KUMEU A&H SHOW12th MARCH

by Raewyn McKenzie

Despite the morning being wet, the obstacle course was set up and the decision made to proceed. Fortunately, we were able to delay the start until it had stopped raining which meant that people did stand around outside to see what we were going to do with these lovely animals. Even though they had been patiently standing in the pens to be admired, it was good to be able to show that they actually DO something.

The judge was Penny King and I acted as steward, so the participants were all young people and we set the programme to suit. (Jack and Maisie Hurst arrived later and, of course, they are wonderfully young!)

The official results are:

Junior (10 and under)

1      Emily Wilton and Lladro

2=   Elliot Wilton and Kabballa

2=  Keegan McLeod and Kazan

3      Clark McLeod and Magnus

Intermediate (11 plus)

 1      Kim Dawson and Kabballa

2      Thomas Wilton and Kazan

3 =   Charlotte Wilton and Lladro

3=  Tom Foster and Southerly

We decided it would be interesting for the audience to see just how easy llamas are to handle and invited them to take the llamas over the obstacle course. I lost count of how many people, both young and old, wanted to do so. The llamas were all wonderfully behaved and it was the best PR you could wish for! NZ Idol Judge Jacquie Clark and her two young sons were thrilled to do the obstacle course and someone even phoned in to a local radio station and said the highlight of their weekend had been walking a llama at the Kumeu Show.

Thanks again go to Penny for her organisation of what was a great day enjoyed by participants, helpers, bystanders and lots of very happy llama converts.

Camelid Branch Formation

By Mana Stratton, Tasman Bay Vets, Motueka

      With the growing number of llamas and alpacas in NZ the NZ Veterinary Association (NZVA) has finally seen the importance of forming the Camelid Branch of the NZVA.  Earlier this year we held our first meeting and seven vets have the task of getting the branch up and running, myself included. 

     Our mission statement is "To form a network of like-minded vets to
provide a high quality service for the veterinary profession and camelid owners in New Zealand".  Within our first year we plan to hold two workshops, one in the North Island and one in the South Island for upskilling other vets interested in camelids.  We are also trying to set up a contact vet in each region who has an interest in camelids that other vets may call.  Other aims are to improve the knowledge of new graduates from Massey and form closer links with the Australian Alpaca vets association.

     Currently the camelid branch is being largely funded by the Alpaca Association so naturally there is a strong alpaca focus.  However, we all strongly agreed that we are to be a camelid branch to support all camelids.   The good news is we already have a lot of vets interested in the camelid branch.  As I have been assigned the job of llama association liason person I will keep you posted.

BVD in alpacas – the New Zealand perspective

Kim Rutherford, Central Southland Vets Winton

Camelid Vets Branch NZVA

There has recently been a lot of concern amongst American alpaca owners in regards to the emergence of BVD in alpacas. BVD, or Bovine Viral Diarrhoea , is caused by a virus. In cattle, as in alpacas it causes illness (including fever, ill thrift, pneumonia, discharge from the eyes and nose, and often but not always diarrhoea), abortion and most importantly the birth of persistently infected, or PI animals. Not all alpacas with the disease have a history of contact with cattle. However it is likely this is how the disease first enters an alpaca population. From that point PI animals are the main source of infection. 

There are hundreds of different strains of BVDV, but these are simply classified under Type 1 (BVDV1) or type 2 (BVDV2). BVDV 1 has a worldwide distribution, however BVDV2 is currently restricted to the USA .The most important thing to note is that BVDV 2 is causing problems in alpacas in America, and this is not thought to be present in NZ at all (in any species)  The main causes of cattle BVD in New Zealand is by the TYPE 1 viruses.  It is also thought that Type 1 viruses are less pathogenic, or harmful, than those of Type 2.

