Tag Archives: escape

Running out of titles

We’ve had The Goat Escape and we’ve had ‘scapegoats so I’m running out of goat-related escape references.

That’s the trouble with goats, they can escape quicker than I can think of new puns. I’m thinking of Kidnapped and Do Androids Dream of Electric Fences? but neither of them are quite right.

We were on the way home last night. I stopped and looked left to check it was safe to drive out and…

…I was close to driving off, but my conscience got the better of me. At 7 pm I have better things to do than round up livestock for farmers who can’t keep their fences in order. On the other hand it isn’t fair on the goats or passing drivers to let livestock wander free.

Once we got them trapped and moving they went back in the field without too much trouble, which was good because they had escaped via a neighbour’s orchard and it could have been complicated to get them back. Instead we just got them moving in the right direction and waved a few branches (broken from nearby hedges) at them. They love eating hedges so they just followed Julia back to the field to chew on the branches.

It’s simple when you know how.

I’ve included a couple of pictures of the village pinfold. Under the 1959 Highways Act it is still lawful to detain an animal in the pinfold if it is found wandering on the road. This happened to us once – we had a phone call to say there was a goat on the road but couldn’t find it. When we did track it down someone had shut it in the pinfold, where it was busily chomping its way through the floral display. We were multiply unpopular after that.

 

 

Trials and Tribulations

Sorry for the lack of communication this week, it’s been one of those weeks. Whether I can accurately describe it as hectic, or whether I should just put it down to lack of application is one of those grey areas. There has certainly been plenty happening, but I have also spent a lot of my spare time in displacement activities.

I was going to rectify this as soon as we arrived on the farm this morning but the flock of chickens that came to look at us as we unlocked the centre indicated that all was not well.

They are supposed to be on the field by the vegetable plot. I sometimes wonder if we are a little tactless in putting them so close to the carrots and potatoes that will accompany them to whatever afterlife a chicken may have, but what they don’t know won’t worry them. The same goes for feeding apple pulp to the pigs after we have been juicing.

We’re not sure what had happened but it looks like someone has opened the doors and just let them out. One of them has a badly fitting bolt that needs leaning on to make it shut, and if it needs me to lean on it then you can be sure that no flapping chicken or gust of wind has accidentally opened it. Even if that had happened, what is the chance of the second coop opening too?

It’s either kids, the provisional wing of the Chicken Liberation Front or an egg collector with no common sense.

I hope they don’t do it again as we’re still in mourning over Nelson the white(ish) cockerel.  About a week ago I mentioned how the farmyard flock seemed to lead a charmed life regarding predators. Two days later we arrived to find a cloud of pale feathers and a distinct lack of cockerel. Looks like a fox caught him out. The main picture shows him from his good side – he was blind in the other eye, hence the name, and possibly why he didn’t see the fox in time.

Anyway, after some gentle persuasion most of them pottered back into the coops and the rest were safely locked away after some scrambling that looked like the training scene from Rocky.

The Goat Escape (apologies to Steve McQueen…)

A couple of days ago I posted a picture of our goats on Twitter (@QuercusCommy if you’ll pardon me plugging it) with the words “Our goats exist in only two states – escaping or planning to escape. These are planning.”

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Last night they appear to have disabled the electric fence (we’re not quite sure how but I have a vision of one lying down while the others walked across it like a bridge) and decided to browse the trees. They aren’t very ambitious, I’d have been halfway to Skegness by now but they just chewed a few leaves and waited for us to round them up.

We used to have one that was even more annoying than an escaper. She used to wedge her head through the wire (we didn’t have electric fencing for the goats at that point) and then bleat piteously.

Several times a day we’d have people come down to the office with the words “One of your goats has got its head stuck in the fence.” Then she wouldn’t do it for a few days, you’d relax and then there would be another knock on the door…