I was out working on “Super Max” yesterday when I heard two shots of a 22 hand gun. I knew what the sound meant. It came from my brother’s place. He had been putting it off and putting it off, but yesterday was the day to cull a three month old buck from his goat herd. I wandered over to his place to render any assistance I could.
Slaughtering an animal is a serious and somber occasion. It generates a lot of gravity for people that normally kill nothing larger than a rat.
Like me, he takes the animal that is to be culled far from the other animals. Death is swift and it’s the careful dressing that takes the time. We hung the goat from its back legs to let it bleed out from the slice across its neck. Once the blood finished dripping we let it down and restrung it by neck and horns and placed the offal bucket under to collect all of the innards as we gutted the kid.
We commented that more people would be vegetarians if they had to kill, bleed, gut, skin and butcher their own food.
Some of you may ask why this kid needed to be killed. Basically, it was because it was a buck. Most goat herds have only one make if one at all. Male goats (and sheep) when mature stink and can be very disruptive. They are worth a dime a dozen. My brother has dairy goats so his whole thing is milk production. You can’t milk a buck.