familiar interiors, with the stalls and the hay-mows, borrow a strangely foreign air from the long rows of curious long-haired and horned inhabitants. A group of camels or yaks being fed about an ordinary haystack catches one’s eye as he leaves the barn; while on another side the farm-boy is letting down the bars for the sacred cows. Even the staid old farm-house looks self-conscious and out of place when surrounded by a herd of dromedaries, zebras, or llamas.
The llamas posing for their pictures.
The difficulties of animal farming are, of course, endless. For one thing the wilder animals draw the race line very strictly. The domestic and the wild animals, even of the same species, never live happily together. The sacred cow will not graze peacefully with her domesticated sister—neither seems happy. To put zebras and horses in the same pasture, however large it may be, brings about instant and violent conflicts. And for all the years the circus animals have wintered among such civilizing influences on their Pennsylvania farm, they remain persistently ignorant of many things which an ordinary barnyard animal accepts as a matter of course. The llamas never respect fences, even very high and strong ones. Not one of them is of the slightest value for ordinary farm work. To herd them, since many of them are so powerful and swift of foot, is, perhaps, the most difficult of the chores on this extraordinary farm. Beyond all, the feeding is an endless task, since many of the “boarders” must be fed separately, and each has some absurd prejudices all his own.
It is little wonder, then, that the new chore-boy on the wild-animal farm regarded his daily round of duties with despair.
