The Goat Who Waited in the Trap

The Trap in the Forest

By Huma Baloch

Ever since the forests began to disappear, our lives have become miserable. Once those green woods echoed with the chirping of birds and the rustling of leaves, but now — silence, emptiness, and danger fill the air. With the trees gone, the wild animals have lost their homes and food. The lions and wolves, starving and desperate, have started sneaking into our village.

When they don’t find deer or rabbits in the forest anymore, they attack whatever they can — calves, goats, sheep, dogs, even cats. In the last few days alone, several such attacks have happened in our village. One night, a lion came silently and killed a cow. The next night, a calf was dragged away. Then, a wolf devoured Tami, the headman’s loyal dog.

Fear gripped everyone. The villagers began whispering that the lion and wolf might soon start hunting humans, turning into man-eaters. Something had to be done. So one morning, all the villagers gathered at the house of the village chief — the Choudhry. Everyone started shouting at once, each blaming something different.

“This year it hasn’t rained enough,” someone complained. “All the ponds have dried up.”

Another said bitterly, “There are no trees left in the forest. Where are we supposed to find wood to cook our food?”

The Choudhry finally raised his hand and said, “Listen, my people. The real reason these wild beasts come to our village is water — and hunger. Because of deforestation, the small animals that lions and wolves used to eat are gone. We are the ones cutting down the trees. We are the ones who made them homeless and hungry. So, in truth, it is we who are responsible for these attacks.”

A man named Raheel spoke in a sad tone. “Choudhry Sahib, the lion has eaten my cow’s calf. Please think of a way to stop this.”

Then Ahmed Khan, one of the village hunters, stood up. “Let’s ask Rashid the blacksmith to make a strong iron trap. Once the lion or wolf steps into it, they’ll be caught. Then we can finally sleep in peace.”

Everyone agreed that this was a good idea. Rashid nodded and said proudly, “I’ll make such a trap that no lion or wolf will escape once it’s set.”

But then came another question — who would lure the beasts into the trap? Someone said, “We’ll need to tie a goat or a sheep nearby as bait.”

“I’ll give my goat,” said Abdul Hadi, my owner.

At that very moment, I, the goat tied to a post nearby, felt my heart stop. I had been quietly listening to every word. When I heard my master’s voice offering me as bait, the ground seemed to slip from beneath my hooves. My body trembled. I felt dizzy with fear and anger.

How could he? How could the man who fed me every day, who cared for my mother and sister, send me to die?

Tami, the dog who had died last week, came to my mind. He had barked all night when the wolf came. No one listened to him — and he sacrificed his life for it.

Among the crowd, a small boy named Muna sat on a cot, listening carefully. Suddenly, he shouted, “No! I won’t let you give away our goat. There are many others in this village who have plenty. Why should we lose ours?”

Everyone turned and stared at him. Ahmed Khan scolded, “Children should not speak when elders are talking!”

But Muna kept glaring at them, his eyes fierce with anger. For the first time, I felt warmth in my heart. Someone cared. Someone didn’t want me to die.

Muna was stubborn — I knew that. He could fight the whole village if he had to. We were a small family of three animals — my mother, my little sister, and me. If they tied my mother near the trap, she would surely die. My sister was too young, still feeding on our mother’s milk. Without her, she wouldn’t survive either. So, it was clear — I would be the one.

A few days later, Rashid finished the trap. It was a cruel thing — iron spikes, heavy chains, and a locking jaw that would hold any animal that stepped into it. The men took me to the edge of the forest where the trap was to be set. Muna cried, begged, and pleaded. “Please, don’t take her! Please!” But nobody listened.

They tied me to a wooden post near the trap. Around me, they placed some green grass and a bucket of water. They wanted it to look natural — as if a peaceful goat was simply grazing near the forest.

I stood there trembling. I could hear the chirping of crickets and the rustling of the dry leaves. The sun dipped behind the hills, painting the sky in orange and red. Darkness crept in, slow and heavy. I knew why I was there. I knew what would happen next.

I didn’t eat the grass. I only took a few sips of water to calm my dry throat. My eyes filled with tears as I thought of my mother and my little sister waiting for me back home. Would they know what happened to me? Would they ever understand that I didn’t want to leave them — that I didn’t want to die?

The night grew darker. The forest sighed in the wind. Somewhere in the distance, a wolf howled. I froze. My legs trembled so much I could barely stand. I wished Muna were there to hold me, to tell me it would be all right.

But only the sound of the trap’s cold iron greeted me — waiting for the beast... and waiting for me.