Friends of mine have an alpaca farm.
Bob and Donna have been raising alpacas for a few years now, and have gotten good at shearing them to sell the wool. Twice a year they get friends together to help, along with their sons Rob and Jerome.

I had the job of holding the ropes that held the back feet of the animal, Rob had the front feet, Jerm and Bob were clipping and Donna was sorting the wool into bags. Two other friends were herding the animals in and out.

We were down to the last one, and were all getting tired. I had the ropes cinched and was holding them as Jerm started clipping, but apparently not tightly enough. The alpaca wrenched her feet out of my grasp and kicked Jerm in the belly. I caught the feet again and restrained them while Bob took over the clippers and Jerm lay on the ground gasping.

We finished with the alpaca and let it loose, and Jerm stood. "Dammit! You're supposed to hold the feet!"

"Sorry. It won't happen again." I paused. "Especially since that was the last one."

I watched as Jerm debated about breaking my jaw, then burst out laughing instead.
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Sat 5 Nov 2011, 2:15, Reply)