Pampe escaped her pasture in 2 unprecedented ways this month, and I know she would want me to let everyone know.
First of all I saw her trotting towards the drinking trough the other day and something about her determined ears and the malevolent glint in her eyes didn’t match her wholesome destination, so I stood there watching warily, and—she jumped. I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it, the trough is like 1.80m long and full of water and it’s sandwiched between a tree and the fence. It forms a natural moat-like barrier, or so I thought. She just jumped the whole length of it. It’s a long jump!! I heard a splash when her back hoof landed in the water, which would have cost her a few points in a llama show jumping event, but still it was impressive, she just did this:
Fortunately, on the other side of the trough is my neighbour’s pasture and I know he doesn’t mind if my llama occasionally squats it in the winter. Still, I make a big show of being displeased when I find Pampe there by herself, so she continues thinking she’s trespassing. I let her graze for a while then I pretend I’m only just noticing her and I’m like gasp, hands-on-hips “PAMPÉRIGOUSTE!! You know you’re not allowed in here!” and she trots back to her own pasture like hehehe and this way I make sure she doesn’t try another, actually-forbidden pasture farther away.
And secondly—I’d already noticed last month that she had discovered how to use her long neck to go over the gate and fiddle with the latch. You’d think the latch would be safe since it’s outside, but no. She hasn’t figured out how to open it yet, but she knows it holds the secret to freedom. And yesterday I forgot to close the latch and she immediately noticed, because apparently she checks several times a day. I looked out the window and saw her like this:
I figured she’d stay near the house and eat some brambles, I didn’t have time to deal with her right now so I leant out the window and shouted COME BACK then considered I had done my best and went back to what I was doing. But then I went outside half an hour later and Pampe was nowhere to be seen—and there was a big plume of smoke on the horizon. Rationally it could only be a distant neighbour burning green waste, but my first thought was “… what has she done now.” I was fully ready to accept that my problem llama was also an arsonist, and pictured myself haltering her and leading her to someone’s door to make her apologise for setting their barn on fire.
I guess I wouldn’t put it past you to see some crossbars and fence-fixing tools stored in a barn and assume you’re looking at a fence factory, and bomb it.
