Stella the goat shows her wounds, after a battle with a Lynx in Dinorwic earlier this month.
John Cox of Dinorwic was cleaning up in the basement, getting ready for a day of ice fishing, when he got a call from his daughter.
He's in the house, already, so he picks up the call, and he talks with his daughter.
"Dad, where are you?," she asks. "There's a cat attached to our goat!"
He goes upstairs to see what's the matter.
"Sure enough. There's Stella.
That's our biggest goat. The mother of the three.
She's got this wildcat attached to her neck. Absolutely. The claws are dug into her shoulders. The back claws are dug into her haunches. The mouth was wrapped around her neck, and she was hemorrhaging," Cox remembers.
The goat was screaming, as it tried to use its horns to dislodge the lynx. Cox went back downstairs to get his rifle. It was a British .303 Second World War model, and it came with a bayonet and an extra magazine. Then he went back upstairs, so he could get a shot at the lynx.
"I open the door, and Stella sees me at the door," he recalled. "Just as I open to take the shot, she bursts the door open,
and now both animals are inside the living room."
Comment: The same sort of attack scenarios seem to be happening on a daily basis between animals (both wild and pets) and humans, begging a more logical answer than random occurrence. Do increasing earth changes, EM frequencies and the collective human psyche play disruptive roles in the animal kingdom manifesting as aggression? If so, perhaps these elements also partly account for the steadily rising human aggression in many parts of today's world on a much larger scale than rampant neighborhood dogs.