by Parks, Alan
Chapter 19
The New Bar
One day in town we ran into Antonio, the estate agent, and he told us that a friend of his was opening a new bar in the countryside and we should go along. The grand opening would be in a few days time at 11pm and all the English people would be there.
“You should make an effort,” he said bossily. “We never see you anywhere. Every fiesta, I am out until 6am in the morning partying with the Spanish. You need to integrate.”
We felt that we were integrating just fine; we had new Spanish friends, and Lorna’s Zumba class was putting us in touch with more of the locals.
“We’ll think about it, Antonio, but no promises,” we told him.
We were talking to Ricardo and Rita on Skype the day before the scheduled opening. “We’ll come,” they said. “We can keep you company.”
So we agreed, even though we still weren’t keen (especially as we had heard on the grapevine that Antonio might be playing his guitar!)
We arranged to meet the two Rs at a bar in Montoro called El Gordos so we could drive out to the country together. It seemed as though every other person there knew Ricardo from the past which involved much handshaking, back slapping and hugging. Then the Mayor and his entourage came in and it turned out that Ricardo even knew the Mayor. They had grown up together with Ricardo being taken in by the Mayor’s mother after the death of his own. There were lots of tears and laughter, and then Ricardo vanished for about 30 minutes. It turned out he had been whisked off to see the Mayor’s elderly mother. It was amazing. All this happened at about midnight!
After the excitement waned we set off for the bar, turned off the main road at the right exit but could see no lights or any sign of a party. It was a hot night - our temperature gauge in the car was reading 40 - and well past midnight now, so we were getting a little agitated. Ricardo stopped and talked to a farmer who was sitting by the roadside with his family in patio chairs trying to catch a breeze. He said to try around the corner. We edged around the undergrowth and saw what looked like the outside of a bar, but it was shrouded in darkness. As we crept further, we saw a camp fire in the middle of a courtyard. There were a few people around the fire, beers in hand, and we could see Antonio, complete with guitar. He saw us and beckoned us over.
“This is Baz,” he said, as a tall, gangly man ambled over. He had black, scruffy hair, and seemed to be a little bit worse for wear. We shook hands and Baz started to explain.
“Well,” he said, “I have had a really bad day. First of all the electricity was supposed to get connected this morning, and it wasn’t. Then the bloody kitchen caught fire. So the opening is sort of...off! But you are welcome to stay if you want, there are a few of us here.”
Keith was up a ladder fiddling with some electrical wires which I didn’t like the look of. Once he had been doing some work on our solar and had fallen off an eight-foot ladder, landing smack on his back and losing his memory. He didn’t know where he was, or even who he was. He did regain his composure enough to drive home a short while after, although I did follow him all the way to make sure he got there safely.
We were ushered towards a couple of chairs beside the fire (still 40 degrees by the way) and told to sit down. Food was about to be thrown on a grill and there were plenty of drinks. There was only our little group of four, Antonio, Baz, Keith and a couple of Spanish locals there, and they looked a little shady. Antonio was singing, badly, with his eyes closed swaying backwards and forwards. Ricardo and Rita looked aghast, so we quietly suggested that we leave and try to find somewhere to eat in town. We made our excuses and left. Baz didn’t seem all that bothered. There was something not quite right about the whole thing.
Soon after we saw Keith in town with Baz, who was carrying a small suitcase and looked as though he was making a quick getaway. He said that the owner of the property where the bar was located had suddenly kicked him out, leaving him with nowhere to live. It all seemed a little fishy, and we never saw Baz again. Soon after, Antonio vanished as well, although occasionally we hear whispers of a return or a scheme that seems to bear all of his hallmarks. Thankfully this hasn’t happened yet.
