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| Leoben, the bull, stands in the center with part of his harem of 18 cows |
It was a warm, sunny Saturday on Memorial Day weekend and
Ron and Suzanne Klein had just spent the morning at a community breakfast
hosted by the local fire department and the early afternoon with their
cheese-maker partners at Evergreen Lane Farm & Creamery.
Taking time away from Windshadow Farm & Dairy, their
newly-established goat and water buffalo dairy, has been difficult over the
past couple years, so this day began in an unusually leisurely and special
way. It was not to last.
Upon returning to the farm around 3:30 in the afternoon, Ron
let out his twelve heifer calves to their pasture, but they inadvertently took
a wrong turn into the 15-acre east pasture where the 18 cows and Leoben, a
1,600 pound, four-year-old bull and herd Sire, were lounging, chewing their cud
and enjoying the shade at the far south end.
Over the past year, the Kleins have separated the calves
(weighing up to 500 pounds) from the mature water buffalo (1500 to 1,800 pounds) so
they could protect the youngsters from being dominated by the cows, work with
the calves and prevent premature mating by the herd sire, Leoben.
Ron cautiously headed out into the pasture to fetch the
calves and guide them back, as he had done dozens of times before. Water buffalo have been domesticated for
over 5,000 years. They are intelligent
and if handled, quite docile. All the
cows had been handled, milked and groomed on a regular basis. Leoben, the bull, had been handled and
trained, too, but as with all bulls, he was always given due respect even
though he had never shown any overly aggressive tendencies.
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| Water buffalo calves leaving dry lot to go to their pasture |
As Ron approached the calves, they bolted away from him,
which was strange and unusual behavior.
When he turned, he saw the adult buffalo cresting a small hill. Ron was
between the calves and the adults.
Perhaps a few buffs thought it a game to chase the calves, and the
others followed.
Upon seeing Ron, several turned away, but the rest could not
and in an instant he was knocked down but able to roll out of the way of some
while one stepped on his left arm.
Ron rose to his knees dazed and his left arm throbbing. He was about 500 feet from the back fence on
the east side of the pasture. There
were several felled trees near the fence that would afford protection if he
needed it. Getting run over by the
adult water buffalo was an accident, and he knew it would not be repeated. The cows were between him and the nearest fence, so he headed toward the back fence when Leoben suddenly slammed into him from
behind with such incredible force, it sent him sprawling on the ground. Ron rolled, got up and faced the bull, who
was just a few feet from him.
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| Ron and two-year old Leoben at a more playful time in 2010 |
“He kept coming at me,” said Ron. “I pushed against his head to try to keep my body away from him,
but he just he kept coming. I shuffled
backwards to keep pushing myself away from him, but he kept knocking me down and trying to pin me into the ground. He was in a frenzy. When I got up, he lowered his head and came
at me. I arced over his head and he
hooked my belt with his horn, lifted me up and whipped me to the ground. Then, he ran carrying me on his horn and
whipping me into his sides like I was a rag doll. My heavy leather belt broke and I flew over his back and hit the
ground hard on my back. I rolled and
managed to get to my feet and head toward the back fence.”
Ron was in incredible pain and the bull’s unrelenting fury
was a terror beyond words. Ron had spent a lot of time with his animals. He had watched them push against each other,
even “spar.” He particularly watched
Leoben swing his head and often lower his head into the ground and dig with his
horns. Ron knew to move slowly,
deliberately among the buffalo and to face Leoben to keep him in view in order
to avoid him. Ron also knew he had to
stay on his feet.
As a result of decades of training in fundamental martial
arts and self-defense, Ron instinctively knew he needed to focus on the bull’s
sensitive nose and eyes to get him to back off.
“There was never much distance between us, he would back up
a step, lower his head and come at me,” Ron said. “I was able to side step, or push myself off and away. So when Leoben knocked Ron on his back, Ron
kicked the bull’s nose and mouth with the heel of his heavy work boots as hard
and as rapidly as he could. While on his back, the
bull tried to crush his head into Ron’s left side and pelvis. Ron kept pushing
himself away from the bull’s head.
