Uncle Bob, our beloved llama, died late Sunday evening from injuries incurred from a tree falling in his pen around one o'clock Sunday morning. Ironically, we were camping out on the property for a test run with Webb when Mom and Sarah Grace were awakened by a crashing noise. Although they assumed it was a fallen tree somewhere on the property, it did not occur to them that the noise came from the vicinity of the animal pens.
Early the next morning, while planting in the garden, Sarah Grace noticed the fallen tree across the fencing, and when she entered the pen she realized Uncle Bob was not getting up. He lived through the day while we treated him with anti-inflammatory injections and pain killers in hopes that he would survive. Unfortunately, it turned out to be a spinal injury for which there is no treatment.
We want to sincerely thank Spencer for all the years of great care he gave to our "World's Worst Llama," as he called him. Spence daily fought Widget, our bratty and covetous Nubian goat, to keep her away from Bobby's food. All the while Uncle Bob would casually eat at his own aloof pace while watching Spencer spend himself for his dining pleasure.
Our Uncle Bob was the recipient of much affection and the giver of none to us, just to the spring babies, but, oh, how he loved them! He spent his last day spitting on us like never before, to our amusement, while we tried to save his life. It never deterred us from our unrequited love for him. He was our Uncle Bob.
excerpt from caker.diaryland.com:
Today is a big work day but I'm taking a break.
Uncle Bob, our llama, is a cool dude. He was bred to protect sheep and goats. Don't ask me how they do it, but he is born with a talent to take care of them.
When we brought the sick lamb with the black polka dot and her momma up to the trailer in the carport, I thought Uncle Bob was going to jump the fence. He darted back and forth and back and forth along the fence with his neck stretched out trying to see them. Normally he runs like Pepe Le Pew with a boingy boingy hop but when he was worried, he sped very fast like Dash in "The Incredibles." We were just taking them to a safe place together to nurse the lamb since she was dying and we were trying to save her but Uncle Bob didn't understand that. He cried and fretted for them. He acted like they were married.
When a liitle lamb was born last week, Uncle Bob stood up very straight in front of the momma to block our view.
Mrs. Maury said when a wild dog got in her pasture, her llama pinned it down and gutted it. I know Uncle Bob would do the same thing if the girls were in danger.
When baby lambs are born, Uncle Bob goes over and keeps watch. He sniffs them and nudges them to stand up and go to momma. He circles them to keep them from wandering away. He also gently lifts their legs to get them going. He is a very good nanna. He lets the babies climb on his back and topple off and climb up and topple off over and over again.
I started calling Uncle Bob "Lieutenant Bob" since the new babies got here and I salute him. I call Crumpet, our castrated ram "2nd Lieutenant" because he's tender with the babies too. He lets them take naps with him.
excerpt from caker.diaryland.com:
Hey Everybody! It's me, John, again! That's right, it's me again!
Whenever it's hot and we spray Uncle Bob with the hose, he jumps up and follows the spray of water around with a big smile on his face and his ears perk up.
Here's a picture of Uncle Bob just standing there. Bobby needs a hairbrush.
Also, here's a picture of us building his new shelter next to the one we made out of a straw bin. That was just in the meantime until we could build his new digs. I'm the one on my knees hammering.