This is the boy. Every year we get a boy, year after year, a one single boy. And for a long time, each one of the boys get to be called the boy until eventually we come across a name we think suitable for the particular animal.
So far, after nearly five months, this one is still just the boy and he’s one of those that you can’t decide if he melts your heart or drives you crazy.
Some call him 007. He is a proper boisterous, playful, suave, reckless, sophisticated, unexpected, curious, independent, charming boy.
He frequently wanders away from the group in search of adventure, and comes up with the funniest games I’ve ever seen.
While he was the only cria born, he played running games with us. But we couldn’t quite keep up with the few days old youngster dodging, jumping, prancing and running up and down the field.
He’s sometimes told off by the older girls, that don’t particularly enjoy when he, on a sudden unexpected occurrence, crashes on them with his chest forward, looking for someone to play with.
Yesterday evening he was playing with the torch light on the ground as I went to see them in the field. He was jumping on the flash of light and chasing it, while the girls all stayed perplex observing the variety of moves he has somehow gathered and displayed in a complicated, puzzling dance to the movement of the torch as it sways to the rhythm of my walk.
He’s very curious but keeps a prudent distance. And when you handle him, he poses in the spot in a smart stand, offering you the legs and feet on request, not fighting the care. But as soon as your hand loses hold, he disappears into the group in a fraction of a second. You’re sure you won’t be able to have him again until another day. And every now and then he pops his head up from behind his mum’s back, keeping a close eye on your moves, in case he gets to run again.
Kestle Alpacas 