An Afternoon with the Alpacas

I write dark stories. People who disappear. Doors that close behind someone. That afternoon not a single line of them crossed my mind — because an animal with a very serious face and very soft ears looked at me as if I were the one who needed explaining.

What kind of afternoon it was

The Alpaka Alm Leonberg had invited people to an information afternoon: Friday, 31 July 2026, from 4 to 6 pm, at Falchenrot in 71229 Leonberg. On the poster at the foot of the path is the line we liked best — “400 metres further up”. So you walk a little further uphill, and then you’re there.

It wasn’t a market, and it wasn’t a show. It was an open afternoon: go along, look round the grounds, ask questions, get to know the animals. Exactly the kind of event you turn up to without a plan and walk back down from with a child by the hand and hay on your trousers.

Alpacas are remarkably calm creatures

Anyone who sees them up close for the first time expects something goat-like — jostling, a curiosity that nudges. Alpacas don’t do that. They come slowly, they look for a long time, and they decide for themselves when they’re close enough. Children who otherwise can’t keep still for a second fall quiet of their own accord. I watched it happen twice that afternoon, and both times I was astonished.

We were allowed to lead one of the animals a little way on its halter. Leading an alpaca mostly means one thing: going at the animal’s pace. It doesn’t pull, but nor does it simply stay put when you ask it properly. It comes along when it believes you.

The video is hosted on Instagram. It is only loaded from there once you click play — until then, no connection is made. More in the privacy policy (in German).

The people behind it

A farm like this doesn’t run itself. That afternoon we met the woman who runs the farm, and she made time for every question — even the ones from children who wanted to know for the third time whether an alpaca really spits. (Answer: really only at one another, and mostly when food is involved.)

Next to the farm’s own emblem, the poster carries a second logo: that of an organisation that looks after people. You can tell the place is meant not only for the animals but also for the people who come to see them. I think that’s the real reason it’s so quiet there.

Why this is on the blog

Because for years Leonberg has been more to me than the place where I live: it’s a setting. The Pomeranzengarten, the town hall steps, the light over the valley — much of it found its way into my books long ago, usually a few shades darker than it really is. The farm isn’t in any book. Not yet.

And sometimes it’s simply good to spend an afternoon not inventing anything wicked.

This post was neither paid for nor commissioned — we were there as a visiting family. The photos are from the information afternoon on 31 July 2026.