Morocco reminds me of the quiet kid in class. You know the one that sits in the back and doesn’t talk much, but you’re pretty sure he’s either the smartest kid there or a sociopath. Yeah, that’s our Mo.

I feel...judged. Don't judge me Morocco!

Maybe it’s because his top knot has grown in over his eyes and it’s hard to see his face, but I just can’t get a reading on this guy. Mom tells me I’m being silly. But he is definitely the smartest of our little herd. He was the first to figure out how duck his head into the horse paddock and drink out of their water tub. Even though he was born more than a month after Tuscaninny, he figured out the…er….”birds and bees” first.

That's Mo on the ground on the far right.

Mo was born (to Mikayla) with a badly formed palate. His caretakers named him “wheezer”, because his breath whistles in and out of his mouth audibly. Though we were told he’d “grow out of it”, he hasn’t. It has gotten better, but he still occasionally clears his nose with a kind of asthmatic sound.

His fiber has just a touch more orange to it than Tuscany’s, though both are considered “light fawn” (off-white). It is by far the softest and crimpy-est of all our alpacas. Mom washed one batch, and it felted so easily she had to spend hours picking it apart again. I haven’t spun any of Mo’s fiber yet, but I’ll probably spin it “in the dirt“, so we can wash it as yarn. It tends to be more stable that way.