The first hint Dale Airsman got that his morning's chores might end badly was the unusual growl from Charlie, a 4-year old llama.

	Llamas have three sets of fighting teeth, seen in this skull.

The noise graduated to a high-pitched squeal, whereupon Charlie spit, flattened his ears back and bared his teeth, including the three sets of razor-sharp "fighting teeth," which llamas use to rip the scrotum from male competitors in the wild.

Fortunately for Mr. Airsman, an electronics technician from Jenner Township in Somerset County, Charlie went for his upper arm.

Charlie, who stood 6 feet tall and weighed between 400 and 500 pounds, attacked Mr. Airsman Nov. 13, knocking him to the ground, kneeling on his chest and cracking his sternum. Charlie also bit through his owner's biceps, right down to the bone.

A week later, the bone in Mr. Airsman's upper arm has a clear set of llama teeth marks in it, the compression fractures a permanent souvenir of what is called "berserk male syndrome."

After the attack, the Airsmans had Charlie euthanized. His head has been sent to a lab for testing.

It was a rare attack, one expert said, describing llamas as "wonderful pets and companion animals."

The llama had been living on the Airsmans' 160-acre property for about a month, said Mr. Airsman's wife, Lynora. "He was on probation," she said, because she had been told that the chocolate-brown llama didn't like men much.

Turns out, the feelings between Mr. Airsman and the llama were mutual. "I don't feel comfortable around them," he said. "I don't spend time with them. I'm not much concerned about them. My wife and her sister enjoy them."

Mr. Airsman remembers going out into the pasture that day to check on a fence line. When Charlie started getting aggressive, he tried to shoo him away with a stick, stamping his feet and yelling at him. That only seemed to make him angrier, said Mr. Airsman. Charlie reared up.

Mr. Airsman tried to run away, toward the electric fence which he could shimmy under on his belly, but the llama brought him down and bit down on his left biceps. He fought to free himself with his right hand, but Charlie wasn't letting go.

"I realized I wasn't getting anywhere, and I blacked out," he said. "I came to on the other side of the fence."

Mr. Airsman has no explanation for his escape, beyond "a divine miracle." He was able to walk the 150 feet to his house, where he promptly went into shock. He was taken by ambulance to Conemaugh Hospital in Johnstown.

Although experts are checking for evidence of rabies in Charlie's brain, the Airsmans are pretty certain the problem was his upbringing. According to the couple, Charlie had been cuddled and spoiled by the woman who raised him from birth.

"When they're real young, they're so cute, so soft and fuzzy, with those big eyes and long eyelashes, it's almost impossible not to cuddle them," said Lynora. Airsman, who has five other llamas. "She didn't treat him like a barn animal. Llamas need to bond to other llamas in the herd, not to other humans."

Charlie was socially maladjusted, and made no distinction between humans and llamas, Ms. Airsman said. He took Mr. Airsman for a competing male llama.

"It's a recipe for disaster if you're too sweet with them," said Cheryl Ryberg of Avalon, head of the Llama and Alpaca Show Association, who has a llama farm in Donegal.

"If you're too huggy-kissy with them, a male who has not been castrated can turn on you."