After each attack, Ron managed to scoot and stumble closer to the fence
and felled trees.
The bull came at him again and Ron pushed him off, but the
bull swept his head sideways and hooked Ron in the left side and with
incredible force threw him into the air.
“That was the worst,” he said. “The bull threw me, and I seemed airborne forever. I hit the ground hard and was on my back
with the wind knocked out of me and in horrible pain. I felt my shirt getting
wet and sticky. I was bleeding. I
rolled and got up on one knee.”
The bull swept his head again and hooked the collar of Ron’s
shirt and started to run.
"He was dragging me!"
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| Ron and the water buffalo |
“I remember choking and could feel him moving. Then my shirt ripped,” said Ron. “But I got
up again and pulled the remains of my ripped shirt off. Blood was running down the inside of my left
arm and along my chest. Leoben bounced
at me again, got close and lowered his head.
I threw my shirt over his head and horns to cover his eyes. Then, I grabbed his right horn with my left
hand and pounded his left eye as fast and hard as I could with my right
fist. He responded by jamming his snout
up between my legs into my groin and lifting me up. I put my fingers into his eye to rip it out all the while cursing
him and calling for help. He threw me
off and backed away.”
Suddenly, the cows started running toward Ron and dominant
boss cows pressed into the bull. The
“Bingo Girls” as Ron calls them (B-13 and B-04 together with M-131) were
swinging their heads into the bull and squeezing him to shield Ron.
Ron tried to calm down the agitated cows.
“I got control of myself,” he said. “I shooshed the cows, talked to them, leaned
on them and petted them as they pushed on the bull. I got between M-131 and the bull and slowly backed toward the
fallen tree limbs.”
Nevertheless, the bull broke free and hit Ron in the front
at his waist and slammed him backward.
“When I fell back, my right hand touched a branch, and I hit
Leoben with it on the nose with everything I had. He finally stopped and backed off.”
Ron managed to step into the fallen tree limbs with the
fence only about 20 feet away. Then
everything stopped and became very quiet, he said. The whole scene was illuminated by a bright, soft, white
light. Glowing white posts or pillars
appeared in symmetrical rows crisscrossing the pasture.
“Everything was in slow motion except for me,” he said. “At this point I was hyper-vigilant and
wondered if I was going into shock. It
felt like I was in another world. I
seemed to float through the tree limbs.
Then I heard voices.”
“This way. Right
here,” they said.
“It was my Mom and Dad.
They were waving to me. They
were young, and I could see them as plain as day. But they had died. I was
stunned and could only stand and stare at them.”
“Come on,” they said, “right here. Come on, Ronny, right here.”
They directed him to the fence.
Two cows came up to him snorting, Ron flicked them
with a branch, and they turned and ran off.
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| Ron escaped the pasture over the electrified fence |
Ron walked slowly to the fence and set a branch on top of
the electric offset and into the field fence wire to wedge the hot wire
down. However, he could neither flex
his left leg nor grab the top of the fence with his left hand.
“Come on,” his parents repeated. “You need to go now.”
Ron put his right foot on the branch, pulled himself up with
his right arm and made it over the fence.
He said it felt like he was floating.
After his feet touched the ground, he felt the breeze in his face and
heard the rustle of leaves and birds singing.
The water buffalo were all grazing peacefully in the pasture. It was a
quiet and beautiful day.
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| the long walk home was a third of a mile |
Ron made a quick assessment of his situation. He was at the furthest point of the farm
property from his house—a third of a mile—but he could walk—or rather
shuffle. He could feel his fingers and
toes. There was no blood coming from
his mouth, his nose was bleeding, but his breathing was OK. His left forearm was swollen the size of a
grapefruit and possibly broken. His
left shoulder was swollen and possibly broken. He knew he had been gored under
his left armpit, but he did not know if an artery had been hit since there was
a lot of blood. He balled up part of his tee-shirt and shoved it in the hole
under his arm and clamped his arm down on it as hard as he could. His left
pelvis was “on fire with pain.” The back of his legs and thighs were burning; his
inner groin and waist area were throbbing. Since he had a long walk ahead of him following the fence line,
he kept talking out loud to stay alert and conscious.
