Hum's the Word

Poor, poor, Golden.  He is so homesick he can hardly stand to be in his own skin.  He stands at the pasture fence, staring sorrowfully off toward the driveway, and humming. 

Maybe that's his normal facial expression.  Maybe he's just trying to see through his bangs.  Maybe he doesn't think Ginger should be digging a hole in the middle of the yard (yeah, sure, YOU tell her).  It's hard to tell, but the one constant is the humming.  It's omnipresent and ominous, like the "Jaws" theme, only with one note: "Hmmmmm.....hmmmmmm....hmmmmmm....."

He is inconsolable.  He stands.  He hums.  He stands some more.  And then Mizzy comes up and tries to bite his ear off.  And they chase each other for a while, screeching and spitting, but eventually, Golden wanders off.....and hums.

He willingly comes to the fence when a human approaches, but there's always a faint look of disappointment when he realizes that the human is unfamiliar.  And ALWAYS with the sad, sad humming. 

I hope that one day, he will come to terms with his new fate, and try to make some friends.  I think Atticus and Solomon (well, maybe not Solomon) would like to be his friend.  I'm not sure if Mizzy wants to be anyone's friend right now.  He's too busy asserting his dominance over the herd to get too friendly. 

At first, I panicked over Golden's constant humming.  The books tell you that humming sometimes means they're happy, sometimes means they're sad, sometimes means they're sick, and even sometimes means they're mad. 

It's kind of like the first time I took my nephew, Tabor, for the weekend.  He was about a month old at that point, and my parents needed a break.  No problem, I thought.  I'm a rational adult.  I can care for an infant for two measly days.  And everything was fine.

Until the crying started.

He cried.  And cried.  And cried.  He wasn't wet.  He wasn't hungry.  He wasn't in pain.  I couldn't figure out why he was STILL CRYING.  After a couple of hours, I was crying, too.  I'd exhausted everything I could think of to get him to stop.  I couldn't understand why he persisted, and I wasn't about to call my parents, because they would get that TONE in their voices.  You know the tone.  The one that says, "See, and you thought it would be EASY.  Not so easy after all, is it, smarty pants?".

So when Golden persisted in humming, I went through a mental checklist.  Food?  Check.  Water?  Check.  No visible bleeding?  Check. 

What it comes down to, I think, is that although he is healthy, well-fed, and uninjured, his soul has been just a little bit squished. 

So I stand, and when he hums, I hum, just so he knows he's not alone.  Someday, I hope he can be a happy and fulfilled alpaca.  Until then, I'll stand by the fence, and wait him out.