NAFD, a (small grey) changing of the guard, and other misadventures

What a whirlwind 4 days we’ve had here on the farm. Saturday dawned and the mountainside seemed to wake up in a cloud in more ways than one. Though the fog did burn off by late morning, I will admit now that we went into National Alpaca Farm Days, last weekend with a bit of trepidation. Not only were we taking away what was this family’s only truly free weekend (read no soccer games 2 hours away, no alpaca shows) between now and the 1st part of November but we also haven’t over the years always had great success attracting bodies to open houses that were part of a greater group thing as compared to one of our own independently planned events on (and by) the farm. Yes, we love the warm and fuzzy concept of a nationally promoted event at multiple farms but the dirty little truth is that sometimes such things can end up spreading the finite energy of the public too thinly. Hanging out an invitation to a party that no one comes to can be demoralizing to say the least. Been there, done that.

As it turned out this time, we needn’t have worried. In the end some 130 people came through our doors over the course of the two days Saturday and Sunday. There were of course a fair number of gawkers and families just out for a weekend excursion curious to see what an alpaca farm was all about. Though interspersed amongst those visitors were several established alpaca breeders who took the time to come and check us out as well as several prospective alpaca owners still doing their research and kicking the proverbial tire a bit. We found all of the visitors enjoyable regardless of their interest level and also got to meet several new families from our surrounding communities. Within reason, of course, all publicity is good publicity so it was just nice to spend a couple of days talking shop in a low key environment. In the final analysis it was time very well spent. Thanks to all of the folks who made the effort to travel and come and visit CCNF!

Down at our house we also took the plunge and brought in a new family member of a very different sort. For more than 10 years now we have always made a point of having two cats in our household. We are away from home enough — for work and fun alike — over the course of the year, that it’s nice for the family cats to have each other’s company, even if they’re are never truly alone on the greater farm. Having lost our beloved kitty, Jewel, on the night of Hurricane Irene, we had spent the last week or so hunting around for a new kitten we could bring in to keep our now solo girl, Crystal, company. Finding the right kitten to take over the now junior slot was not necessarily a quick and simple task though. For starters we wanted a female and, secondly, hopefully a kitten that either was or could be easily socialized. Having just missed out late last week on adopting a little girl from our lovely local humane society (Lucy Mackenzie), Jen ended up tracking down a litter of 9 kittens in nearby Claremont, NH. So it was that she took off around 5PM on Sunday after our final farm visitors left to go and see what prospects there were. As it turned out they were good enough that she called me less than an hour later saying that she had a little smoke-grey girl in her possession. None of which would have been a problem except for the fact that our friends had just arrived from Montreal for a two day visit around 5:45 and we had made prior plans with them for dinner at our favorite local inn for 6:30. Do you have any idea how hard it was to get the kids motivated to go to dinner with a new 1.5 pound kitten in the house? “Step away from the kitten and put your shoes on!” They begrudgingly acquiesced. Though she’s still living in our bathroom two days later, little Sadie (the boys christened her yesterday) seems to be doing well and like many baby animals spends a lot of the time napping between frantic sessions of play with the various members of her new human family. Crystal for her part is not yet sold on the new kitten though we’re confident that she’ll come around to it, if nothing else out of boredom!

Yesterday morning came and while our buddies Guy and Barry slept in (perhaps slept off would be a better turn of phrase), yours truly took the boys to school then came back home to be here for our required official US DOT safety audit with the good folks of the VT DMV. While I fully get it that the rules are the rules and that we’ve elected to follow them to the letter of the law, I couldn’t help but notice the slightly bemused demeanor of the officer as we went through the process of the audit. We as an alpaca farm that hauls out of state perhaps 10 times a year is so obviously the small fish caught up in a much bigger regulatory net. The bad news from our audit is that it turns out we get to keep a whole bundle of different files from maintenance plans/records for our truck and trailer, to files for each of us that will be driving our rigs out of state. P.I.T.A! So be it though. The good news was that the audit confirmed that our truck and beast on wheels tri-axle trailer have a combined gross vehicle weight rating of 25,900 lb. Had they been rated 100 lb. more it would have required our driver(s) to have a CDL, which is another whole ball of wax and something we wanted no part of. We’ll take our victories where they come on this one.

Things have in fact been crazy enough over the past 96 hours that I now find myself writing most this in my car while waiting for Max’s soccer practice to conclude on Tuesday evening having bid our friends goodbye after lunch and sent them happily driving back north. I’m kind of running on fumes here with good reason though in the interest of full disclosure it should be pointed that the fatigue isn’t all work related by any means. Yesterday in between the DOT shenanigans of the morning and an evening 5th grade class meeting at our kids’ school, my friends and I were also able to play what has become our annual game of of hideously mediocre golf. My clubs came out of the basement yesterday and will most likely not be used again until 2012 around this same time of year. This is golf played so badly that even the late great Leslie Nielsen would have been hard pressed to find the humor in it. You need to understand that I’m talking about balls routinely skittering 20 yards at a time, mostly, though not always, towards the green. The company and the day were beautiful though and there are of course far worse ways to spend 4 hours of a sunny September afternoon. We were um…tearing it up so well in fact that we elected to call it a day after only 9 holes. We quit while we were ahead: that’s my story and I’m sticking to it. Time for bed.