While I have not always been a llama fan in the past, I have come to see some value in these snobbish-looking creatures that we’ve tried to make into a viable livestock enterprise.

We were just settling into bed for the night when the dog began to bark – not a normal bark, but more of a warning bark. We figured the cows were out, so we glanced out but didn’t see anything, and went back to bed.

A few minutes later, red lights were flashing through the house, bouncing off the walls in the bedroom, sending us to the window to see what was going on. It was odd to see the lights but hear no sirens.

Being the nosy person I am and knowing I had one son a couple of miles away burning some brush for a neighbor, I headed out to the front yard to see which way the fire truck would turn when it got to the end of the road. It didn’t get to the end of the road; it was driving up my neighbor’s driveway.

I stepped out onto the lawn and immediately got a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach as I saw the neighbor’s barn fully engulfed in flames. It was a workshop, and no livestock were kept in this barn so we hoped the livestock were safe. Even still, seeing the force and magnitude of flames taking over a building and watching the barn succumb to this power was sickening.

We put our clothes on and walked down the dirt road to see if we could help in any way. Praying for everyone’s safety was immediate, but praying for their emotional state was constant. I walked through the cow pasture, ducking the electric fence to get to where the family was standing and watching helplessly as the center of this self-employed business owner’s livelihood was destroyed.

As I stood and listened to the wife tell of the events that led up to the discovery of the fire, we were both thankful for every life being spared, right down to the last barn kitten. But it was what she described next that made me stand back in respect for the target of my skepticism as a young writer.

Just a few feet away from the burning barn was a sheep pasture with their daughter’s flock of Shetlands. After an attack from a pack of dogs, someone had given them a llama to put in with the sheep, to protect the flock from predators.

When the fire broke out, the family rushed to make sure all the animals were out of harm’s way. The Holstein heifers and Morgan horses kept their distance and munched on hay while watching the fire trucks come and go.  But the llama went about business a little differently.

She wasted no time in getting those ewes and their lambs into the far corner of the pasture and held them there throughout the fire. I couldn’t believe what my neighbor was telling me, so I walked over to see this for myself.

And there she lay – with each of her charges lying around her in a safe corner of the pasture. While firemen yelled, trucks beeped, lights flashed, flames destroyed and people stood speechless, she guarded.

I may not ever own a llama, but my respect for this creature of God went off the charts last night, as she instinctively kept her little corner of the world free from harm and worry.

The views and opinions expressed in this column are those of the author and not necessarily those of Farm World. Readers with questions or comments for Melissa Hart may write to her in care of this publication.