“Home. Breathe
slow. Walk slow,” he told himself. “Don’t hurry. Count the steps. Feel the
fence. Stumble, fall, get up. Keep going.
Keep going. Go, go, go. Slowly.
Never stop. Never give up. Keep going.
One step at a time.”
For some bizarre reason he also remembered humming and
singing “Just Walk Away RenĂ©e,” a song from a movie he and Suzanne had watched
the day before.
As he came up to the hay barn, he saw Suzanne.
“I heard something strange while I was in the house,” said
Suzanne. “I came out with our dog, Max,
to see what was going on. We thought we
heard Ron’s voice and Max started barking. I could not tell where Ron was and started
toward the front pasture, but caught a glimpse of him along our north fence so
I changed directions.”
“I came around the dairy barn and he was walking toward
me," she said. "I was shocked. His chest and left arm were covered in
bright red blood, his tee-shirt was soaked and dripping with blood. His right hand and arm were covered in
blood.”
“I need help,” Ron told her. “Call Mike. Call
Derek. Call 911. 911, Mike, Derek.”
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| Mike Sullins |
Mike Sullins is a neighbor and farmer who had befriended the
Kleins since they moved to Windshadow Farm, and he has helped them in many
ways. Derek Babcock is the Bangor Fire
Chief, a highly trained and competent first responder and good friend
“We walked to my car, I got Ron in and drove across the
street to the Sullins’ house,” said Suzanne. “I saw Mike and called to him that
Ron had been hurt.”
Mike immediately called 911.
“Guys, I can feel the blood under my left arm,” Ron told
Mike. “I’m bleeding. Don’t know if I hit an artery. Jam something in there. Stop the bleeding.”
Mike took off his sweatshirt, folded it and crammed it under
Ron’s arm and pressed Ron’s arm down on it. Ron writhed in agonizing pain and continued to bleed.
Derek Babcock, arrived immediately, followed by Coloma
EMS. They evaluated Ron, checked him,
cut off his clothes and got him on a body board and into a neck brace.
“These guys know trauma, and they are well trained.” Ron
assured himself. “They are good, quick
and competent.”
Suzanne wanted Ron rushed to Bronson Hospital in Kalamazoo.
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| Derek Babcock with Ron, Suzanne and Mike Sullins' son, Mike |
Babcock called AirCare to have Ron air lifted to Bronson
some 25 miles away. He set up a landing
pick-up zone at the Bangor High School parking lot two miles from the farm.
In trauma cases time is of the essence.
When the ambulance reached the high school, the Emergency
Room doctor 12 miles away in South Haven ordered Ron to be brought there, so
EMS took him.
Although South Haven was only ten minutes away, it was a
long and “fricken painful” ride, said Ron.
While in the ambulance, Ron was given oxygen and medication to dull the
pain.
Throughout his rescue, Ron remained calm and awake, but his
normally high blood pressure began to drop.
“I kept asking about my vitals, trying to stay alert,” Ron said. “My blood pressure was dropping, which meant
internal bleeding. I knew time was
important.”
The controlled calm of the EMS crew was a sharp contrast to
the chaos at South Haven Hospital’s ER, according to Ron.
“When I was rolled into that emergency room, it was the only
time I remember being really scared. I
knew South Haven was not equipped to deal with trauma” he said, “and I did not
want to be there, I should not have been taken there. I needed to go to the Trauma Center in Kalamazoo.”
“Then I heard someone say ‘the ‘copter is here,’” said Ron,
“and I remember two people, the flight nurses, coming to me.
“My name is Sara.
This is Bob,” they said. “Your
pilot is Krystian.”