It is thought that the most important impact on the American alpaca industry is the birth of these persistently infected cria, that shed huge amounts of virus for its whole life and is a major cause of the spread of BVD. Some PI animals develop ‘mucosal disease’, which is seen as ill thrift or ‘poor doers’, severe diarrhoea and death before 1 year of age. It is not known what proportion of PI alpacas will develop mucosal disease, as there are plenty of PI animals in America who are clinically normal.

The only way an animal becomes a PI is in utero, or as an unborn cria, which occurs when a female alpaca is first exposed to the virus in early-mid pregnancy. Infection with BVDV occurs through the nose and mouth by contact with secretions from an infected animal, usually a PI animal. These secretions include saliva, nasal discharge, tears, urine and faeces. This can also occur via items contaminated with the secretions such as water troughs, halters etc. An acutely infected animal which is NOT a PI sheds the virus for only up to 2 weeks, while a PI will shed for its whole life.

The virus only survives for 2 weeks in the environment, and the incubation period is only 5-7 days. Antibiotics have NO EFFECT on this virus, although they are sometimes used to prevent secondary infections caused by bacteria due to the negative effect the virus has on the immune system. Animals once identified as PI’s should be either euthanased or completely isolated.

Another confusing factor is that it is not known how prevalent the BVDV is in the population, as adults can look normal and be in fact positive to antibodies (or have prior exposure) to BVDV. In a survey in Peru in 2002 11.5% of alpacas in Cusco had antibodies to BVD. In Feb 2006 at least 40 PI alpacas were known in North America, found using virus isolation techniques. Because a cria born a PI does not show any signs of illness for several months or longer, it is possible there is potential for BVD to spread between farms when females go to other farms for breeding.

Testing for BVD is not simple, but to screen a herd for the virus all females should be checked for antibody (indicating previous exposure to the BVDV) before birthing and all crias born to females that have become antibody positive during pregnancy tested to detect PI’s. The presence of antibody in the mother DOES NOT mean the cria will be a PI, it means she has been exposed to the virus at some stage, hence actual virus isolation is the best test. Either PCR (polymerase chain reaction) or Virus isolation can be undertaken on a blood or tissue sample. A negative result at one time in the life of the animal makes it unlikely the animal is a PI but does not preclude the possibility that the animal could become infected with the BVDV at some later stage.  However testing pre-shows or movement will make the show safer for all entered. All aborted foetuses and stillborn cria, as well as unexpected deaths with scouring, should be autopsied and tested for BVDV.

On farm bio-security measures should involve quarantining all alpacas that come to the farm or return from untested locations for a minimum of 30 days. A vaccine for cattle does exist, although it is not 100% effective and is costly. It is currently being discussed in America whether to allow the use of this vaccine in alpacas.

Currently NZ laboratories only offer an antibody test for alpacas, not virus isolation, and these tests are not validated meaning they cannot certify their accuracy due to the fact they are not used very often (once in the last 2 or 3 years). However, they are shortly going to have PCR capabilities and may extend this into virus isolation. The kits they use for testing are also thought to only test for BVDV1, and more often it is BVDV2 that is causing the disease in alpacas overseas.

In summary, there is a very low risk that alpacas in New Zealand will become infected with the BVDV, and if it does occur it is most likely through importation of PI animals from the Americas. Hence, while not over-reacting we should remain cautious about the movement of animals, and keep up to date with findings in America as they come to hand.

One of the reasons we have formed the Camelid Vet Group is so we can keep up to date with overseas experiences, and ensure alpaca owners in this country are informed about issues that are important to the local situation.

FROM THE LLAMA’S LIPS

By Percy Llama

PercyLlama@xtra.co.nz

I guess as most of you reading this article co-habit your patch with llamas, you will already know that we are adept at communicating our feelings, both to each other and to you, our two-legged minders.  We can do this easily with facial expressions, body language and postures, but also by using a wide variety of sounds.  If you guys are going to understand us better, you really need to tune in to all our ways of communication, but here I am going to confine my comments to the various sounds we llamas produce.