Chapter 20
Showtime
Alpacas have been in Andalucia for only a short time and in Andalucia, there are around 10 small farms, a few of which only keep a couple of males as pets. A small band of owners decided to form a society to get together occasionally and share methods and bright ideas. One of these meetings resulted in a plan to go to one of the agricultural shows that are held throughout Andalucia. These fairs are normally attended by farmers showing cows, sheep, goats or horses, and sometimes even chickens. But an alpaca had never been at any of these events and we all thought it would be a great opportunity to show these wonderful animals to the Spanish public.
On the day of the show, we headed down towards the beautiful town of Ronda, where it was being held, to stay with our new friends Justin and Kim for a night. Because of the distance, we had decided not to bring any of our alpacas but we were keen to be involved anyway. It was also a great opportunity for Lorna and I to get away together for a night. Because of the animals, we are not able to go away for longer. In the summer we cannot stay out overnight as it is so hot we need to be there to ensure the dogs and alpacas all have sufficient water.
At our meeting, we had agreed that we would work on the animals that would be there, making sure they were halter-trained and easy to handle. We had a judge from the UK and also flew in a judge from Peru who could speak Spanish.
We arrived at Justin and Kim’s house to find them already loading the alpacas onto the trailer, all with halters on and behaving pretty well. We greeted the couple and congratulated them on their achievements.
“How lovely to see you. Wow, how amazing is that? We haven’t been able to get ours to walk with halters on!”
“Luck!” said Justin, wiping his brow. “We’ve been trying for days and they haven’t moved, and Lilly keeps spitting at me. Today is the first time it’s gone right!”
“Amazing,” we said in unison.
We left the alpacas in the trailer and went to prepare for the short journey to the event in the centre of town. Justin and Kim told us about the problems they had been having training their alpacas, and in particular Lilly. Apparently Lilly has a bit of a hair-trigger on her spit reflex and if she thinks she is going to be handled, whether it be to have her toenails cut or an injection, her first reaction is to spit wildly.
“Funny you should say that,” I said. “We were watching a film the other day called Evan Almighty, and it had some alpacas in it. In the extra bits at the end, the animal trainer said that the alpacas in the film were the hardest animals he had ever worked with!”
“That figures,” grinned Justin.
When we arrived at the event, we were shown around the back where the animals could be unloaded, and then walked to the tent where the stalls were located. Once again, Lilly and Martina were stars. They walked proudly through the throngs of people, holding their heads high and enjoying the attention. As we walked, we could hear lots of “ooohs” and “ahhhs” as of course these animals are pretty rare in Spain. After we got them settled in their pens, we got ready to try and talk to anybody who came into the alpaca tent about why we keep them. It was quite an exhausting day as, even for the better Spanish speakers amongst us, it is an effort to converse in Spanish for hours on end. As the time approached for us to go in the show ring, the judge from the UK, an Australian living in Dorset, happened to mention to Justin that Lilly’s toenails looked a bit overgrown. Not wanting to be shown up in the ring, Justin grabbed me and asked for some help.
“If I hold Lilly, would you mind trimming her toenails, Alan?”
I didn’t mind: we had got used to trimming the girls’ toenails back at the Olive Mill so I was confident that as long as Justin could hold Lilly then I could do it. So in we went.
Justin and I cornered Lilly, and he grabbed hold of her. Now, Lilly i
s a big girl, about the same size as our Bermuda, and strong with it. As good as she had been all day, she obviously realised that something was going on. She was jumpy and the spit trigger was starting to work. Initially there was nothing to the spits, just air; Lilly was showing us who was boss. After a minute or two she seemed to calm down so, with Justin holding on for dear life, I made my move for her front foot. The next few seconds seemed to happen in slow motion. As I grabbed the foot and started to lift it towards me, Lilly turned her head towards Justin. For a split second there was a look of horror on his face as they came eyeball to eyeball. Then all went still for another second, followed by an almighty spit. This time, however, it was not just air; it was Lilly’s full armoury. At point-blank range. Justin’s face was covered, and I do mean covered, in green spit from the pit of Lilly’s stomach. Behind him on the canvas of the white tent was the outline of a man’s head, imprinted in green. Lilly removed her foot from my hand, and we decided her toenails would be OK after all.
