Yesterday evening started badly. Bert's baby drank very well all day until the 8pm feed - he didn't really want any but I wasn't too worried as he had done so well during the day and he was very lively. Carl went to do the 10pm feed and as he was going out the dog started to create a terrible racket. Carl discovered a group of lads, some very intoxicated urinating in the car park and looking around. They shot into their car and roared off when they saw him. It wasn't until he came back that he realised they had stolen our post box. Then we started to hear thumping music and there were a few cars driving fast up from Okeford. We never normally hear much at night except animals so this was all very odd and Carl said he would do the night feeds as the music was going on and you could hear shouting in the distance. I went to bed to catch up on sleep only to be woken by Carl at midnight saying the baby still wasn't feeding and it had started to shiver and have diarrhea. I rushed over with him and as soon as I got out of the Mule I could hear it's rasping breaths - just a couple of hours before it had been charging around. Despite the expense I know I am in for it was time for the vet. He arrived and gave him antibiotics and anti-inflamatories and said he was very cold and to warm him up as hypothermia was setting in. This is easier said than done. Carl put his jacket round him and surrounded him with bales which was the best we could do. At 2am I thought he was gone as his breathing was no longer rasping but as I went over he lifted his head which he hadn't been able to do when the vet was here - he was very cold though and I sent Carl back to make up a bottle which he drank a tiny bit of. I rubbed him to try to warm him up. It's an awful thing when you can feel a little life slipping away. Bert's baby was so gorgeous - he had a presence and such a dense fleece you couldn't see the skin - you just couldn't get through the dense, tight, curls - and he shone. I rubbed and rubbed him to try to get him warm with great waves of unchristian anger towards the council and The Three flowing through me. You can't take a sick alpaca back over a field on his own to a house to warm him up.
He died at 4.50am
His name was Matchless.
He didn't need to die.
A better penning solution! - After a long "family illness" and a subsequent reduction of our herd, I am back to report a more recent enhancement to Easter-Wood. One of the problems we ...
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