Alpacas, Oh My!
Northern Solstice Alpaca Farm
This post was originally published October 19, 2017.
Growing tired of the coast, I traveled inland to Maine’s countryside, where the grass is tall and the farmlands are long. On a quest to find the cutest farm animals, I passed pastures of sheep, cows, and goats, along with a couple horses pulling an empty buggy on the way to the Community Market. Amish people are often associated with Pennsylvania, but they’re not uncommon in Maine either. Like the old folk and artists who come to the state for the quiet recesses away from urban clamor, Amish people have found their own communities within Maine’s borders. I knew of, and had visited, an Amish settlement in Smyrna, Maine many years ago, but this was my first visit to Unity’s settlement.
The market looked longer on the outside with large, window filled roofs to let in the natural lighting. Outside, buggies were parked next to a small garage, and a small corgi greeted us at the door. After petting the dog enough times for me to be confidant in its love (or at least tolerance) of me, I ventured inside. From wooden Adirondack chairs to raspberry filling, the store was overflowing with handmade goods, and sitting by the cash register in a glass box were the handmade sweets that had a reputation that preceded them. I never knew a pocket cherry pie could taste so good.
Beyond the Amish settlement was the farm I was looking for: Northern Solstice Alpaca Farm. Alpacas are so cute. They’re like dogs with abnormally long necks, though most of them do not like to be pet. They’re incredibly curious creatures, which makes for good company and some unintentionally close up pictures. At least one alpaca will come up and greet you at the fence.
Sperry Steele, one of the exceptions to the I-don’t-like-to-be-pet rule, came up to blow kisses on my cheek and make sly attempts to nip at my coat sleeve. Her fleece was very thick and soft. Understandably, alpacas make some of the warmest and softest (and water-resistant!) scarves and mittens. Both of which now reside in my mother’s closet.
Their fleece comes in a variety of colors, though black is the rarest. It took the farm 12 years to have Cooper, the black baby alpaca, who was snacking away on hay behind the larger alpacas. The color of the alpaca is completely random. Cooper’s father was a black alpaca and has had white alpacas. I also learned that the white alpacas with blue eyes are deaf. I talked to them anyway, telling them that they were cute in case they didn’t already know from the constant attention.
Three guinea hens wandered around the alpaca pens. Two of them are named after characters in Up. There’s Kevyn, the strange bird who wandered out of the woods, and Russell, who also came out of the woods like a wilderness explorer. Siri, the other hen did not emerge from the forest, but still made a home among the alpacas.
Me and Sperry Steele
Finally, there’s AG Space Cowboy, the resident stud. There’s not a lady alpaca who doesn’t want to get with him. He’s a very handsome alpaca with several awards to show for it. Grazing on his own little planet in a separate fenced area near the entrance, he is free to make first and lasting impressions on all the farm’s visitors. Though he wasn’t quite as friendly as the females, he did stand tall for his picture, and probably ignored me while I said goodbye to him and all my other fuzzy new friends.