A woman had stood watching as this scene unfolded. As we left the girls’ pen she approached. She was dressed in designer clothes with expensive-looking sunglasses.
“Hello, I’m Barbara,” she said. “I’ve just inherited 80 alpacas. I went to a farm in the north of Spain and agreed to buy a dozen animals, and a week later a lorry turned up with 80 of the damn things!” It turned out Barbara lived very close to Justin and Kim, and was keen to join the society to learn more about the animals and to try and sell some of her new herd.
For the rest of the day, things went a bit awry: in the show ring, we had animals sitting down, defecating and spitting on their handlers. Tom and Lucy, other alpaca friends of ours, had brought some males with them and one of them decided to try and ‘mate’ with Lucy when she bent down to tie her shoe laces.
All in all though the show went well and there were lots of interested locals who wanted to learn more about the animals. We, as owners however, decided collectively that we needed to do some more work with the alpacas before their next public outing to make them easier to handle.
Chapter 21
Training Time
When we returned to the Olive Mill, we arranged for Manuel, the vet, to come and do the annual blood tests. This would be the first time he had done it, and we had been getting in some practise and handling the alpacas as much as possible, even holding my portable hair clippers within range so they would get used to the noise. For about two weeks before Manuel was due, we religiously went out with the alpacas, holding and handling them. By the time the day came around, we were pretty happy with our progress and did not foresee too many problems.
That morning, I went and collected Manuel. We had talked about the difficulty of finding veins in alpacas and I had contacted a breeder in the US who had very kindly posted a video of a blood test on YouTube. This was useful in terms of the location of the vein, but the alpaca in the video was harnessed in about six different directions and so was unable to move at all. The situation was a little different here.
First up were the girls. They were penned in their stable, ready for Manuel. We grabbed hold of Cassandra, and he shaved a little patch on her side for the bTB (bovine tuberculosis, a standard test for livestock animals here in Spain) test, injected her with the tuberculin, followed by a quick neck shave and the withdrawing of a syringe full of blood. For the females, we were also taking a second sample to find out if they were carrying toxoplasmosis, which could have been the cause of Lily’s previous premature births. The second sample was taken and Cassandra was released. Lily followed and finally Bermuda, who made us most nervous. Bermuda is big and strong and likes to back herself against the wall. But she was as good as gold, cuddling her face against Lorna, and it was all over quickly.
Next up, the boys! Now, we knew they would be a bit more of a challenge, particularly Rafa and Santa. Santa is a kicker and Rafa is a jumper. Anytime we try and do anything he jumps about as if we are torturing him, then as soon as he is let go, he behaves as though nothing has happened. As predicted, Galaxy, Eduardo and Marcus were smooth sailors. Then it was Santa’s turn. I held him, warning Manuel to keep well clear of his back end. Santa was jumping and bucking and falling to the ground in what we call the ‘cush’ position. This was OK for Manuel to administer the tuberculin for the bTB test, but he really needed him up for the blood sample. We let go of Santa and as he got up, Manuel must have had a brief lapse of concentration and stepped behind him. All of a sudden, Santa’s leg shot out and caught him smack bang on the knee. Manuel jumped about, cursing in Spanish (the only words I could make out were mierda and madre mia). I got hold of Santa and held him tightly. Manuel managed to get some blood from his neck and we all breathed a sigh of relief.
Then came Rafa, our most nervous boy. After a few minutes of running around the pen, jumping and general pandemonium, he finally seemed to calm down and Manuel was able to shave and do the bTB test on his side. Now all that was left was the blood sample. By this time, I was holding Rafa by the neck and head while Lorna was attempting to hold his back down to prevent him from jumping while Manuel tried to get the needle in.
After a couple of failed attempts, I said, “Now, Manuel, I think he will be OK, do it now!”
