When It Goes Wrong: The Hardest Part of Farming

This isn’t the blog post I wanted to write. But it’s the one I feel I need to.

It’s about what happens when, despite your best intentions, your planning, and your experience, you get it wrong. It’s about the weight of responsibility that comes with raising alpacas. And it’s about Wrigley.

Wrigley’s Beginning

Wrigley was born in 2021, right in the middle of a “Be an Alpaca Farmer” experience. A family of six happened to be visiting when his mom, Roller, delivered her very first cria. It was a beautiful moment... quiet, sunny, and full of wonder. They named him Wrigley.

He was our only cria that year. The year before, in 2020, we had six, and I made a conscious choice not to have a large addition the following season. With just one cria on the ground, Wrigley had no same-age playmates and no weaning partners the next spring. And this, as I now understand more clearly, is where things started to go off course.

Roller and Wrigley, shortly after his birth.

A Hands-Off Approach

If you’ve spent time around our farm or followed our story, you might know we take Aberrant Behaviour Syndrome (ABS) very seriously. ABS often develops in alpacas that are over-handled or inappropriately socialized by humans as youngsters. It can lead to dangerous behavioural issues in males particularly, especially when those animals reach maturity.

Knowing this, we’ve long had a hands-off approach with our crias. Moms raise their babies, and we handle them only for necessary things like weighing, medication, and health checks. Visitors are never allowed to touch or interact with crias. It's all about setting boundaries early and letting the alpacas form proper social bonds within their species.

And that’s what we did with Wrigley. At first.

Where We Went Wrong

Wrigley was weaned the following spring, in keeping with our usual schedule. Girls are weaned by removing the mom and leaving the baby in the familiar female herd. Boys are moved to the “little boys’ paddock” behind the barn.

Here’s the thing. That back paddock is completely separate. The alpacas in the front field can’t see, sniff, or interact with the alpacas in the back. When we moved Wrigley, we placed him with other juvenile males who were similar in size and temperament, but not in age and not familiar. He had never met them before.

The one thing Wrigley did recognize in that moment? Me. And that’s when the inappropriate bonding began.

The Turning Point

He hadn’t shown any signs of human attachment in the first ten months of his life. But in that moment of transition, removed from his mother and isolated from familiar herdmates, I became the constant. And I believe now that’s when the imprinting occurred.

I noticed it soon after weaning. He was far too interested in me. I did my best to reverse it... avoiding eye contact, keeping my distance, discouraging engagement, but I believe it was already too late.

Wrigley, several weeks after weaning.  Notice the pinned ears already and interest in me.

The following spring, when Wrigley was 20 months old, I had him neutered. I’d been told that 18 months was the earliest that neutering could be considered in cases like his. I hoped this intervention might curb his behaviour before it worsened.

It helped. For a while.

Living with the Consequences

Last summer, my staff and I managed him carefully. We watched his behaviour closely and made accommodations.

But this past year, things escalated. Wrigley became increasingly difficult to be around. While he hadn’t made physical contact with me, he had begun rearing up, charging, and spitting at me unprovoked. His body language had shifted from attention-seeking to aggression.

At that point, I knew Wrigley could never leave my farm. But, I had to consider the safety of my staff. We excluded Wrigley and his paddock from farm tours entirely because of his behaviour. 

I knew where Wrigley's journey would end.

The Hardest Decision

Following shearing last week, I made the decision to have Wrigley euthanized.

It wasn’t made lightly. His behaviour had escalated to the point where I wouldn't allow my staff to enter his paddock.  When I entered, I always carried a rake or a bucket... something to use as a distraction and barrier between us. Routine care had become stressful and unpredictable.

Every time I entered the barn, there was a tension, an awareness that things could turn quickly. Wrigley hadn't just become a difficult animal... he had become a safety hazard and was capable of inflicting serious physical harm.

There are stories we all wish ended differently. This is one of mine.

A Long Time to Get It Wrong

One thing I often tell visitors is that alpacas take a long time to mature... physically, emotionally, and socially. Sometimes up to five years.

And that’s what makes this story so important.

It’s easy to assume that if a young alpaca is behaving “normally” at six months or even a year, everything is fine. But alpacas aren’t like dogs or goats. Their behavioural development is slow and subtle. If imprinting or inappropriate socialization happens, even briefly, it may not fully show itself until much later.

That’s a long time to reinforce the wrong patterns.

Wrigley didn’t show overt signs of bonding at birth. But at ten months old, at a moment of stress and vulnerability, that shift occurred. He was still young enough to imprint, but old enough that no one expected it.

That’s what I missed. And it’s what I hope others can learn from.

Fall 2024. Tightly pinned ears and his muzzle and eye muscles are tense.

It’s Not Just the Boys

While Wrigley’s story is about a male alpaca, it’s worth saying, this can happen with females too.

We’ve seen it ourselves. Shilo, one of our females, formed early inappropriate attachments. While her behaviour hasn’t turned aggressive in the same way, it still presents challenges. Female alpacas are less likely to charge or rear, but they can become pushy, overly familiar, and difficult to manage... especially around feeding, handling, or birthing.

The point is simple. No alpaca is immune. Good boundaries matter for all of them.

Why I’m Sharing This

Because I see how easy it is to make this mistake.

Because I know how tempting it is to anthropomorphize alpacas... to see them as cute, cuddly, quirky critters.

Because I want other small farms, fibre artists, visitors, and would-be alpaca owners to understand what the consequences can be when those boundaries are crossed, even unintentionally.

Wrigley wasn’t a bad alpaca. He was a product of his environment. And that environment, for a brief but important window of time, didn’t give him what he needed most... the herd.

Moving Forward

I share this not out of guilt or grief, but out of responsibility.

If we talk openly about what goes wrong - not just what goes right - we help others avoid the same pain. We deepen our understanding. We improve how we care for the animals we say we love.

Wrigley’s story didn’t end the way I wanted it to. But maybe it can help someone else write a better one.

With care,
Janet
Green Gable Alpacas