A Landmark for Llamas

First they fought to keep a giant heap of compost. Then residents rallied behind a pair of frontyard llamas. In both cases this month, county officials gave the nod for what have become symbols of Altadena’s mountainside funkiness.

The Regional Planning Commission on Wednesday approved an animal permit for a family to keep two adult llamas in a corral in front of their cottage on North Marengo Avenue. You’d never know it by looking at the gentle South American ruminants, with their long eyelashes and curious demeanor, but they have created quite a controversy in the last two years.

To understand the dispute, you must use your nose--allegedly. On two recent visits, the two geldings, Chocolate and Magic Maker, smelled no worse than, say, friends with a lot of cats or an uncle with a hygiene problem. A little gamy, but tolerable.

But some neighbors say the animals are downright “putrid.” Jesus Sierra, 75, described his reaction to the odor: “It makes you want to throw up. It’s like when you’re hung over and someone is cooking some big breakfast. You have to hold your breath.”

Across the street, Chester Neroes, 79, said he doesn’t turn on his air conditioner because it will suck in the rancid scent. And no more backyard barbecues, he says--what with the swarms of flies.

On hot days and when it rains, Neroes said, he can barely go outside because the air is so heavy with the smell of llama dung. “My wife is in there all day spraying Lysol.”

The animals’ owners, Susann Edmonds and Ray Sobieski, say the controversy stems from an unrelated dispute between them and Sierra, who lives next door. The two neighbors can’t stand each other.

Sierra claims the couple cut his fruit trees and cussed him out. They claim he is a nosy looky-loo.

But what, Sierra asked, “would I look at them for?” He explained that before he put up a solid wood fence, his eyes would inadvertently stray when the couple were hosting backyard parties. “You couldn’t help but look. They were acting like a bunch of fools.”

Both sets of homeowners complain that the other intentionally blasts music at them through outdoor speakers.

“To counteract them, I put these speakers here and played the dirtiest, nastiest rap music I could find,” said Sierra.

From her Cape Cod-style home, Edmonds played her own song back: “Serenade to a Jerk.” She says she is going to seek a restraining order against Sierra to keep him off her property.

All this rancor spilled into the Regional Planning Commission meeting on Wednesday. Edmonds, 42, presented a list of 465 supporters and described children’s visits with the animals. One eighth-grader, she said, did a science project and concluded that llama wool and fiberglass were the best insulators.

Sierra’s advocates testified to the smell that they say has destroyed their quality of life.

In the end, the three commissioners present voted that, because the area is zoned for other livestock, they could not discriminate against llamas.

Meanwhile, Chocolate, 4, and Magic Maker, 3, are oblivious to their detractors. Their corral is right next to Marengo, and passersby look in and pet them. (The 200-plus-pound llamas apparently don’t spit.) Their owners--Edmonds owns a salon and Sobieski drives a tow truck--take them on walks like dogs.

In ways, their frontyard is a mini-Eden.

On Friday morning, Sobieski groomed Chocolate, then stepped onto his lawn and held some peanuts in the air. A jay promptly swooped down onto his hand as Sobieski laughed at Magic chewing on a rope. “Magic’s flossing,” he said.

A woman stopped by to rave about the animals. “I’m just so happy. I love these llamas,” she said.

All part of life in Altadena. The llama dung occasionally even gets trucked a few blocks away to Tim Dundon, a.k.a. Zeke the Sheik, who won a reprieve earlier this month to keep a 40-foot-high pile of compost next to his house. That’s another story.

Edmonds and Sobieski are thinking of buying a baby llama and entering Pasadena’s Doo Dah Parade. “I want a little white one so I can dye her pink,” said Edmonds.