In my job at a vet clinic, I normally deal with cats and dogs. I'll occasionally see ferrets or rabbits or other small pets, and since starting work in Wyoming, I have handled the odd horse or two. Today, however, I got to play the part of Certified Llama Inspector.
Two llamas--both alike in dignity--needed health certificates to travel to a fair. Current on all appropriate vaccinations and not having any health problems, they ended up a low priority in a busy hospital. The doctors were involved with more crucial cases, and the technicians who normally dealt with large animals were out in the field assisting with the neutering of donkeys and the vaccinating of cattle. So I got the job.
Before today, I'd had very limited experience with llamas. I had passed them once or twice in the mountains carrying equipment for lazy picnickers or campers. I had seen them in fields being raised for their wool. I had once even laughed with glee as a llama at the zoo spit on a detested high school classmate.
Don’t chastise me; I’ve never claimed to be very nice. I did help her clean the goo out of her hair, so you can't say that I’m all bad. Granted, it was my fault that the llama got peeved (I was really bored because my Biology field trip was about at the fourth-grade level, so I danced around in front of the llama and sang to it a bit and pointed at it and taunted it-—I didn’t think it would really spit, but I learned a valuable Biology lesson that day after all). I did laugh the whole time we were attempting to remove the foul-smelling gunk from her clothes, but I didn’t just leave her, which was saying a lot because she had always been a nasty, catty girl to me.
As soon as I heard that the llama business was my responsibility today, I was a bit nervous that Karma might be planning to pay me back for my former wickedness. I, therefore, approached the llamas very slowly and respectfully. I became even more cautious and courteous when the young girl who owned the llamas brought the first one up to me saying, “Be careful around his hind end. He doesn’t really like people.”
I crooned reassuringly and scratched a fuzzy llama neck as I checked for eye infections and nasal discharge. Superficially, he looked quite good to my untrained eye. As I moved to check inside the his mouth, he snorted and stomped. Undeterred--after all, I figured that if I got spit on, I cosmically deserved it--I lifted his lip and opened his mouth anyway, which showed pink gums, grass-stained teeth and no ulcers.
“Nice creatures you’ve got here,” was my official, professional opinion, although I knew that that spotted one would have kicked me if I’d given him the chance.
Friday, September 21, 2007
Sunday, September 16, 2007
Local Lingo
When I moved to Florida, I couldn’t get over the lizards that seemed to run every which way all over the sidewalks. Exclaiming “Look at that one!” revealed me to be a newcomer more quickly than ignorance of local restaurants and hangouts. I couldn't help it, though. I mean, I even found a gecko in work one time! How crazy!
Laramie has its own animal oddities. In addition to the ubiquitous pronghorn antelope that I giddily point out every time I see them, I've already mentioned the multitude of prairie dogs and other wild creatures that live nearby. I am excited by this wildlife, but I can tell that a native generally finds them merely a nuisance. I try to control my glee, therefore, and pretend that I find them only as exciting as cattle.
Besides local critters, I’ve found that sports teams and their details are one of the most important local peculiarities to master. In Florida, I admit to being perplexed that someone was looking forward to watching “The Bucks”. I’d never heard of a team with a deer mascot, but experience revealed that they were actually supporting “The Bucs” or the Buccaneers, the Tampa Bay football team. I soon learned that all things pirate were sacred in the Tampa area up to and including Gasparilla, the Pirate Parade which was some Mardi Gras kind of thing (I still have no idea why Pirates would throw beads at parade-goers, but I guess it beats walking the plank).
Here in Wyoming “Go Pokes!” hangs from the front of every local business now that school has started. I have deciphered its meaning as “Go Cowboys” or “Go Cowgirls”--the mascots of the University. I guess it’s a positive sign that they support both the male and female teams with the odd "pokes”, a word I don’t think I’ve ever used before. Even more odd, the local paper describes the high school sports teams as the Plainsmen and the Lady Plainsmen. Why wouldn’t the girls’ teams be the Plainswomen? One more of the mysteries of local life.
I’ve recently started a new job, and that always leads to lots of questions. All day long I ask what certain things mean, where items are located and how they want me to do various tasks. In addition to work-related things, though, I often am perplexed about local slang or colloquialisms.
My new manager came up to me one day and said, “Cherry, lime or strawberry?”
“Um, what?” I responded, totally lost.
“SODAS,” she answered as if I was five years old.
