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“They are having their breakfast and will be out in the pasture in a bit. In the meantime, why don’t you follow me?”
We followed Cindy down a dirt path toward a red barn with white trim. “Alpacas are part of the camel family,” Cindy said, as we made our way into the barn. “Kind of like cousins. Do you know another animal that is like their cousin?”
“Llamas!” Gio exclaimed, then slapped a hand over his mouth.
Cindy laughed. “You don’t have to be quiet. I love your enthusiasm, and you are right.”
“Alpacas are smaller than llamas. Llamas also have longer faces than the alpaca and larger ears. Alpacas are also more timid and relaxed. While llamas were used as protectors, the alpaca was used for their high-quality fiber.” Cindy walked to a basket and pulled out what I assumed was alpaca wool. “Here, feel this.” She bent to Gio’s height and held the wool out to him.
“It’s soft,” he said.
“That it is. I then turn this into yarn, and I make hats and sweaters and blankets and anything else you can think of.”
“That’s so cool.”
“I think so.”
“Feel it, Quinn! Feel it.”
Cindy handed me the wool, and I took it in my hand, noticing the detail and the luxury quality of the wool.
“How much yarn does one alpaca yield?” I asked.
“Great question. It ranges, but a hundred-and-fifty-pound alpaca can yield anywhere from five to ten pounds of wool.”
“That’s a lot, right Quinn?” Gio glanced up at me with those big brown eyes.
I ruffled his hair, and he dodged out of my hand. “That is a lot.”
“How did you get into this line of business?” I asked, curious about how one started making things from alpaca hair.
“Funny thing. I was a pilot for thirty years, and when I retired eight years ago, I bought this place, acquired my first alpaca, and never looked back. Now I have five alpacas, probably more to come, a horse, chickens, a rescued pig, and a goat that makes me question my sanity.”
“A pilot. That’s amazing.” I was scared to make the move out of Ohio and start over at my age, and this woman had started a whole other career after thirty years.
“It was an amazing career, but I’m happy to keep my feet planted on the ground with my alpacas now. Besides, they keep it interesting.”
“Are we ever going to see the alpacas?” Gio whined.
“Gio, we have to be patient,” I said, but Cindy laughed.
“I made you wait long enough, huh?”
“You have.”
“I appreciate your honesty. Come along.” Cindy brought us to another barn, this one made of natural wood and much more modern than the red barn. If I had to guess, the old red barn was an original dwelling, while this barn was much more recent.
Cindy stepped inside, and five sets of curious alpaca eyes greeted us.
Gio gasped in delight, and a woman stepped out from the stall. “Hi, there.”
“Gio, Quinn, this is my daughter, Addy.”
The woman who couldn’t have been older than thirty-five was beautiful with hair the same shade as her mother’s. While her nose was narrower and her chin more defined, she looked just like her mother.
“Well, hello there,” Addy said. “And welcome to our little farm. You picked a great day to come. We don’t have any tours or summer camps scheduled this morning.”
“Should I have made a reservation?” I asked, trying to recall everything I had read on the website.
