Maybe there’s an epidemic of escaped pack llamas wandering the high San Juans.
Because when an elk hunter high up on Cow Creek near Ridgway was finally able to step on the dragging lead rope of the llama Lisa Balcomb watched run away from her two months ago, the hunter had a few questions.
Are we sure this is yours? What does yours look like?
For the record: Clavio the willful llama is, and always has been, dark brown with a white chest and neck. Also, that halter and the woeful dangling lead rope should have been a dead giveaway.
Turns out the elk hunter did have his man, er, llama, and by texting from nearly off the grid and relaying messages through the Ouray County sheriff, Balcomb learned that long-lost Clavio was back in her life. As indifferent to human love, apparently, as ever, but none the worse for the high mountain holiday.
Clavio’s meh return to human contact means Balcomb is now llama-complete once again.
She originally lost her backpacking companions Clavio (“Vio” to his friends, assuming he has any) and Cisneros on July 27, when they were attacked by a shepherd’s dog and ran off at about 12,000 feet. Cisneros wandered downhill a few weeks ago, to graze as if he belonged at a ranch outside Ridgway, much to the surprise of the cowboys doing morning chores.
The search remained on for Clavio, who like Cisneros had been seen periodically in the distance by hikers and hunters visiting the rugged, remote area of the San Juans that features emerald green sheep meadows surrounded by towering fourteeners. Balcomb is from Silt, a few hours’ drive north of the San Juans gateway towns Ridgway and Lake City. She returned once in a while to check on recent sightings with her husband, or with her sister, who had been on the original five-day packing trip where they’d lost the llamas while fending off the dog attack.
Once the sheriff and the elk hunter confirmed they had the right suspect in custody, Balcomb drove a trailer down to Ridgway and up the Cow Creek Forest Service roads Oct. 27. When she got to the hunting camp, the heroic hunter was off in search of game but had left Clavio tied securely to a tree.
The reunion was more “Curb Your Enthusiasm” than “Born Free” or “Milo & Otis.” If Clavio leaned his long neck into a hug, Balcomb couldn’t tell.
“These are work animals, right?” Balcomb said later. “You know, they’ve been bred and raised that way. They’re our partners. They’re not our pets. He looked up when I talked to him and everything. But he wasn’t like, ‘Yay!’ He was pretty happy where he was.”
But he didn’t resist, either, Balcomb was relieved to see.
“He was loving the idea of getting in the horse trailer, because he smelled the other llamas that had been in it,” Balcomb said. “He was like, ‘Yeah, I’m getting in there.’ It was so great and such a relief.”
With her own llamas now retired, Balcomb rents Clavio and Cisneros from a distant ranch to use in the summers. Clavio was readjusting to ranch life at the Balcombs this week before heading back to his home ranch — Balcomb’s husband and co-driver for long hauls was off on his own hunting trip.
As she spends the winter planning next summer’s packing adventures, Balcomb is staying warm on the glow from all the spotters and animal lovers who reached out after seeing Clavio and Cisneros on the good side of social media, whether 14ers.com or Instagram.
“It was nice to have had all the people that were helpful and caring, and calling and wondering how everything was going, all people we didn’t know, just because it was out there so much through different media,” she said.
Clavio, for his part, is neither traumatized nor bragging, though of course it’s hard to tell.
“I’m glad he’s safe and he was not any worse for wear,” Balcomb said. “I don’t even think he lost a half a pound.”
Link to original article