photo located in Spring1984 3L-Llama - BC

Dr. Doolittle #47169
1975-1983

By Betsy Ruble

For our first issue of Llama of the Month, we have decided to commemorate Dr. Doolittle who just has to be the most famous foundation Sire of the past. For of those who do not know, Dr. Doolittle was born on the Patterson Ranch (Bend, OR)on June 8, 1975 but he was purchased inutero, with his dam, Fluffy, from Catskill Game Farm. On some of the old advertisements, people listed his sire as Harold (and they were correct). Since Catskill Game Farm (from now on I will be referring to it as CFG) had many studs named Harold, there is no record of which Harold really was his father. Story goes that Harold was the name of a much respected employee that they named all their stud llamas after. Back in those days CGF did not distinguish each Harold (llama) with numbers (ie Harold II which they started to do much later), so there was no way to really know which Harold actually was his sire, so the ILR lists his sire as unknown.

You may have heard that Dr. Doolittle was white with a couple of red patches on him (one on his right shoulder and the other at the top of his right back leg), as you can see in the picture above. It turns out, when he was shorn at about 5 years old, they discovered he also had many tiny little grey spots. Interestingly enough, it was not uncommon for him to produce appaloosa colored offspring...

In his short just over 7 ½ years on this planet, he produced 292 offspring. That averages out to over 50 offspring a year after he was old enough to breed. The Pattersons did field breeding so Dr. Doolittle would have all his females live with him in his pasture year round to breed when needed.

Here is a fun interview with the late Dr. Doolittle from an old Llamas Magazine, Herd Sire issue of 1988:

QA: INTERVIEW
by Laura Sawyer

A short while ago Llamas Magazine enjoyed a one-time-only interview opportunity that was, well, out of this world. Thanks to recent advances in state-of-the art satellite communications technology, special macro-enhancement of planetary receptor sensitivity, and aided by the careful interpretive narration of Kay Patterson, this reporter was privileged to communicate directly with the legendary herd sire, Dr. Doolittle, who now resides eternally on a higher celestial plane. Llamas Magazine readers will be delighted to discover that despite a predictably arrogant exterior, Doolittle reveals an inner self that is easy going and tolerant, with a refreshing sense of humor not often found in contemporary her sires. Read on as Dr. Doolittle expounds on his own life and times, and comments on his unique contribution to today's llama community.

Q: Tell me a bit about your early life? Where did you come from?

A: My parents were both from New York originally, but Dick and Kay Patterson bought my mom, Fluffy, when she was pregnant with me. They brought her out to Oregon from the Catskill Game Farm in a big trailer to join the other llamas they already had. So, you see, I'm a native Oregonian. I was born right on the Patterson Ranch on June 8, 1975, and I never did leave the place.

Q: Who was your father?

A: My mom never would tell me. I asked her a few times, but I couldn't get a word out of her. I always felt kinda bad that I never knew who my dad was.

Q: What did Fluffy look like?

A: As I remember her, she was sort of a hefty gal - weighed in at almost 500 pounds. She was white, and had a lot of wool, as llamas go. She was a real disciplinarian, Fluffy was; she raised me right. My mom and me, we were very close when I was a kid.

Q: How did you come to be called "Dr. Doolittle"?

A: Well, Kay always called me that. I guess it was because I was such a cute and wooly little tyke, and I reminded her of one of them Pushme-Pullu critters. Of course, all the llamas called me, "Hhhmmmmm." I'd answer to either one; didn't make much difference to me.

Q: What were you like as a baby?

A: I remember that I was a very curious child. Always got into trouble with the older llamas around the place. I took a lot of pride in the fact that I got spat at more often than any of my friends! But I'd also say that I was basically a calm guy, not one of them skittery types. I never did think much of a llama, especially a fella, who'll jump out of his skin at the drop of a hat.

Q: How would you describe yourself as an adult?

A: Oh, I'd say I was proud and aloof. I generally did my best to act aloof, especially when humans were around, even if I didn't always feel up to it. I've always thought that if a llama - especially a guy - can't comport himself in a truly aloof manner, he loses respect. There's a limit to how friendly a male should be.

You see, in my mind that's one of the secrets to being a successful herd sire. You need to learn the friendliness limit and stay on the aloof side of it. Oh, I guess it's all right if the ladies get a little foolish over snacks and stuff, and I'm not saying it's not all right for a gent to accept a carrot now and then, too. But me, Personally, I kept a lot of distance between me and friendly, just so there'd be no misunderstandings.

Q: How did you let Dick and Kay know that you were something pretty special?

A: Oh, I let 'em know right away. I was a pretty aggressive little guy right from the start; and, too, they were both experienced horse people. They'd been breeding and raising those monsters for years, you know, and they'd developed a pretty good eye for recognizing real talent when they saw it.

Q: Were you the main herd sire during your time?

A: You bet. There were other males on the ranch at that time, ones I grew up with, like Chief Sitting Bull and Zorro. They were probably my main competition. I hate to admit it, but they were both pretty smooth with the ladies - kept me on my toes, I'll tell you! Just between you and me, I'd like to have had it out with those two; I could have licked 'em both in nothing flat. It always burned my whiskers just knowing they were on the place.

Q: Were you halter-trained?

A: Hah! You know, I spent all my life in the fields; wouldn't have had it any other way. So I was never handled much at all - matter of fact, in all my life they never slapped a halter on me once!

It still gives me a chuckle when I thing about some of the rodeos we had. I was a very powerful guy - weighed about 500 pounds full-grown. I was known around the ranch as a "six-man llama," 'cause it took that many to hold me!