“Lime?” I said without conviction.
“Just lime?” she asked, dumfounded.
“Okay,” I said, with no idea what I was agreeing to. A lime soda sounded pretty weird, but maybe they meant Sprite or 7-up or something. About an hour later, giant cups from Sonic had appeared in the back room. They held about a liter of orange or red liquid and everyone was approaching them with obvious enthusiasm.
I pointed to the two different drinks and said, “What are they?”
One woman said, “Oh, the orange is cherry-lime and the red is strawberry-lime. I went ahead and ordered you a cherry-lime.”
I tentatively grabbed an orange drink and took a sip. The flavor wasn’t bad, but I felt like my teeth were going to rot away, it was so sweet. There was no way I could drink that entire giant cupful! I smiled and thanked the boss for his generosity (it was his treat, apparently), but I silently questioned who had ever thought of such a thing.
To cover my confusion, I mentioned that I had never been to a Sonic (which was probably obvious at this point). I thought that it was a fast food burger place and asked if that was indeed true.
“Yeah, but their drinks are better than their food,” was the answer I received (leading me to conclude that I probably wouldn’t be going to Sonic any time soon). “But their Conies are pretty good.”
Of course, I was stumped again. “Conies?”
“Foot-long hot dogs?”
Oh. I wouldn’t have expected Wyoming to have Coney Island hot dogs, but I guess I should have expected anything at this point.
Then they started talking about bow-hunting and changing the choke tubes in their shotguns and I gave it all up as a lost cause.
“Go Pokes!” I said cheerily as I left for the day.
Laramie has its own animal oddities. In addition to the ubiquitous pronghorn antelope that I giddily point out every time I see them, I've already mentioned the multitude of prairie dogs and other wild creatures that live nearby. I am excited by this wildlife, but I can tell that a native generally finds them merely a nuisance. I try to control my glee, therefore, and pretend that I find them only as exciting as cattle.
Besides local critters, I’ve found that sports teams and their details are one of the most important local peculiarities to master. In Florida, I admit to being perplexed that someone was looking forward to watching “The Bucks”. I’d never heard of a team with a deer mascot, but experience revealed that they were actually supporting “The Bucs” or the Buccaneers, the Tampa Bay football team. I soon learned that all things pirate were sacred in the Tampa area up to and including Gasparilla, the Pirate Parade which was some Mardi Gras kind of thing (I still have no idea why Pirates would throw beads at parade-goers, but I guess it beats walking the plank).
Here in Wyoming “Go Pokes!” hangs from the front of every local business now that school has started. I have deciphered its meaning as “Go Cowboys” or “Go Cowgirls”--the mascots of the University. I guess it’s a positive sign that they support both the male and female teams with the odd "pokes”, a word I don’t think I’ve ever used before. Even more odd, the local paper describes the high school sports teams as the Plainsmen and the Lady Plainsmen. Why wouldn’t the girls’ teams be the Plainswomen? One more of the mysteries of local life.
I’ve recently started a new job, and that always leads to lots of questions. All day long I ask what certain things mean, where items are located and how they want me to do various tasks. In addition to work-related things, though, I often am perplexed about local slang or colloquialisms.
My new manager came up to me one day and said, “Cherry, lime or strawberry?”
“Um, what?” I responded, totally lost.
“SODAS,” she answered as if I was five years old.
“Lime?” I said without conviction.
“Just lime?” she asked, dumfounded.
“Okay,” I said, with no idea what I was agreeing to. A lime soda sounded pretty weird, but maybe they meant Sprite or 7-up or something. About an hour later, giant cups from Sonic had appeared in the back room. They held about a liter of orange or red liquid and everyone was approaching them with obvious enthusiasm.
I pointed to the two different drinks and said, “What are they?”
One woman said, “Oh, the orange is cherry-lime and the red is strawberry-lime. I went ahead and ordered you a cherry-lime.”
I tentatively grabbed an orange drink and took a sip. The flavor wasn’t bad, but I felt like my teeth were going to rot away, it was so sweet. There was no way I could drink that entire giant cupful! I smiled and thanked the boss for his generosity (it was his treat, apparently), but I silently questioned who had ever thought of such a thing.
To cover my confusion, I mentioned that I had never been to a Sonic (which was probably obvious at this point). I thought that it was a fast food burger place and asked if that was indeed true.
