Well, Grandma Didn't Get Run Over by a Reindeer - but -

After a few days of cold, rain and snow, we awoke to a bright, sunny sky. It was a welcome sight, as we really needed to get the kids -big and little - out of the house. Boo already bore scratches on his face from too much togetherness with his sister...

Being New Year's Day our options were limited, and then we remembered that the Small Breeds Farm and Owl Centre was likely open. We hadn't been there yet, and so we set off. (Yes, grand excitement for my parents, flying all the way in from Illinois to go look at owls.)

The reality of it was that it was a cool place. We lucky grownups were able to pet a few of the gorgeous owls. We saw absolutely stunningly colored pheasant, more owls, swans and ducks of unusual plumage. Pea cooed over the guinea pigs and chinchilla. Dad bought bags of food to feed the greedy goats (I've never seen so many kinds) , sheep, and alpacas.

Oh, the alpacas.

(Forgive me, I'm already cracking up. Waiting. Regaining composure. And I digress....)

As we walked through the farm, the goats, seeing/smelling the little bags of feed, rushed to their respective gates and eagerly stuck their heads out to be fed. Greedy little buggers. Very drooly, too. While Pea and Boo were trying to herd all the pygmy goats back into their pen, my Mom and I walked ahead to feed some alpaca penned around the corner.

So.

Meet Hazel.

Lovely, isn't she? Hazel was one of three alpacas at the Owl Farm. Mom fed her some feed, then offered some to the other two. Greedy Hazel pushed her nose at Mom's hand. Mom scolded "you've had some, piggy" and tried to push her hand to one of the other alpaca.

Hazel didn't take this too well. She sort of huffed...

..and then she spit. All over Mom's face.

I froze. Mom stood still, stunned momentarily, looked at me (with bits of hay and feed stuck to her glasses and face), then turned and yelled "Aaaaarrrggghhhhhh" and kind of spit, like when you get something disgusting in your mouth.

I tried people. I really tried. Hard. Not. To. Laugh.

I failed, miserably.

Leading her off to the restroom to help her clean up, I was howling. Literally doubled over, and feeling horribly guilty at the same time. (After all, if it was me, I'd likely be pissed beyond belief.) I realized she wasn't with me (as I was doubled over laughing) and heard her saying "Stop laughing". Looking back, there she stood, hay stuck to her hat, legs crossed, laughing, yelling "stop laughing. I'm gonna pee my pants. The shit. Damn llama."

She stood in the restroom while I rinsed her glasses in the sink. I couldn't make out all the mutterings, but they all involved pain and definite harm to the alpaca. Oh, if I only had my camera at the time....

The rest of the afternoon, my Dad followed her around, saying "ptooey, ptooey". She finally looked at him and asked "what are you doing?" "Spitting", he chortled. Mom gave Hazel hard glares (from a distance) as well as a wide berth.

No, poor Grandma didn't get run over by a reindeer.

But she did get spit on by an alpaca.