Sunday, May 8, 2005

6:30 p.m. Day 3 6:40:29 PM    comment [] Cavalry arrived just as I was at my lowest ebb. Self-pity swallowing me up. N turned up at the door in rain slicker with walking stick, and I crawled back into outdoor gear, followed him out, tracked the llamas down. Herded them in easily. Just one other person. That's all I needed. Then we put up barriers, hiked over here and found a healthy roll of barbed wire, fenceposts, back to the pasture and past the defeated disloyal ungrateful grouchy camellids, me grouchier in my blisters and aches than anyone, and in the drenching rain we put up a tight two strands of barbed wire across the gaps. No more escapes from that direction. There's another gap up here where the bridge was washed out, but the mud is too deep yet to repair it. I hope that Fernando and Lorenzo will avoid deep mud until tomorrow, when maybe I can throw down old pieces of plywood here and there and reach the gap to fill it in with more posts and wire. 5:31:04 PM    comment [] Couldn't get the llamas back through after running around them with my brother, who doesn't understand what we're doing. I had him empty the collapsed stone jack. I worked on the fence all morning, mud sucking at my shins every step. Rain intermittant. Finally sealed it off. Llamas staying near. I made a gate opening for them, left Brian there with the tools, and trekked back around and out and across the bridge and back over home. Made lunch. Coffee. Phone call. No one home to help. Back down to bridge and around and back to Brian. Gave him sandwiches. Llamas visible about 1/2 mile north on the road. Hike out and around and downhill toward them. Sweet-talking through clenched teeth. Chasing. Herding. So close. Swerving. Back. Chasing. Herding. Close. Swerving. Llamas running upslope along the fenceline. Me running out and around but not outpacing them. At the end of the fence line they turned south and up and up and gone. I hope they like their new home. I'm headed for shower. Band-aids. Hot tea and blankets and Kleenex. Later: Sniffling. It's pouring out. For a while I could see the llamas back our way, on the slope, grazing. There's no way for them to get back into the pasture from that side. I have to dress and go out and down to the bridge and over and back and open the gate at this end so they can go in. And run to the far side to close the gap I left open there when we were herding. Miles of running. And I can't move. I hurt all over and I can't move. And now I don't see them anymore. And the rain is falling steadily. If I novelized this in the third person it would be a ripping yarn. But because I'm first person, and it's real, and it's Mother's Day, and and and it's just pathetic. I apologize. 12:47:12 PM    comment [] 9 a.m.: Day 3 9:26:32 AM    comment [] From yesterday: 9:19:01 AM    comment []

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