He got in position and uncapped the needle. Still Rafa seemed calm. Whether Lorna and I took our eye off the ball, or maybe Rafa was too strong, but as Manuel inserted the needle Rafa jumped high, twisting as he did and head-butted Manuel. The crack could have been heard at the top of our olive grove!
“Oh my God! Are you alright, Manuel?” asked Lorna.
Manuel was on the ground, rubbing his head and looking a little dazed.
“Si, gracias, but I think we try this another day.”
He gathered his equipment together and left the alpaca paddock.
As luck would have it Juan, the ambulance driver who drove Lorna and I to the hospital, was passing by our house on his way back to town after checking the horses at his house in the campo. He stopped and offered Manuel a lift. Lorna mimed what had happened and asked Juan to keep an eye on him! We felt awful, but when we saw him later on that week he was fine, if a little sore.
That settled it for us: I hit the Internet to try and find solutions for difficult-to-handle alpacas. There were a variety of courses and handlers who claimed to be able to help, and I made contact with a lady called Julie from the UK, who was an instructor in a technique called ‘Camelidynamics’. This technique was all about the trust and relaxation of the animals which in turn would make husbandry an easier proposition all around for both parties. I sounded out the other members of the society and it was unanimously agreed that we could all do with the help, plus of course it gave us another reason to get together.
So, a few weeks later we descended on our new friend Barbara’s house. We met up with Justin, Kim, Tom and Lucy on the road so we could all follow each other. Barbara lived in a picturesque little village called Gaucin and we had heard that her property was magnificent.
As we pulled up to the ornate gates, they opened slowly on to a beautifully manicured courtyard and gardens. Straight away we could see the swimming pool area with its bar off to the side. The infinity pool was enormous and the view, well, it was to die for. Directly out to sea from the poolside you could see the rock of Gibraltar and on the clearest days apparently Morocco was even visible. The whole area felt a bit like an episode of The X Factor when the contestants visit the judges’ houses and have to perform their final song, normally while Simon Cowell lounges by the pool.
Barbara came out to greet us with her hair pinned up, apron on and obviously sweating from working in the kitchen.
“Hello darlings, welcome to my little pad,” she said with an air of irony. “Please come in. Excuse all the cushions on the floor, one of the cats pissed on the sofa!”
Barbara is one of those people who, although she can afford nice things and lives in a beautiful house, still has her feet very firmly planted on the ground. We really like her for
that, and we always feel welcome at her home.
“Julie is already here, and we are set up in the stables! Grab a drink and follow me down.”
Drinks were served by Barbara’s husband, Graham, who had appeared from nowhere to man the poolside bar. This place was like heaven. We headed down to the stables where a small classroom had been set up. We spent the first couple of hours working through the theory of ‘camelidynamics’, exploring the different techniques for holding alpacas and learning where they are comfortable to be touched. Shortly after this introduction we were all keen to get ‘hands-on’ with some of Barbara’s animals!
First though, we were told to get into our couples and practice something called ‘T-touching’, designed to relax and calm the alpacas by using specific pressing and massaging methods. We were blindfolded, one at a time, and asked to practice on our similarly blindfolded partners. Once we had mastered it, we had to show Julie by demonstrating it on her. This caused much hilarity and joking as we were all a little embarrassed.
We then had to practice on the animals. Now, the Spanish group of alpaca farmers fell very much into the ‘corner, lunge and grab’ brigade of handlers. Julie was trying to teach us something completely different. Each couple was allocated a pen, and one was told to go inside with two or three alpacas. These alpacas had been pretty much untouched by humans and were a little on the wild side.
Julie handed out catch ropes and some plastic sticks with bulldog clips on the end. A piece of rope was attached to the bulldog clip. This meant that it was possible to reach around to the other side of the alpaca with getting in its eye line. Once the rope was around the neck of the alpaca it was possible bring the two ends of the rope together and slowly take control of the animal. Well, already this proved more effective than cornering our animals and trying to pounce on them. In a small contained area, this technique proved masterful and all the alpacas were soon under control, standing with each handler calmly.