Traffic had come to a halt in both directions as a small herd of mustangs crossed the roadway. Rarely are wild horses ever in a hurry to get from one side of a street to the other, and they were no exception.
Three vehicles ahead of me was a sedan, pulling a short-sided trailer and hauling a pair of Llama. One of the pair slipped its tie-down and hopped from the hauler, racing to the herd of Mustang.
Mustangs being mustangs, they wanted nothing to do with the domesticated ‘wild’un’ and quickly shooed it away and back into the road. However, the Llama was not through having some fun while exploiting its newfound freedom.
It refused to be corralled and trailered, dashing back and forth from one side of the road to the other. I watched as it crop-hopped, sunfished, and cycloned to its left.
Quietly, I got out of my truck, my lariat in hand and building a loop. I waited for the thing to begin spinning again.
As it did, I made a couple of overhead twists and dropped the rope neatly over its head and down the long neck. Unlike a real horse bent on freedom, the Llama came to a stop as I gently hand-over-handed my way to it.
In complete surrender mode, it walked passively back to the trailer and got on. While the woman, whose Llama they were, tied the animal to the railing, I took the time to hobble it by tying a piece of heavy bailing string from its on-right foreleg to the off-left hindleg.
The woman shook my hand, said thank you, while the Llama spit in my left ear.