It is commonly believed that we hum, but this is but one of a diverse range of sounds that we make including growls, snorts, clucks, screams, squeaks, orgles, grunts, sighs, alarm calls and many others.  All llamas know instinctively what these many sounds mean, though often we choose to pretend we don’t if we can gain some advantage by doing so.  If you want to hear a few llama sounds and to read the human interpretation of them, check out the audio on http://personal.smartt.com/~brianp/allsounds.html.  (Please keep the volume down if your llamas are within earshot as some of the language used by our Canadian buddies is quite shocking!)  Of course there are also regional dialects.  I sometimes think that the young North Islander in my herd comes from another planet when he doesn’t choose to comprehend my warning snorts at meal times.  In addition, our lady friends gossip, discuss family matters and exchange small-talk amongst themselves, crias engage in all sorts of baby talk and, on occasions, macho males can talk really mean to each other.

Humming is supposedly the most common sound we make and certainly has the greatest diversity of meaning. Yet, contrary to common belief, humming is very rarely used in my herd.   In common with all llamas, we only hum if we are concerned, distressed, worried, tired or uncomfortable.  When we do hum, however, this soft, moaning noise is quite unambiguous.  Viewed in the context of the situation, most humming is easily interpreted.  Personally, a hum has not passed my lips since I was a cria, but after their arrival on our place the young ‘uns, just separated from their mums and playmates, made this sound intermittently for several months.  This is totally understandable as their world had just been turned upside down and everything that they had known had been removed. In other situations the sound you guys call humming can be a female calling to her cria, an attention-seeking call meaning ‘hey, take a look at this’, or a quizzical ‘what the heck is that/going on here?’ sound.  Once mature, some llamas never hum or indeed make any vocal sounds at all, whilst others may be very talkative. When humming is used, however, it has a subtlety and diversity of tone and intonation that you humans as yet seem barely to grasp.

In my herd it is the other llama sounds that are commonplace and used to good effect to warn, get what we want, or express impatience or exasperation.  Each day from about 3.00 pm onwards, my mate Julius will call to which ever minder he sees to suggest that surely mealtime must be about now.  He does this with a strident, high-pitched squeal emitted ventriloquist-like with no visual sign.  Loosely translated this squeal says “oy, get yourself down here with some lucerne, pronto!”   I don’t know where he learned this call, but I am sure glad that he did as it works a treat.  Argyll, in contrast, says almost nothing vocally at any time but shows his impatience at feeding times by sighing loudly and repeatedly until the hay distributors get to his trough.  This gruff sound is accompanied by a loud expulsion of air from deep within his massive chest. It sounds most like the noise the minders make when I object to having my toenails trimmed, or when they discover that Amadeus has forgotten his toilet training again.  It is the sound of serious exasperation!  Ollie, by contrast, grunts loudly and with increasing frustration as he pursues the pellet distributor around the Lodge.  If ever there was a call for llama Valium this is it.  Even dumb humans cannot help but understand the sounds of llama impatience.  Once settled and eating, however, Ollie makes endearing little whimpering sounds to express his delight at finding a particularly tasty morsel.  These sounds of ecstasy can rapidly change to warning grunts and snarls if a raider approaches.

Clucking is the speciality sound of our herd sentinel, Mr. Bojangles, and is a sound akin to tongue clicking by humans.  It can be used as a sign of disapproval or annoyance, or when meeting new herd members or, in the case of our man, as an alerting call.  In his case it is accompanied by much puffing out of cheeks, intermittent snorting and much fleet-footed dashing about and posturing with both head and tail raised.  This is a category 2 alert to the herd that he has spotted something of which we had all better be aware, such as strangers entering our territory or a flock of quail passing through.  It matters very little to him that most of us have probably seen this intrusion before he did and just kept on grazing.  Still, we are glad that he takes his job seriously and has mastered this alerting call.

