The Fiduciary, 1984-2005
                                                                   A Tribute by Paul Taylor

In writing a tribute to The Fiduciary, a llama considered by most to be the top stud in the species in
modern times, I find myself thinking about his personality and character more than his records and
fame. He was a gentleman and a great friend to us.

From the day we came home to find him lying beneath his mother, a very athletic and beautiful black
and white tuxedo pattern female named Tiffany, we knew he was special. That was not just because
he was a rare light gray color and well conformed, but because he had a presence and an awareness
that we had never seen before. He was a unique animal and he commanded respect and admiration
from the beginning.

There are many memories for us to treasure now that he is gone, but these few will help you to know
who he was.

Almost from the beginning Fidoosh had a following among the llama breeders in the US. We had
promoted him in Llamas Magazine, and he certainly was photogenic, but more than that, he just
loved having his picture taken. Maybe producing beautiful babies, more and better babies than any
other male in North America, was his most important contribution to the gene pool, but posing for
photos was his real joy in life.

Whenever a visitor to the ranch entered his pen he would stop grazing, move out into the open and
strike a pose. You never had to make noises or flap your arms or throw your hat to get his ears up.
He never turned away or lost interest while the camera was on him. He soon learned that most
people wanted to see him up on the rail fence in his signature pose, so he would oblige with very
little coaxing.

As with almost any stud that is being used a lot, Fidoosh was fiercely jealous and aggressive toward
other males. We had to keep him in a pen by himself, and though he was adjacent to the field where
the main herd of females and babies spent the night, it must have been a lonely existence.

When he was about 10 years old we took in a barn cat. This was just a scruffy gray female cat that
someone had dropped off, quite wild and self-sufficient. For some reason, this cat adopted
Fidoosh, and he adopted her. They were seldom apart. When he was grazing on the hillside his cat,
Barnice, would be nearby or even under him. He gave her shade and protection from eagles in the
summer and when he bedded down in winter she would snuggle in under his wool until you
couldn't even see her. They were inseparable for several years, until one day she was gone, likely
the victim of a coyote or an eagle or great horned owl. Fidoosh pined for Barnice, went off his feed
and seemed listless for weeks afterward.

For many years we went to every Celebrity Sale, usually with one or two Fiduciary offspring and
usually we sold them for big prices. In October of '97 we decided to take Fidoosh along to
Oklahoma City so the folks could see him in person. He had a pen on "Stud Row" and while we
were busy with grooming or schmoozing potential buyers for our consignment llamas, we pretty
much left him to himself. To our surprise, he seemed to love this chance to interact with his public.
He stood at the front of his pen, even letting kids touch him. To keep him occupied we began to
allow people we knew and even some we didn't know take him for walks. By this time his attitude
toward other males had mellowed considerably, maybe because he knew he had no real rivals, so
there was never any snorting or screaming as he passed by other stalls. Every time he was led back
to his stall there would be someone else there waiting to take him for a walk. It got so we didn't
even have to be involved in scheduling. We would see him pass by from time to time with some
new admirer at the end of his lead.

When it came time for our consignment to sell (one of his daughters) we arranged for Fidoosh, as the
sire, to be led into the sales ring behind the sale animal as was common in those days. Sally led the
young female in when her lot number and name were announced. There was some confusion about
who was the buyer of the previous lot, so Tom and Tim were a little distracted and didn't get
organized to announce the entrance of The Fiduciary. I was leading him, and I decided to give him
a slack line, just walk along beside him and see what he did.

He walked straight out to the front and center of the stage, pushed his chest against the velvet rope
and scanned the audience from one side to the other. Still nobody had announced him, but a few
people in the audience recognized him, were riveted by his presence, and began to applaud.
Fidoosh stood stock-still and watched as the applause swelled. "The Fiduciary, ladies and
gentlemen," Tom Simmons finally said as he realized what was happening. The audience rose,
everyone, really, giving him the only standing ovation I ever saw given to a llama at Celebrity.  When
it was over, he turned and led me off the stage without looking back.

Toward the end of his life, Fidoosh began to lose condition and weight. He seemed listless going
into last winter, and there were many cold days when he never stood up at all. We were quite
worried about him and even began talking about putting him down before he deteriorated further.
Since he couldn't breed anymore because of arthritic hips, we thought maybe it would help him if
we put him in with the 'special needs' group, females about to deliver and those with new babies.
This proved to be a real tonic for him. His appetite improved and he was always up and interacting
with the babies. He even followed some of the new moms around orgling and bumping them and
occasionally getting spit on by one that had lost patience with this old fool. We had him on special
supplements and vitamins, but it was the interaction with the babies, I'm convinced, that caused him
to rally.

Finally this summer, inevitably, he began to fade. By this time we had him right in with the main herd
of females and babies, but one day he asked to get back into the pen where he had spent so many
years in splendid isolation. He staked out a position halfway up the slope and lay down where he
could see the whole ranch. There he stayed, unable or unwilling to rise or even to eat or drink. It
was obvious to us that he had chosen this place and this time for the end of his life, and so it was.