“Yeah, but their drinks are better than their food,” was the answer I received (leading me to conclude that I probably wouldn’t be going to Sonic any time soon). “But their Conies are pretty good.”
Of course, I was stumped again. “Conies?”
“Foot-long hot dogs?”
Oh. I wouldn’t have expected Wyoming to have Coney Island hot dogs, but I guess I should have expected anything at this point.
Then they started talking about bow-hunting and changing the choke tubes in their shotguns and I gave it all up as a lost cause.
“Go Pokes!” I said cheerily as I left for the day.
Monday, September 10, 2007
Fall Scenes
Fall has arrived, and I am now back to work full time, but we're not going to talk about that. Instead, I will share the changes I've already seen taking place in the great outdoors. It's only the beginning of September, but the nights have become noticeably more chilly and the air has a bit of that crisp autumn freshness. Weather forecasters are predicting the first snow in the mountains, so snow could come at any time here in Laramie, which sits at an impressive 7200 feet.
The elk and deer are parading their beautiful antlers as breeding season nears. I'd never seen male elk and mule deer near each other before, but these guys seemed to be happily sharing the same meadow. Lucky for them, they found their dinner in Rocky Mountain National Park, for hunting season has arrived as well, and I'm sure their antlers would be of interest to those with guns outside protected wildlife boundaries.
To tell the truth, I'm more than a little wary of hunters. While I understand their necessity for deer population control in a land with too few large predators, I am intimidated by people with guns. I would hate to be target practice for some trigger-happy loon. If hunters all followed the law and held nature in the highest respect, I would be much more at ease, but I find it hard to believe that anti-poaching and "be sure of your target" signs are posted just for one near-sighted old guy.
I also think taxidermy is one of the creepiest ideas around, so I have a lot of problems with trophy hunting. Those eyes may be glass, but they still seem to follow you around with an accusatory stare. I remember seeing pronghorn heads as decorations when I was a kid, and I had no idea that there were any still around. I thought they had shot them all (and they nearly had). Like the bison, grizzlies, wolves, cougars, lynx....
Wow, this blog is taking a depressing turn (see what going back to work does to me)...on to brighter things...
Fall colors are sneaking their way into the green forests. The red, orange and yellow tints are starting quite slowly, but will soon overtake the landscape. I'm looking forward to seeing mountainsides of golden aspens before all the leaves are gone.
And of course I can't resist a few more photos of crazy mushrooms! Look at them! I keep finding ones in cool shapes and colors. The one below looks like a duck bill! No one can say I don't appreciate the little things...
Finally, I had to share this cool snake picture. It won't be long before he will be hidden away for the winter, but he is still enjoying the afternoon sunshine...and the lack of a snake hunting season in the Rockies.
The elk and deer are parading their beautiful antlers as breeding season nears. I'd never seen male elk and mule deer near each other before, but these guys seemed to be happily sharing the same meadow. Lucky for them, they found their dinner in Rocky Mountain National Park, for hunting season has arrived as well, and I'm sure their antlers would be of interest to those with guns outside protected wildlife boundaries.To tell the truth, I'm more than a little wary of hunters. While I understand their necessity for deer population control in a land with too few large predators, I am intimidated by people with guns. I would hate to be target practice for some trigger-happy loon. If hunters all followed the law and held nature in the highest respect, I would be much more at ease, but I find it hard to believe that anti-poaching and "be sure of your target" signs are posted just for one near-sighted old guy.
I also think taxidermy is one of the creepiest ideas around, so I have a lot of problems with trophy hunting. Those eyes may be glass, but they still seem to follow you around with an accusatory stare. I remember seeing pronghorn heads as decorations when I was a kid, and I had no idea that there were any still around. I thought they had shot them all (and they nearly had). Like the bison, grizzlies, wolves, cougars, lynx....
Wow, this blog is taking a depressing turn (see what going back to work does to me)...on to brighter things...
Fall colors are sneaking their way into the green forests. The red, orange and yellow tints are starting quite slowly, but will soon overtake the landscape. I'm looking forward to seeing mountainsides of golden aspens before all the leaves are gone.
And of course I can't resist a few more photos of crazy mushrooms! Look at them! I keep finding ones in cool shapes and colors. The one below looks like a duck bill! No one can say I don't appreciate the little things...
Finally, I had to share this cool snake picture. It won't be long before he will be hidden away for the winter, but he is still enjoying the afternoon sunshine...and the lack of a snake hunting season in the Rockies.
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