Volume 4, Issue 63: Jeff Weaver

"What he's done for these people today will never be forgotten."

Pre-order The Time Has Come, my novel that comes out May 16. I think you will like it. All pre-orders with proof of purchase enter the contest we unveiled last month. Hi.

The winner of this year’s The Will Leitch Newsletter women’s basketball pool was “Tiger Time.” That winning entry, which as you will remember comes with the reward of an assigned newsletter topic, was from 11-year-old Margot G.

Margot G.’s father emailed me Monday morning:

As you can imagine, she is really excited to have won. (I told her on Saturday night she would win the pool if LSU won, and when she woke up on Sunday she told me, "Today's a big day for me.") She's most excited to assign you a newsletter subject. Here's what she asked me to convey to you:

"Hello, my name is Margot G., and as my prize for winning the pool, I would love for you to write about llamas, and the unique way they live and protect each other. Humor me. Thanks, Margot G. [drawing of llama]"

I am sad to say that I there was no drawing of a llama attached to the email: I would love to see what Margot came up with. But I am delighted to write about llamas and the unique way they live and protect each other for you, Margot. And congratulations.

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The thing about llamas is that they look at you, and they see what you need. They do this for each other, perhaps instinctively, but what’s most fascinating about llamas is that they do this for everyone—whatever species may need them. Every llama is always watching out for everybody else. Every llama knows the world is bigger than just them.

Llamas themselves live and travel in herds, often in packs as massive as 200 large, but no matter how big that herd is, it is always a collective. When one llama spots a potential threat or predator, it will unleash an ear-splittingly shrill sound, with a pitch that rises and falls, a pitched that is picked up and spread to all the other llamas, to the point that the entire pack can be alerted within a matter of seconds.

This is quite the fascinating sound, one that is done without the llama even opening its mouth:

This skill, this innate sense of looking out for others, isn’t limited to the herd itself. Even though llamas are gentle vegetarian animals, they are often used as guards for livestock and other animals because they are so alert to external stimuli. Llamas protect not through violence, but through their innate sense of concern for others: If something dangerous is coming, their first instinct is to let you know so you can be safe.

But the social structure of a llama herd, and the warmth that comes with it, goes beyond just surviving external threats. Baby llamas, called crias, are welcomed into the world by the females of the herd emitting a low, calming hum. This hum becomes, as llamas get older, a primary vessel for communication: If you were to spend substantial time with llama herds, you would hear this hum so often that it would begin to blend into the atmosphere and become soothing white noise.

Llamas learn that this noise relaxes not only other llamas, but other species as well.

And this is what makes llamas particularly great: They are here to help.

Llamas are naturally curious animals; it is likely, if you come across one, that it will walk right up to you, eager to find out what your whole deal is. They approach the world informed by that curiosity, a sense of wonder rather than fear. You are not seen as a threat. You are simply another being they have not met yet, and one that they are eager to know.

Which is why it is no wonder what llamas are now doing for humans.

Llamas and alpacas — popular in TV commercials, as toys and on all manner of apparel — are simultaneously growing more common in therapeutic settings. While a handful are registered with Pet Partners, a national nonprofit clearinghouse for therapy animals, most are simply family farm pets whose owners take them to hospitals, college campuses and senior centers to ease people’s stress.

The novelty factor is a big part of the appeal, along with the creatures’ big-eyed, empathetic gaze. Among the animals that biologists refer to as charismatic megafauna — tigers, elephants, giant pandas and the like — llamas, which are not endangered, are among the few that people can safely hug.

“For some people, dogs are a little too much, or they’ve had a bad experience with them,” said Niki Kuklenski, a longtime llama breeder in Bellingham, Wash., who was one of the first to use the animals for therapeutic purposes. She said that her llamas, especially a female named Flight, “will read people. So when she goes into a setting where someone’s really animated and excited to see her, she’ll put her head down for a hug.”

But if someone seems apprehensive, “Flight will stand stock still,” Ms. Kuklenski said. “She is very cool.” …

Llamas are so calm and eager to connect with you—to protect you, and everything else they come across—that, yes, they are being used as therapy animals. They are not surprisingly terrific at it.

Llama owners will tell you that their pets have a sixth sense about people who are needy, ill or frail. Carol Rutledge says that her therapy llama, whose name is Knock, will walk voluntarily to the bedside of a hospice patient and stand in silence while the patient reaches for him. “It wrenches at your heart,” she said. “It’s taken me several visits to be able to get through it without getting emotional.”

