Last Saturday whilst I was out feeding & putting my poultry to bed, Pan took offense to me & attacked. He got 1 of his horns round my leg & pulled, landing me flat on the ground. Usually, if I had a stick, he'd leave me alone, but not this time & he just kept coming at me. How do you tell a puc that he's won & just go away & leave you alone? He shouldn't even be out of his field, but some "helpful" person keeps letting him out.
Anyway, I get up & try to get on with putting the poultry away, but he comes at me again & down I go after he's ripped holes in my anorak. I try to edge away on my bum & end up going around the hay barn, always facing him & trying to keep him away with my feet. This works until I end up in the coppiced area & on up along the bank/dry stone wall. He moves around me & starts on my right side. Things are further complicated by darling Pahn (called for the Protector god!) who decides that he really, really needs fuss & attention. Fighting a puc goat is hard enough at the best of times without a tom cat trying to sit on your face & chest, especially when said puc is keeping up a constant pressure on your ribcage. At 1 point I managed to get him back on my feet long enough to call Site & try to get help from there. (Annon, of course, was nowhere to be seen ~ away off on her bike ~ so she couldn't ring/go for help).
I knew full well that Pan wanted me dead & if I let him puc/butt me I'd have been utterly helpless, so I just tried to keep pressure against his horns & forehead all the time with whatever part of my anatomy was closest to him. He did try to go for my left side, so I swung round (still on my bum in the mud), to let the wall/bank protect that.
Craig & Joe came up & as soon as Pan saw them he left me alone. Joe got the heavy duty chain I'd bought to secure a gate & he & Craig chained Pan to a telegraph pole whilst he was eating from a bucket of feed I'd run & prepared to distract him.
On Tuesday I asked Steve in the pet shop if he had a shotgun as he arranged to deliver dog food to me this day. He said that he no longer had 1, but a friend did. Friend came into shop shortly afterwards & we discussed the demise of Pan. Friend is a butcher & was quite happy to come out with Steve & finish Pan off.
Yesterday, as I was on the computer, I heard screaming & looked out my window to see Remus (the quiet young puc) with 1 of his fore legs jammed between Pans horns, with Pan doing his best to break the kid's leg. I went out to see if I could help & eventually kid pulled free & limped off on 3 legs, the other tucked up underneath him. He got far enough away from Pan to be safe & then sank down & stayed put. I had visions of trying to strap up a goat leg with sticks & greyhound bandage, but by eveniong he was using the leg again.
Steve & Liam came up this morning with dog food & a sharp knife. It took the 2 men to get Pan on his side & even then he was trussed up with flex before he was restrained enough to be stuck. I think it surprised both men that this was such a big heavy goat & I only had bad bruising from my encounter. He was a heavy, strong & powerful animal. There wasn't much blood & Pan died after a while.
This afternoon Scotty & Gary came up to remove the carcase. Apparently there's a fight going on on Site as to who will get the horns! It took both men to carry Pan slung over a pole & even then they needed a break part way. Scotty estimated his weight at 2 hundredweight & was surprised at the thickness of his neck. Scotty is going to behead him, bury the head to let nature clean off the skull, skin him, gut him & spit roast him before making goat curry. He's promised me some of the meat, despite my protestations that we don't eat meat!
So Pan, the magnificent Puc is gone. Scotty counted his horn rings & put him at 12 years old, so he's had a long life for a boy goat. My back is hurting now, as is every other part of me that came into contact last Saturday with that murderous goat. I don't think I'll ever know what made him suddenly turn & attack me, but once again I survived & for that I'm very thankful
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6 comments:
Grateful you are in one piece enough to tell the tale!
Whew!
I'm very grateful that I'm not head to toe in plaster & that I am alive. Editing tools have gone again, or I'd have posted piccies of him. On his hind legs, he was taller than me ~ even my Wolfie is only as tall as me when standing on 2 paws
Yikes, Killi. What a terrifying experience that must have been.
I kept swinging between frustration at cat climbing over my face/chest, missing dear friend who should have returned home the Tuesday before & terror at what the goat could do if I didn't pay attention to him. Then once Joy had told me that the Lads were coming up, just wanting them to be here NOW. The really frightening time was after he was chained up ~ would his collar & the padlock hold him (I knew the chain would) until he could be killed: imagine a furious goat who had broken away from his tether & no means left of securing him. We got into the habit of checking him from my bedroom window before daring to leave the house. I'm seriously considering Nubians for the future
Bast#$d. Glad he's gone. Grrrrr. (And I don't even know you, but it just makes me mad)
Welcome MeadowLark.
I'm glad he's gone too ~ the ingrate. I gave him a home after he & his girly (she died last year) were dumped by the river. Looking back now, he does remind me a bit of my ex, so your appellation is very apt & just needs "arrogant" to really make it fit!
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