‘I am Vicugna Pacos,’ said the quirky creature staring at me from the other side of the hedge. ‘Not the beast of burden you probably take me for!’

    ‘I do not take you for anything,’ I replied innocently, taken back a tad by a talking alpaca.

    ‘Well that’s ok then,’ Vicugna Pacos sniffed and walked towards me. ‘What is it with you humans that you need to stop and take photos of me when I’m obviously not up to it?’

     I stretched me neck forward and was about to take a photo, when I stopped. ‘What is wrong with you?’ I asked. ‘Why do you look at me like that?’ The alpaca had eyes as large as jar lids.

     ‘You are wearing the wool of one of my relatives,’ he said. ‘I am delighted!’ But even his delight didn’t seem to please him, as he hummed and hawed like a human with indigestion.

     I laughed as I ran my hand over the silky sweater I was wearing. ‘Well, why on earth are you so sulky and making strange noises?’ I said. ‘Your fur is flame resistant and hypoallergenic, how amazing is that?’ But Vicugna Pacos was not impressed with such information and pouted like a spoilt child and continued to hum and haw. You see, alpacas do this when they are stressed.

      ‘That is why!’ Vicugna Pacos tossed his pretty head in the direction of another, much younger, alpaca. ‘My cousin! His mother is having a terrible time potty training him!’

      ‘Ah,’ I nodded my head, ‘I understand!’ You see readers; alpacas share one bathroom, to keep the table clean, so to speak! But it was quite obvious that the new addition to the family was having difficulty understanding this task and indeed, as I stood there talking to his cousin, he opened his bowels right there in front of us.

      ‘Disgusting child!’ cried Vicugna Pacos and turned his head skywards.

      I thought about this for a moment then suddenly, ‘I have it!’ I said to Vicugna Pacos, ‘is the child hungry?’ But without waiting for an answer, I dropped an apple I had in my pocket, into the pile of alpaca dung. ‘There,’ I said to the offending youngster, ‘a delicious apple for your tea!’

      Vicugna Pacos watched in amazement as his young cousin sniffed at the apple and tried to retrieve it from the hot smelling mulch. But the apple stuck hard and fast to the setting dung.

      Hardly able to contain my laughter, I threw another apple, which I had been saving for mykind and unassuming husband, into the field where the grass was clean and untouched and watched the youngster eagerly retrieve it. Needless to say, his potty training days were over and Vicugna Pacos posed for me without complaint!  

In the quiet of the day, we stood on top of Llanmadoc hill in Gower, looking down at the rolling fields and the wave-less sea beyond. An eerie silence wrapped itself around us and we suddenly realised that no bird sang and indeed, we saw no feathered friends. Sheep grazed soundlessly on the sunny slopes, occasionally looking up at us with little interest. But for the swirling puffs of smoke from the chimney tops in the village, we could easily have been looking at a painted landscape.

     With an urge to break the spell, I thrust my walking boot into a frozen puddle until it cracked! Like an alarm bell, a small bird flew out from the dried heather to warn the world of our arrival. Ponies suddenly appeared, chomping on the defrosting grass, and across the estuary the hoot of a train was evidence enough that life still went on. But thankfully, the silence returned.

      As I stood on top of the hill, I closed my eyes, stretched out my arms and imagined I was flying. Over the sand dunes I went and out to the shell filled beaches, then up and over the woodlands, where the hawks and the kites were hiding. A winter sun warmed my shoulders and the coconut fragrance from the early gorse, filled the air.  

       Opening my eyes, I saw my kind and unassuming husband looking at me, smiling. I smiled back, took his hand and walked back to our home for waifs and strays. Once again, I counted my blessings!

Strolling down to the pond early yesterday, I was instantly aware of an eerie silence. No birds sang from the trees and thick hedges and no hens cooed or raced to greet me. Something was terribly wrong!

