The Alpaca That Stopped Smiling: A Big Scare, A Team Effort, And A Happy Ending

Not every story from this job is funny. Some of them just stick with you.

I showed up for a routine check-in and found one of the alpacas down on its side in the field. It was responsive — eyes open, head up, clearly aware I was there — but it could not, or would not, stand. Couldn't get it to sit upright on its own either. The owners were out of reach, somewhere far away with no easy way to call back and forth, which meant the next move was on me.

First call was to a friend of theirs with real livestock experience — a guy named Taylor, who showed up ready to help and turned out to be exactly the kind of person you want next to you in a moment like that. Calm, capable, didn't waste time. Together we built a makeshift stall out of hay bales, just enough structure to prop the alpaca upright and keep it stable and comfortable while we figured out what came next. I grabbed some fresh apples from the orchard, cut them down into small pieces, and got the alpaca eating. It wasn't a fix, but it was something — a sign of life, a little fight still in there.

The next day, the alpaca was alive, but no better. Still down, still not standing, and neither Taylor nor I could pin down what was actually wrong. That's a hard place to sit in — doing everything you know how to do, and still not having an answer.

Eventually we got in touch with a woman with serious, deep experience with alpacas, the kind of knowledge that only comes from years of it. She came out, took over its care, and worked with it until it pulled through. It was old, and it stayed weak even after recovering, so the decision was made to rehome it somewhere it could live out the rest of its life without the demands of the herd — a quiet, shady, grassy yard with a family who adores it.

I still get updates on that alpaca. It's living its best life on a second lease nobody saw coming the day it went down in that field.

I won't pretend that stretch wasn't hard on me. When an animal's struggling and you can't fix it yourself, and the people who love it are too far away to even be told what's happening in real time, it weighs on you. It should weigh on you. That's not a flaw in doing this job — it's the whole reason I'm any good at it. I care, fully, every time, and this is what that looks like when it gets put to the test.

This one didn't end in a funny story. It ended in a good one.

— Jack Riordan, Oregon Farm Hand