All this talk of eating the Orme Goats prompted a prominent member of this Forum to contact me with this fantastic story.
Its all true, but the member in question wishes to remain anonymous, well just for now...
Just after the war, the member in question and their family had nowhere to live! So they dwelled for a time in the gunsite buildings on the Orme's western slopes.
Food was on short ration, so the Father shot wild rabbits for food for his family.
Every now and again, the odd goat might 'accidentally' get in the way.
When this happened, there was a surplus of meat, which couldn't be stored (no fridge or freezer), so the member's father sold it in the town, and passed it off as Venison!
No one ever twigged, and repeat orders were frequent.
I love this account, (and more which came my way) I do't think it should be anonymous any longer... in fact it deserves to be written into a book.