Llama Llust
A trek through the Palisades country can turn into a ‘Llove Story’

"THIS is Hobo," Lindy Huber told me. "He’ll be your llama today." His fuzzy ears pricked forward and I could tell that he listened as I said his name. Hesitantly, I touched the long, sturdy neck. His wool was surprisingly soft, a mottling of cream and brown. Black and brown spots dappled his legs and head. A pronounced underbite revealed three teeth which crooked up, pointing toward his wide nose. No question, his was a homely head. And then I came eye-to-eye with one of his huge dark orbs and it emanated kindness. He hummed softly. And right there, I fell in love with a llama.

I was at Seldom Scene Farm, deep in Woodford County’s river country, ready to embark on my first llama trek. A warm May sun shone as Lindy and her new farm manager, Robert Brandon, strapped saddles and panniers, or packs, on the llamas. We set out, a friend and I each leading a laden llama, with Robert at the head of a yearling named Coyote. This cute little guy was learning the trekking ropes and only would accompany us. Soon he’ll tote a light day pack. Once his bones become strong at two, he’ll carry a regular saddle and panniers.

Turns out Hobo and his buddy Rookie were given to the Hubers by one of the country’s first breeders, the Great Northern Llama Company, which built an enormous log cabin from proceeds ($150,000) of the sale of the first high-priced llama ever sold. Taller than most because early gelding caused their bones to grow longer, the Huber’s two animals were veteran trekkers in Montana’s Glacier National Park. Now 14 and 16 years old, respectively, they no longer can carry heavy packs up mountain terrain, but are still fit for day hiking.

During the course of our four-hour trek, we walked our llamas past an historic farmhouse, through fields, along farm roadways and woodland paths that ribbon the 400-acre property. Twelve years ago, Paul Huber, who owns Central Equipment Company, a Lexington farm equipment supplier, spied the land from a canoe on the Kentucky River. After purchasing a part of it as a dirt bike getaway, he began spending so much time there, he was "seldom seen" at work. Thus the name.

About five years ago, the Hubers bought a female llama to take backpacking with them in the Smokies and eventually sold her offspring for a bit of profit. "We really loved them anyway," Lindy said, "but after Paul realized money could be made, they became even more appealing."

As adjoining property came available, the couple added parcels. Their rolling acreage, rife with deer, wild turkeys and other wildlife, now boasts three miles of Kentucky River frontage.

After marveling at splendid palisades views, we stopped for lunch at a wooded campsite. As the serene, dignified llamas sat quietly nearby and Farley, a bulky, sweet Great Pyrenees patiently waited for plate scrapings, we gorged on grilled chicken and steak, luscious sugar snap peas and couscous. We then rustled up sticks to toast marshmallows over the campfire for s’mores, which were every bit as gooey and chocolatey as I’d remembered as a Girl Scout.

"It’s amazing how many kids have never been in the woods," Lindy said, "or have never even toasted a marshmallow. It’s a great opportunity here. And with the llamas, such large animals that are so foreign, it’s really a unique experience."

Short of the most stifling of summer days (heat bothers the llamas), Seldom Scene is open all year to host church youth groups, scout troops, disabled classes and even seniors, tailoring the trek’s difficulty to fit the needs of adults and kids age seven and up. Huber llamas will even take couples on romantic wine and cheese treks, or celebrants on birthday treks.

Average groups, ranging from two to eight hikers, should call at least a day early, while larger parties should reserve ahead. The adult fee of $40 and children’s of $10 includes a four-hour hike, cool drinks and one delicious, hearty meal.

Another part of the novelty that makes trekking at Seldom Scene such a treat is passing by and through pastures that are home to the rest of the Hubers’ menagerie, some of which are boarders. The brood includes 20 llamas, 70 alpacas, 10 Lincoln Longwool sheep (a heritage breed), two horses and a tiny pony named Silver (as in "Hi-Yo!"), two riding mules, a flock of guinea hens, a goat, a Scottish Highland cow named Fergie (a redhead, of course) and a yak named Yogurt. A gelding llama shares a paddock with the sheep to keep prowling coyotes at bay.

Past residents have included a herd of emu, reindeer, donkeys and a camel that was adopted as a bottle baby and sold to a petting zoo as a very tall one-and-a-half-year-old.

Curious as we approached, the combined llama and alpaca herd galloped towards us, some cavorting like foals, play-wrestling using their strong necks while feint-kicking at one another. Many had just been shorn for the summer by a New Zealand sheep shearer, and their large wooly heads perched on giraffe-like necks looked for all the world like creatures drawn by Dr. Seuss.

Hobo clucked a warning across the fence at the charging herd. Clucking and humming are these critters’ total repertoire. Mothers hum to their babies, called crias, and other llamas and alpacas hum to one another to chat. Beasts of burden for thousands of years in South America, they seldom spit (despite the "No Spitting" sign in Seldom Scene’s barn) and usually only at each other when provoked or to establish herd dominance.

Though it’s a fun part for Lindy, trekking is not the total focus of the Hubers’ business. Alpaca breeding makes up the great percentage. And how. Last year, they sold $300,000 worth of the animals, all of which are microchipped and fully insured. Luxurious, cashmere-like alpaca wool is highly sought after, and the sale price of breeding alpacas is on the rise. For comparison, while the average quality male llama sells for around $500 and the female for $1,000, the average female alpaca goes for about $15,000.

Now president of the nationwide Alpaca Owners and Breeders Association, Lindy had been looking for a way to ease out of her job as a special ed teacher at Dunbar High in Lexington, so she could stay home with her son Bobby, now five. The alpacas have allowed her to do that. For a few years, she even headed a 4-H llama and alpaca club.

These days, Seldom Scene breeds, shows and sells llamas and alpacas. Long-term farm plans include a studio for workshops and a store where Lindy can sell more alpaca products. Currently, a barn tack room (its walls covered with ribbons from breed and fiber competitions) is packed with bolts of roving (or fiber) to sell to handspinners, and gorgeous, oh-so-soft sweaters, handfelted hats, shawls, mittens, socks, purses and snow white alpaca teddy bears. A handspinner and weaver herself, Lindy has both a spinning wheel and a loom, and her home, a trek stop for icy lemonade, is decorated with beautiful handmade shawls and baskets of rich-hued wool skeins.

All too soon, we were back at the barn. After petting a whisper-soft two-week-old alpaca, with a sigh I began the 35-minute drive back to Lexington. Though friends may razz me for falling in love with Hobo, Lindy understands.

"It may sound clichéd," she said, "but you can see the wisdom of the ages in their eyes, and it’s such a gentle wisdom."

So when you go to Seldom Scene Farm, be forewarned: Many of their menagerie are for sale, and a four-footed beast just might eke its way into your heart and follow you home.

Katherine Tandy Brown (kathybrown@lanereport.com) is a staff writer for The Lane Report.

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