Kathryn A. Sletto - Keeping Watch: 30 Sheep, 24 Rabbits, 2 Llamas, 1 Alpaca, and a Shepherdess with a Day Job

T heir wide-eyed looks of horror said it all. They sat in stunned silence at the kitchen table, newspapers and homework forgotten. This was not the reaction I expected from my husband and twelve-year-old son. I had rushed home, eager to share my exciting news. The news involved a camelthe only camel in North Dakota, in fact. And it was for sale.

At the time, I worked as a freelance grant writer and grants management consultant for several small towns in western Minnesota, including Browns Valley. The Browns Valley office staff provided me with a never-ending supply of good-natured gossip, local folklore, and other benefitsnot the least of which was gainful employment. Linda, the city clerk, and her assistant, Candy, kept an eye out for things that might interest me. They knew of my passion for animals and the motley assortment of pets masquerading as livestock on my familys small farm near Alexandria, eighty miles to the east. Whether it was the city council member who raised exotic animals or the two-for-one deal on cat neutering at the local vet clinic, the two women kept me up to date on community news and events.

But the girls had outdone themselves this time. Look at this, said Candy. Theres a camel for sale. Its just a young one, and her owners have to sell her.

Candy held out a clipping from a regional farm journal. Sure enough, there it was: an ad for a camel for sale. The only camel in North Dakota, the ad proclaimed. She was named Gidget.

A phone call revealed Gidget to be a two-year-old dromedarya one-humped camel. Gidgets owners had originally planned to breed her, but they were cutting back on their livestock operation, which included some rare species. Candy and Linda speculated on where one would find a suitable mate for a camel, especially when she was the only one in the state.

Gidgets owner was eager to find a good home for the unusual creature, and she described the camel in glowing terms. Gidget was very well behaved, accustomed to living with other livestock, and generally good-natured with other animals. But, said her owner, she does get jealous if too much attention is paid to the goats.

Remembering stories Id heard about foul-tempered, spitting camels, I asked if Gidget ever showed signs of aggression. Shes not the least bit aggressive, her owner replied. In fact, the camel was at the very bottom of the pecking order among the resident cattle, sheep, and goats. The sheep boss her around. But there are just a couple of small issues. Youll need at least a six-foot-high fence for her. Hmm, I thought. This could be a problem, since none of our haphazard fencing came anywhere near meeting that requirement.

So you have trouble with her getting out, then? I asked.

No, said the woman, Actually, Gidget hates to get out of her pen. Thats the problem. We used to have regular woven wire fencing, but we had to re-fence for Gidget. Shes so tall that when she stretches her neck way over the fence to reach some particularly tasty morsel, she forgets the fence is there, and she walks right through itshe just stamps it down. When she realizes shes out of her pen, she gets upset. Then she panics. Shes been injured trying to force her way back through the fence. This did not sound like the behavior of any type of livestock I had ever encountered.

But probably the trickiest thing about Gidget, continued her owner, is she tends to act a bit giddy. When shes feeling especially happy, she gets to running and kicking up her heels. Shes still young, so shes not very well coordinated. And when she starts feeling giddy, she tends to tilt her head way back, close her eyes, and just enjoy the moment as she gallops along. If a child or slow-moving animal were in her path well, I really dont like to think what might happen.

Driving home from Browns Valley that afternoon, I pondered both the pros and cons of taking on Gidget, the giddy camel. On the pro side: owning a camel would be a unique experience. No one in our neighborhood had one. I conjured up grand visions of trekking down the driveway perched atop the majestic beast. Maybe Id change her name to Jezebel or Scheherazadesomething more impressive than Gidget.

On the other hand, there would be the expense and back-breaking labor of replacing miles of fencing. Not to mention the likelihood of a galloping Gidget mowing down loved ones and family pets. It was a bad idea, and I knew it. But in my case, logic and common sense rarely prevailed where animals were concerned. Relegating all the negatives to the back of my mind, soon I could think only of what fun it would be to have my very own camel.

I arrived home nearly bursting with the great news. Certainly my husband would agree. We had to have Gidget.

The fleeting look of horror on Terrys face was quickly replaced by one of steely resolve. He had dealt with this type of situation before, and he knew he had to get a lid on it before it went too far.

Early in our marriage, Terry and I had assumed the roles we would play in this ongoing saga. I was the animal-loving pushover who couldnt resist the fuzzy kitten or sad-faced soon-to-be-homeless goat. Terry was forced to act as the voice of reason and practicality.

He said, Sorry, but I really dont think we can handle a camel right now.