A Llama in the Yard

Posted by Sheri Amsel Jan 19, 2007

In 1987 I finished my thesis at Colorado State University on llama anatomy and moved cross-country to the Adirondacks in upstate New York. I brought with me a llama left over from the study.

My husband was dubious about this. I explained that he was a pet, like the dog. He mumbled that the dog at least gave the illusion of protecting the house. What did the llama do? He didn’t do much, just grazed the lawn and watched everything we did in the yard. They are territorial animals and I had no doubt he saw us as part of his herd. For five years we wondered why we had this llama, though as a pet, he was rather a pleasant fellow. Then one day we found out his true worth.

I was watching my three-year old from the kitchen window while I did the dishes. He was in the sandbox across the yard and I could see him, but not the llama or field beyond. Then all of a sudden the llama let out a series of booming alarm calls that sounded like a cross between a turkey goggle and a bellow. I ran outside and found the llama, ears back, bellowing the alarm at something out in the field. It was the largest coyote I had ever seen. He was less than 100 feet from the yard. I took it all in an instant. That coyote was watching my small son in the sandbox with what could only be described as predator’s intent. I ran at him like a flailing maniac and he ran away. Then I stood staring at the llama, who had gone back to peacefully grazing on the lawn. We never doubted again what good that llama was doing us in our backyard.