“I do not have enough words to describe how comforting that
was,” said Ron. “They talked to me as
they checked me out. Then they
said: ‘Lets go.’"
“What a relief,” he told himself. “Let the professional trauma specialists on the scene make the
call. Derek did, and he was right. Their job is to stabilize me and get me to
the Trauma Center pronto. These people are highly trained and skilled. They know their business.”
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| some bruises left after Leoben's countless poundings |
AirCare picked up Ron in South Haven and he found the crew
“wonderful, excellent, competent and in control.” He was taken to the Bronson Trauma Center where he received
similar treatment from the staff as they stabilized and evaluated him.
Trauma Center staff found that Ron had severe, heavy
bruising all over his pelvic sides, legs and back, but not one broken
bone! It was a miracle. The bull’s horn
had missed his lungs by a fraction of an inch and the vitals under his arm “by
a hare’s breath.”
“I was in lots of pain and sustained heavy, deep soft tissue
and bone bruises,” said Ron. “I had a huge hematoma on my left hip, and the crest of my pelvis was heavily bruised. It is amazing that there was no bruising on my chest or torso, except for the fist-sized gore hole under my arm. I was black and blue from my waist to my ankles. I never
lost consciousness since I fought to stay alert and do everything the EMS,
AirCare, and trauma experts needed."
Meanwhile, Mike and Suzanne went back to the farm to secure
it before they left for Kalalmazoo.
Suzanne was at the hospital before the helicopter and Mike arrived a short time
later.
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| stitched up gore wound under Ron's left armpit |
While he was at the Trauma Center, Ron, who is a retired
Senior Research Scientist from Pharmacia (now part by Pfizer) questioned the
antibiotic prescribed to deal with potential infection from the goring. Ron talked with the pharmacist who consulted
the doctor and both agreed that a broader spectrum antibiotic was called for.
Doctors performed surgery on the wound Saturday night, let
it vacuum drain and closed it on Monday, May 28. Ron spent two nights in critical care and was released Monday
night.
“It was a miracle to be coming home!” said Ron. “Any single
trample, head butt, toss or goring during the attack could have been fatal, and
it seemed to go on forever. There were six horn holes in the shirt I was wearing. It was a miracle.
I was lucky beyond imagination.”
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| Ron's shirt with six horn holes. His right hand is the point of Leoben's goring |
On the day after the bull attack, Suzanne went out to the
pasture to look for Ron’s things and found his hat, gloves, cell phone, belt
knife and pieces of clothing scattered over a three-acre area. His shredded shirt had six horns holes in
it. The scattered evidence indicated
that he did not take a straight route to the trees and over the fence 500 feet
from where he was first knocked down.
“If Suzanne had not been home I would have walked as long as
it took,” said Ron.
That would have been at least another 850 feet to the
heavily traveled County Road.
A couple weeks before the bull attack, the Kleins’ had sold
the water buffalo herd to a new dairy farm near Charleston, South
Carolina. After a series of delays,
they were awaiting arrangements for the transport of the buffs there. On Monday, June 4 the water buffalo made
their 17-hour journey to their new home.
Ron is now
recovering. Suzanne, an attorney, was
able to bring work home, and take over chores, including milking their 53 dairy
goats twice daily and caring for Ron.
Neighbors have dropped by with food and to help with chores.
All we want to do is live happily,” said Ron. “We just formed a new company, Meadowland
Divas, LLC, a partnership between Evergreen Lane Farm and Creamery and
Windshadow Farm & Dairy. We want to
get our grazing systems on line, milk our goats and make fine cheese. I have always told people that the
transition of sun, to grass, to milk, to cheese is a wondrous miracle. But, I’m adding surviving the bull attack to
the miracle list.”
“I cannot convey how thankful I am to be with Suzanne, and
how thankful I am for our friends, especially Mike Sullins and Derek Babcock,
and all of the EMS people. And I am thankful to be here talking to you. Isn’t it a beautiful day?”