Mona Sams, an occupational therapist in Roanoke, Va., has eight llamas and five alpacas at her practice, which serves children with autism and other disorders, as well as adults with developmental disabilities. One patient is a girl with severe cerebral palsy and seizures who comes twice a week. “I have one llama,” — named Woolly — “who literally sits there with her for a whole hour, face to face,” Ms. Sams said. “She calls Woolly her ‘counselor,’ and she will spend the first part of the hour telling Woolly what difficulties she’s had, and he just sits beside her for that entire time.”

I have long been suspicious of people who tell me that they like animals better than people. I have often found their love of animals to be a crutch, a simplistic, mostly one-way, co-dependent relationship that they are forced rely on because humans are too complex, and require too much giving of one’s self, for them to put forth the effort any longer. I love dogs, and cats, and at the end of a long day, I do find comfort in them. But, well: They’re not people. People are harder—more unpredictable, moodier, needier, more destructive. That’s why connecting with them means so much more; it’s more difficult, less transactional and dependent, and therefore more meaningful. I’ll just say this: If your dog is truly your best friend, this says more about you than it does your dog.

But this does not mean that the way animals—the way llamas, specifically, Margot—see the world, and approach it, should not be aspirational for us. As we get older, as life’s disappointments grow larger, as we focus less on having new experiences and more on simply holding on to what we already have, we can end up closing ourselves off: We worry more about what’s directly in front of us rather than what the world might potentially still have in store for us—and thus why that world has to be protected. The llama takes care of everything around it, not out of a protective instinct, not out of fierce tribalism, but because the world is full of fascinating, incredible things that we haven’t even had the chance to go discover yet. You protect everything, because you believe that everything—even things you don’t know about yet or understand, especially things you don’t understand—deserves to be protected.

The llama just wants to meet you, someday, and find out what you’re all about—to find out what you need, and give it to you. Isn’t that a great way to think of the world? Isn’t that something we should all strive for? Isn’t what what we all want? Isn’t that the point of doing anything at all?

Thank you, Margot, for encouraging me to learn more about the llama. I’m glad you won my women’s basketball pool, and I’m glad to have met you. I’m better off for it.

Also: Llama poop has no odor. Chalk up another one for the llama.

FIVE WEEKS TO BOOK LAUNCH

Every week here at The Will Leitch Newsletter, we countdown the weeks until the release of The Time Has Come, my novel that comes out May 16. This is the spot for weekly news, updates and pre-order reminders.

We have some big updates come next week, and really over the next month, so stay tuned. Until then, I’ll remind you to enter the Goodreads giveaway that’s currently going on, where you can win a free early copy of the book.

Also, we have a jacket! This is what the jacket looks like:

Sharp!

As I said: Big updates coming next week. But for now: Don’t forget to pre-order, and also don’t forget the playlist:

Here is a numerical breakdown of all the things I wrote this week, in order of what I believe to be their quality.

1. Kyrie Irving Is Blowing Up Everything, New York. I was on spring break with the family humans this week and, if I’m being honest, it wasn’t my strongest week.

2. Seven Encouraging Signs From the First Week, MLB.com. I really just watched a lot of baseball.

3. Matt Damon Movies, Ranked and Updated, Vulture. Updated with Air.

4. Keanu Reeves Movies, Ranked and Updated, Vulture. He made another John Wick movie, haven’t you heard?

5. The Thirty: Takeaways From the Opening Weekend, MLB.com. Trying to essentially watch every game.

PODCASTS

Grierson & Leitch, no show this week, back taping Sunday night.

Seeing Red, Bernie and I recapped the first series. This team really stinks right now.

Waitin' Since Last Saturday, no show this week

LONG STORY YOU SHOULD READ THIS MORNING … OF THE WEEK

“Paul Schrader’s Very Paul Schrader Days in Assisted Living,” Adriane Quinlan, New York. The Taxi Driver and First Reformed writer is living in a memory care facility, taking care of his wife, actress Mary Beth Hurt, who has Alzheimer’s. A lovely little piece: My only quibble with it is that it’s not longer.

ONGOING LETTER-WRITING PROJECT!

This is your reminder that if you write me a letter and put it in the mail, I will respond to it with a letter of my own, and send that letter right to you! It really happens! Hundreds of satisfied customers!

Write me at:

Will Leitch
P.O. Box 48
Athens GA 30603

CURRENTLY LISTENING TO

“A Small Victory,” Faith No More. Whenever I am trying to capture madness in my writing, honestly, I listen to this album, and often this song, to try to get myself there.

Remember to listen to The Official Will Leitch Newsletter Spotify Playlist, featuring every song ever mentioned in this section.

Also, now there is an Official The Time Has Come Spotify Playlist.

After a week in Florida, I am ready to come back to America. Though I did enjoy going to a Marlins game—one that took an hour and 58 minutes!—and then heading back to our hotel for the rare, sainted Cardinals-Cobain one-two punch.

Have a great weekend, all.

Best,
Will