When a category 1 alert is sounded, however, we all react in nanoseconds, leaping to our feet and clustering together for safety.  The true alarm call, which differs in male and female llamas, is a distinctive, loud, sharp, rhythmic sound with an eerie tone.  It has only been used once in our herd when our diligent sentinel llama spotted an errant local dog slinking into our territory under cover of the long grass in a gully.  Our response was a concerted chest butting of the nearest fence by five of us, an action which sent the dog off smartly.

Then there is the snort.  This sound is made by a sharp expulsion of air from the nostrils and is available at any time on demand.  It is primarily an attention-seeking noise, though it might sometimes be genuinely necessary to clear dusty nasal passages.  All llamas make this sound at some time but some, such as our mate Hairy Maclary, make a party piece of it.   His snorts can be heard regularly throughout the day and allow us to monitor his movements easily without line of sight.  There is no need for GPS or Trackers with his guy.  His favourite trick is to walk quietly up behind one of the minders, place his head within inches of their ears and then let rip with one of his biggest and best snorts.  It’s an effect somewhat akin to tuning a tuba on someone’s shoulder.  He then seems to grin with delight before pushing forward to have his rear end massaged. Little blighter, he’s riding for a fall that one!

More serious llama sounds are the growl and the orgle.  The growl is a menacing, deep-throaty roar reminiscent of the sounds made by a kushing pack dromedary.  My number two, Amadeus, developed this highly intimidating sound to discipline the two young boys in his crèche. The first time we heard it we were shocked but now we, and they, know it is mostly bluster.  The orgle, in contrast, is an exclusively male sound and indicates intent, arousal and ultimately satisfaction.   It is an insistent, extremely loud gargling sound.  Poor Julius still makes this sound occasionally two years after he was decommissioned, so for him it is a sound of frustration.   You will find an example of this llama sound on the web site I mentioned above, but we all think it is mildly pornographic and recommended for a mature audience only.  (As this is a family newsletter, parental control is essential.)   I ask you, would this audio be on open access if it involved humans?

And what about me, I hear you ask.  What sounds do I make?  Well, in truth mostly I let my considerable bulk do the talking.  One steadfast stare is worth a thousand hums, I reckon, but I do have a unique repertoire of effective sounds as well.  My throaty ‘ooff ooff’ sound emitted when more hay is placed in my trough is always a winner with the minders. Less popular is the crescendo of churring I make, with turned and raised head, when another llama comes close to my rear end, tries to sniff my food or interferes when I am enjoying my daily grooming routine with the male minder.  The same warning sound is very effect in warding off other herd members when I stand across the doorway of the Lodge to demonstrate my authority over use of this facility.  This sound is a warning, and those who persist know that it can be the precursor to something much worse if it is ignored.  It reinforces my status as herd leader and demands respect.  I also use a long and particularly high-pitched squeal, which belies my bulk, to repel those who persistently invade my social space. My minders seem to believe that this sound owes much to my early decommissioning, but we won’t go there.

Then, of course, there are the involuntary, non-vocal llama sounds. One of my mates perpetually gurgles and burps like a blocked drain.  These sounds are especially effective when the minders try to have a hongi with him.  Also, when we reach around and sort out an itch, there is the distinctive chattering noise of teeth and jaws on fleece.  The ultimate sounds in this category are those that send the minders into a frenzy of furtive glances and worried looks.  We all make these sounds at one time or another, usually when turning to sort out an itch and often with a hind leg raised.  However, I am the undisputed maestro of this particular noise.  Sometimes when eating I get dust up my nose or swallow too hastily and this causes me to sneeze or choke violently.  Each violent lowering of my head and neck is invariably accompanied by a synchronous raising and lowering of my tail and by associated sound effects.  As with all things, I perform this ‘both ends at once’ stereo sound duet with great gusto and considerable flamboyance.  I do not fully understand the connection, but rather than inducing sympathy from my minders such virtuoso performances usually make them giggle, then cringe and start muttering about a flatulence tax being the ruin of them.  Certainly in full surround sound this event makes my mates seem like mutes.