Incident Report # 2017-01-06. Documented disaster involving: 8-month-old LaMancha doeling. Small brownish female ruminant with four legs. IQ: normal but no genius. Temperature: extremely cold. Name: Coco. Sire: Moony. Dam: Marti. Doeling was unsupervised by parents at the time of the disaster. They were busy with their own affairs, according to witnesses at the scene.
Ok the farm officer arrived and began feeding. The farm officer looked around dully and then said "I thought I heard a distant screaming? Or maybe it was more of a distant moaning?"
What else is new, said the expression on Eo's face as she shouldered her way to the front of the line.
The farm officer trundled off to feed the bucks and then came back.
"There is definitely some sort of distant moaning. Or maybe more of a muffled screaming?" insisted the farm officer, then began spraying the flashlight over everybody. No one was distant moaning or muffled screaming as everyone was stuffing their face.
The farmer stumped out the back of the barn and began spraying the flashlight over the field and did not see anything. The farmer sprayed the flashlight over into the neighbor's field and did not see anything. The farmer turned and started back to the barn and then the distant moaning came distinctly from the little decrepit shed near the water tank. A sad hopeless defeated heartrending weak moaning.
The farmer stumped over to the tiny shed which was built with the uphill side resting on the ground and the downhill side resting on two pier blocks. It was built many years ago as a private home for Baby Belle. For 14 years the shed stayed on its pier blocks. Now it was off.
I do not intend to incriminate anyone but the reason it was off its blocks was because two lumbering oafish suspects Xie Xie and Schwinnie had a battle and they both t-boned into the shed simultaneously with their cinderblock heads and knocked it off its piers. Unfortunately for Coco she was inside the shed when this happened.
The shed came off its piers, tipped up in the air on the uphill side as the downhill side moved, slid a few inches downhill, then dropped back down directly on Coco's head. From the looks of things she was lying flat enjoying a refreshing nap at the time the house dropped on her. According to the flashlight Coco was panting heavily but did not appear able to move any of her extremities (legs) and the farmer began swearing spectacularly but in a comforting tone, patting Coco and then finally saying, "it's okay, Coco, we will get you out."
Oh really how? We all looked on with interest. The farmer pushed on the shed and it did not move even one millimeter. The farmer left and in a few minutes was back, aboard the tractor, which was loaded with mysterious implements and 2-by-4s and blocks and shims and tools and the screw-on forklift forks.
And thus began the slowest rescue operation ever conducted. First the farmer took the wall off the back of the shed to make it easier to see. Then the lifting, then the shimming, shimming then lifting, inch by inch the shed went up into the air. In the distance we could hear the seals barking in the moonlight down in Joe's Bay. Finally Coco was free but she didn't move. Probably her neck was broken.
"Great," wheezed the farmer. "that's just great."
By the light of the tractor headlamps the farmer slowly and laboriously dragged Coco out from under the shed. By this time it was about 25 degrees. Gently the farmer stood Coco up on her feet. She held herself up for a couple of seconds, then sank to the ground shivering. Neck not broken!
Coco was rushed by Kubota ambulance to a private stall and covered with blankets and filled with warm drinks and propped between two bales to keep her upright and dosed with vitamin b and other goat remedies.
In the morning she was almost fine. "People would not believe the things that happen around here," the farmer said to Sammy after breakfast.
No charges were filed although they probably should have been but the witnesses would not cooperate.
Further your affiant sayeth naught.