     With my heart in my mouth, it didn’t take long to discover the pile of soft, white-grey feathers, lying beneath the drooping branches of a weeping willow tree. I too felt like weeping as I raced around the garden, counting the hens before realising that the latest victim of the preying sparrow hawk was an innocent ring-necked dove.  

      And again this morning, the screeching sound of the small birds made alarm bells ring in my head. I looked down towards the pond and spotted the dreaded hawk with its sharp yellow eyes and long lanky legs, spying on his potential victims from a tree close by. I froze as he turned his head and stared at me. ‘You’re a find bird,’ I said calmly, ‘but these small creatures are my guests and not to be taken by your strong claws.’

      I am not sure how much the hawk understood, but he left to join another three hawks that were waiting nearby.

      All day long, as my kind and unassuming husband and I trekked around the waterfalls in a valley close by, I couldn’t help but pray the hawks would find a more suitable restaurant and never come back!

‘OK Jako, so who’s your friend?’

No sooner did we get rid of Jako (in the field) when a friend of his turns up! Slightly larger and more, well, worldly looking. If you get what I mean!

     ‘You’re not welcome here!’ I pointed a finger at him, while shinning a torch on the bemused creature. ‘Indeed, this is a home for waifs and strays,’ I continue kindly, ‘ but it is also home to three fat cats, two of whom, are sitting here waiting to meet you!’ I didn’t add that their tails were wagging impatiently whilst licking their lips.

      The very young rat/mouse whatever, stared back at me from a gap between two cupboards.

      My kind and unassuming husband appeared with a bucket. As clever as he is, I didn’t except him to be able to catch Jako’s friend in such a thing, so I went in search for something far more suitable.

     ‘You had better remove those potential predators,’ I shouted, nodding in the cats direction, ‘before Jako becomes friendless!’

      After much toing and froing, we eventually catch Jako’s friend, in the bucket. My kind and unassuming husband looked very pleased with himself and rightly so.

      Once again, we strolled over to the field and let the animal go. It hesitated, to our surprise.

       ‘Go on!’ I shouted, ‘Jako is waiting for you!’Its nose twitched and its ears pricked up and off it went.

       ‘Jake!’ I said to my kind and unassuming husband. ‘We will call him Jake! Be off with you Jake, it’s later than you think!’

There is a place in my heart that will always be forever wild, just like the Adirondack Mountains, Up State New York. This is where I lived for a short time, many summers ago.

     This 6 million acre wilderness with its 3,000 lakes and 30,000 miles of streams and rivers has made a footprint in my heart for the remainder of my life. Perhaps it is the way in which it rebels against all attempts to train it that appeals to me. I certainly feel one with nature when I am there, despite knowing that these spectacular mountains are home to the black bear.

      They roam through the forests hunting for berries and nuts.  These big black eating machines prowl around the lakes, rivers and streams and even the village's hunting for small mammals and white – tailed deer fawn.

       Ursus americanus, as they are otherwise known, symbolize how wild this wilderness is. Let it remain forever wild.

A Poem to the Adirondacks

“The Poet of the Dusk”
John Shalhoub

Adirondacks, hills and valleys,
Are you listening?
Your splendor awes my spirit.
You grapple with the skies and the stars
My love lives in the shadow of your rocks.
Moving with soft winds by day
Attending to the whispers of my soul.
Your crown creeps into my dreaming soul.
Your crown reflects my love,
As I pass in waking dream through your forests
Of towering trees with murmuring tongues,
I salute your splendor,
And glorify the Maker,
Who bids me peace.
I stand dumb before you,
And speak to your soul in beautiful silence,
While the leaves play the music
To the clouds, mountains, hills, and valleys.
My love lives in your majesty
On the boughs of your spruces,
In every breeze across your face,
Through the ever greenness of your cloak,
Into the brightness of your winter blanket.
Beyond my tears, I rejoice
You are a refuge for my heart.
Adirondacks, are you listening?