The Immigrant Llama: A North American Pack Animal

It was my friend Tom Deeble who first introduced me to the local llamas. Not the Dali Lama, but the camelid, or New World camel. He had been using these beautiful beasts for several seasons, to carry gear into the high Sierras thereby converting backpack trips into luxurious excursions, something we had heretofore only found through horse packing. For me, the llamas were love at first sight. I found the baby eyed, incredibly sweet-breathed, graceful ruminants to be sturdy mountain wise companions. Furthermore, I now wonder what I ever did see in being my own beast of burden, and a relatively limited one at that. I found new delight in the luxury of taking along all those things which make life easy above tree line, but which I could not carry by myself. At last I realized that I never did actually enjoy carrying 50 pounds on my back; and at any rate, it became clear that I would be unable to continue during an always advancing state of physiologic decay, which with a bit of luck would continue inexorably .

A few years ago people began to import llamas from South America, in the hope that they would become commercially profitable here. At that time breeding animals were very costly, often selling for $10,000 or more. These entrepreneurial efforts have, so far at least, not been economically profitable; although the meat is nourishing, tasty, and low in fat, llamas are apparently not great producers. (The guanaco is a wild and wily undomesticable camelid of the Andes, a sort of smaller version of the Llama. At the 4500 meter high summer camp of some Chilean huasos, or cowboys, I have been honored by being invited to partake of illegal guanaco stew, felt by them to be a delicacy, and I can agree with their assessment of it's culinary merits.) But despite their merits, neither llama meat nor wool have taken hold here in North America.

The immigrant llama, on the other hand, has thrived, at least in the domestic state, and is seen quite frequently, especially in the Western US. Llamas are herd animals, although they are occasionally kept singly just because they are so pretty to look at. There are now many thousands of llama owners, breeders, and packers in the U S. A broad range of suppliers, and literature exists. Locally for example, the Gold Country Llama Association claims over 100 members; most are breeders, but their brochure lists seven nearby commercial llama packers. The price, training, and maturation of the mature pack llama is roughly comparable to that of a horse.

The llama, like the potato, was domesticated by precolumbian indigenous peoples in South America. A camelid native to the Andes, llamas are particularly well adapted to mountain terrain , and are commonly used in the altiplano as pack animals. They are ruminants, regurgitate and chew like cattle. They are browsers, and can generally live off the land. As browsers they do not pillage and destroy all vegetation as do goats. Their feet are padded, therefore much less destructive of terrain, leaving no deeply rutted and eroded trails like horses.

Depending on the size and condition of the llama, which can weigh considerably more than 150 pounds, they can carry from 60 to 100 pounds nicely, pound for pound, relatively more than a horse or mule. Unlike sheep, they are capable of defending themselves from carnivors. Endowed with extremely acute vision and smell, a male llama, raised and bonded with sheep, makes a very efficient and effective shepherd, as he will detect, attack, and drive off predators.

Ecologically and practically speaking, therefore, pack llamas are far superior to ungulates, or hoofed animals. Humanity is constrained universally, however, by preconceptions, cultural restrictions, and subtle prejudice. In South America, where I visit often, I have never seen the llama used as a pack animal by other than indigenous people; in other words, by Native South American Indians. The European conquerors, Conquistadores, were, and are, horse worshipers, for apparent reasons. The horse was historically a formidable and fearsome animal, able to carry warriors, as well as considerable loads. Even the word for gentleman in Spanish is caballero, or horseman; as always, language reflects and moulds thought, thinking, and culture. In this light native camelids were, and are, inferior. The conquered peoples, and their llamas as well, remain stigmatized by history and the past. No connquistador would tolerate being seen leading llama about.

The symbiotic beauty, and utility, of cultural miscegenation, is demonstrated by the fate of the "immigrant " llama in North America. Here, the llama has been seen with new eyes; eyes unblinded by the brilliant fire of Cortez and Pizarro. Eyes which saw mountain ranges as safe houses far from the toxic wastes of modern living. Small llama herdsmen began to use llamas for pack animals in the Sierras. Light new material was adapted to make well fitting comfortable, and practical packs, like double saddle bags. Small horse trailers, utility trailers, pickup trucks, even Volkswagon minibusses were enlisted to move the llamas to trailheads. What has evolved is the North American Pack Llama, employing a new equipment and techniques. Today there are commercial llama trainers and packers who provide full service pack trips, so reasonably and efficiently as to threaten traditional horse pack outfitters.

The quick and dirty way to llama pack is to contract with a professional, who will trailer the llamas to the trail head, and pack in, and out, with or without full services. One local provider charges roughly $30 daily per llama, and $1.50 per mile for trailering. But my friend Tom is more adventuresome than most. We first took a four hour course in loading, and managing llamas, then a three day trial by immersion in the Eastern Sierras. We used mature llamas who were well trained and in good condition, accustomed to packing.

Though our experience was very positive, we were probably just lucky. There is much to be learned. Some llamas will head for home if they get loose; and it is very hard to catch a loose llama. The llamas tend to just sit down when something is amiss. One must learn to figure out what the problem is. And also how to get them up. They tend to try to jump over obstacles, pack and all. One must lead the llama with care, and thoughtfulness, so as not to erode the trust which is necessary for the animal to follow with confidence. They must be loaded carefully, and evenly. They can kick in all directions, and even though their feet are leathery, they can knock a pesky dog 20 feet in the air.

They don't often spit, but when angry or upset can regurgitate forcefully through a locked-open mouth. They are almost never actually friendly, even if they look cuddly, but on the other hand neither are they treacherous or aggressive. While they are usually trustworthy about browsing, there are a number of plants, both domestic and wild, which are poisonous for llamas. A few leaves of rhododendron or oleander can be fatal. Less dangerous but common toxic plants include laurel, some ivies, bleeding heart, bracken fern, all sneeze weeds, and of course nightshade (belladonna), or foxglove(digitalis).

Tom and I later attended a one-day course offered by octogenarian Rudy Stuaffer of Placerville. Rudy himself is the stuff of legends, but that is another story. The subject was llama packing and husbandry. (I suspect the word husbandry implies a sacramental, full time legal and binding commitment, which is not far from the truth, as in the care and responsibility for any animal. But I would prefer it be called something else. Upon us is the brave new millennium, after all, when such notions as husbandliness and wifleliness are to be exorcised, even from our world villages.)

In any event, Tom and I hope to continue learning and enjoying llama packing with these immigrant camelids. It has been well worth the effort so far. It is our thought that we can become competent, and in the sometime future, as ex physicians, keep a few choice well trained and well-maintained llamas. If so, perhaps we can continue to enjoy these unique alpine-wise animals and the mountain worlds they dominate so well, into an indefinite and pleasant senility.