No, I didn't care too much for humans touching me, and all. But I always stuck to a couple of rules when they did; first, I never spat under stress - it's just plain undignified to be drooling down your bib when they've already got the best of you; and second, I never kicked, even if I was feeling cranky.

Q: Were you ever introduced to females from other ranches?

A: You mean, did I ever go out on blind dates? Nope. The Pattersons never seemed interested in my going to visit off the ranch, and I always had enough to keep me busy at home. I could've always found a way to accommodate another young lady; I don't mind telling you, but I was pretty accustomed to my own turf, and it wouldn't have been right to leave my girls like that.

By the way, that's another thing about being a male that could stand a little emphasizing. A herd sire who takes his duties seriously can keep pretty busy maintaining and defending his territory, large or small. In fact, it can become so absorbing that we can almost forget to eat or pay proper attention to the ladies. There were times when I'd get overheated or run down, and I'd never even notice. I don't know now why it seemed so important, but I was never a loafer when it came to defending my territory

Q: What do you think were your best personal features?

A: Well, for my time, I grew up to be the wooliest llama there ever had been. Oh, I know that nowadays there are a lot of little dustmops running around out there, but I'll bet a good number of them have Dr. Doolittle running in their veins. I have to say, at the risk of sounding somewhat immodest, that I was the first world class llama.

For one thing, I was born with those Dagwood Bumstead eyebrows. That was quite unusual back then. And I was one of the first to grow hair out of my ears, too. I did manage to get shorn once in my life - I was about five years old at the time - and they shaved seventeen pounds of wool off me. Now that's a lot of wool for us camelid types.

Q: Did all that wool ever bother you in the summer?

A: I never would've put two and two together like that, you know, but when I look back on it, I never felt better than I did that year when I was shorn. When I think about all the work I was doing as a breeding male, what with keeping all the females pregnant, overseeing the little ones, and guarding my pastures, there were times when I got pretty hot and sweaty underneath my coat. I know the Pattersons are talking some about beginning to shear their males every year or so as part of their overall herd management program; their thinking is that those males might run a little cooler. Makes sense to me.

Q: Can you tell me about your last illness?

A: Last illness? It was my only illness! Aw, it was nothing! I hardly knew anything was wrong. Now that you mention it, though, I do remember that I felt pretty puny that last day. Then, before I knew it, I left the earth. Talk about an out-of-body experience!

I don't know much about what's under the hood, but I heard it had something to do with my kidneys - kidney failure, they called it. I guess a chronic infection had done too much damage to save me. I just felt bad for Dick and Kay, because they were so worried and did everything they could for me. It was February 14, 1983 when I left the earth - Valentine's Day. And I was going on eight years old too; just hitting my prime! It was a shame, I suppose, but you'd be surprised at how well I can keep an eye on things from up here.

Q: What do you think is your greatest contribution to your species?

A: Well, with my customary modesty, I guess I'd have to say I changed an entire look in the American llama. I was able to produce babies that looked like me, and that meant I created a whole lot of wooly babies. Kay used to call me unusual and unique and all that, but you know, I've got some sons who've gone on to do the same thing. I'm particularly proud of my boys "True to type," I always said about my kids - and I had 292 of 'em.

Q: What colors did you most often produce?

A: Oh, all kinds! I wasn't fussy. Most people thought I was an all-white llama, but I was foolin' 'em, because when I was shorn I had quite a few little tiny grey spots here and there. Naturally, those little spots didn't show when I had my full coat on.

Now, your average white stud likes to throw his own color, but not me, I didn't care. I sired all colors and combinations. In fact, I think I'm probably the only white male the Pattersons ever used for breeding.

By the way, it might interest you to know that quite a few of my offspring are still on the old homestead. When I last eyeballed the place, 11 of my sons and 35 of my daughters were still there!

Q: What was your most distinctive feature, other than your wool?

A: Dick and Kay would call me an "old fashioned" kind of llama. For one thing I had a rugged, powerful face, a real masculine look. Seems like a lot of folks want to see a delicate, feminine look on a male llama these days - I don't go for that at all. I call 'em "sissy faces."

I had a straight, strong back and straight, heavy legs. Oh, folks always used to carry on about the way I was built. I'm clueless as to where all my wool came from. I gotta be clear about one thing, though - I wasn't no alpaca, no way, no how!

Q: Kay has told me that you had perfect ears. What, in your estimation, make for beautiful ears?

A: She's right, my ears were mighty fine. They kinda curved together and they were narrow; they weren't real fat. Good ears also have to set just right on the head. I'm pretty sure Kay and Dick, being horse breeders, applied their horsey standards to ears, and that's what they prefer in llamas. Doesn't mean you can't have a good llama without 'em. It's just that I was a great looking animal and had perfect ears besides..

Q: What do you think of the tendency on the part of some breeders to go for smaller size and super wool?.

A: Well, I don't care one way or the other, but I know that Dick and Kay never believed in breeding for any one specific trait. Breeders who do that almost always run into problems. On the other hand, different folks look for different qualities in their animals, and I've always thought there's room for all kinds. I know I never minded what a lady llama looked like, so long as she was friendly!

Well I don't want to be rude, but you'll have to excuse me. I've got to get back to my meadow, so I'll be moseying along. Every once in a while a pretty little thing happens by, and the competition's just as keen up here as it ever was on earth. So I'll be seein' ya - ciao!

If you enjoyed this article and would like to see your favorite llama featured, please send me an e-mail with your suggestions at: betsy@llamacrossing.com.