had been cleared), a 30×50 outbuilding (a.k.a. barn) and an indoor workshop complete with electricity (my husband and son run a woodworking business), and our Realtor and his wife smiling from ear to ear. We could barely speak for the awestruck wonder that pervaded us.

Jeff, being a smart Realtor, took my husband directly to the massive barn/wood shop/garage, and Christy,  the woman of the couple took me in through the three-season screen porch with sunken hot tub into a cathedral ceiling-ed, post and beam great room complete with a lit wood stove. I nearly swooned. I was signing the contract in my head as I settled in on the couch as though this home had been sitting in wait for me all along. We visited “our house” for well over an hour and left in utter awe.

And then – reality – how could we possibly even begin to afford such a massive, incredible, perfect property? It was as though the angels took my husband and I into separate rooms and asked us for all of our wants/needs and then met each one. We could hardly believe such a place existed. Jeff, knowing we were in awe,  pulled us aside and gave us the name of the couple selling the home. He explained that they wanted to meet us. Their last name was Bigelow. My heart stopped. Bigelow – as in Peggy and Lynn?

Peggy Bigelow was my mom’s maid-of-honor back in 1965, and my mom had passed at the young age of 57 from brain cancer and today was – well – believe it or not – the anniversary of my mother’s death. I cocked my head questionably and asked the burning question. Had they lived here for over 30 years? My question was met with a resounding yes. This property had been in the family for many years, and was once a 100 acre parcel. I nearly fainted. Had my mom brought us here from her Heavenly throne? Were these truly THE Bigelows? The answer to both questions was never fully answered, but my heart believes that YES – this was a heavenly intervention.

When we met the homeowners – through the Realtor – we were given the asking price. Both my husband and I nearly fainted- that was nowhere near enough for what lie before us. But, with angels at work and dreams on the line, all things are possible.  The owners did not want to sell to a developer, and wanted someone who would enjoy the land. We signed the papers nearly on the spot. There was a catch. We had to be out of our current house and ready to move by April 1 to match the inevitable domino of deadlines that two families moving brings.

We ran home. We began to clean.  We scrubbed, we scoured, we remodeled, we added new carpet, we painted, we nearly lost our minds and on January 30, 2014 the “For Sale” sign was erected. My heart hurt at first as we had built this house together (our first together home) and we had raised all four kids there- two of them to adulthood.  It was “the best house ever” and we loved it with all of our souls. But, alas, we were going to give this thing our best shot which meant forget the rear-view mirror it is windshield watching all the way!

Over the course of the next few months, our Realtors (the amazing, incredible, inspiring angels that started this story) managed to have our home shown 42 times, and we had an offer in our hands on March 21 – which, coincidentally, was my husband’s 50th birthday. We took the offer. We started to pack. We began to truly believe in the dream, and then the phone rang. The people buying our house decided they would like to be difficult. They began to add demands, and we kept meeting them because, at this point, there was no turning back. Jeff and Christy ran interference for us and got it done. I’ve no doubt that Jeff lost sleep, money, time and faith in humanity in this last ditch effort to secure our dream. There is so much more to this part of the story, but I have been sworn to silence. Suffice it to say that angels often arrive in human form. Sometimes, they are even clothed in Realtor garb.

On April 30, 2014 – we were handed the keys to Alpaca-Llips Farm complete with wood shop, barn, hot tub and wood stove. With dear friends by our side, we crossed the threshold and began the process of moving 18 years and four children worth of stuff into our new home.

Once settled, we brought our five member strong herd of alpacas home. We settled them in the barn and listened to the coyotes howling on the back part of our property.  Clearly, there was only one way to keep them safe. We needed llamas. I began my research on the Southwest Llama rescue site, and was immediately introduced to two llamas – a male and a female – that had never been separated. Tentatively, I picked up the phone and called. A man named Marc answered and explained to me that Dusk and Nellie were great animals, but their owners could no longer care for them. They would be happy to meet me and learn more about our farm (a phrase that still brought tears to my eyes – our farm)…I drove out to meet them. I fell in love. The owners agreed that we were a good fit, and within three days Dusk and Nellie were happily guarding our herd.

Our farm is nowhere near full, but we are five alpacas and two llamas strong. We also have 15 chickens, two dogs, a cat and each other.  My husband turned 50 the day we sold our house and still loves to tell people that he bought the farm at 50. Indeed, we did – with the help of many angels in both heaven and on Earth. We are proof positive that dreams come true. Sometimes they just need to be helped along by a llama kiss, a stubborn friend and angels