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September 4, 2006
The Great Mountain Goat Safari
I went across Webster Pass today, and up Radical Jeep Hill, where I discovered a small heard of mountain goats grazing peaceably. I stopped my ATV abruptly. They were technically wild, but practically domesticated, as they betrayed no fear of humans. There were a couple of guys with rifles and jeeps and spotting scopes and all things manly and mechanical, so I stopped to talk to them. They were really cool guys, and they offered me a beer, which I accepted.
"Is my ATV ok there?" I asked. I had parked behind one of the jeeps, and these guys were fairly well armed, so it's best to make belt-and-suspenders sure that you're not offending. An armed society is a polite society, is it not?
"Nah. You're fine right there."
Eventually, I they let on that they were technically hunting mountain goats. Or, more accurately, scouting for mountain goats.
"You mean, like these mountain goats here?" I asked, pointing to one that was nibbling on the mudflaps on my ATV.
"Yeah."
"Aha. And you're going to shoot that animal with a .300 mag?" I clarified.
"Yep."
"I'd aim for the neck, if I were you" I offered. Otherwise, there would be little left of the game, I surmized. A full grown mountain goat would be about the size of a mature Siberian Husky.
Somewhere off in the distance, a pack of coyotes closed in for the kill. Splittling the late afternoon silence with a maniacal, furious explosion of splendid howls and squeals. Another herd of mountain goats in the valley below scaled a little higher. The goats around us gathered, in unison, to look for the coyotes. The largest ones assumed the most prominent rocks and attempted to spot the predators in the valley below. Behind, and above them, the youngest goats butted heads, scrimaging for that familiar adolescent dominance.
I could never see the coyotes. I doubt the goats did either, but I can't be sure.
I stayed and talked to the hunters for some time.
The goats moved around in loosely organized herds, quietly mowing the alpine tundra. They tried to eat my camera. My ATV. Occasionally, they'd butt heads and challenge each other, perpetually defending their personal space.
"Is mountain goat good eating?" I mused aloud.
"I am not sure." one of them offered. "I asked a museum in Breckenridge if they wanted a full mount of one, and they said they'd take it. Of course, they don't want to know where it came from."
"Of course. This is the way of tree-huggers." I agreed. "Always want someone else to do their killing. Never want the blood on their hands. Tell them it was road kill. Then they can sleep at night."
"That's about right." one of the hunters agreed.
"Good luck with your hunt, gentleman. Keep your powder dry." And, with that, I was off to Wiseman's Cabin.
Update: A non-resident mountain goat permit for 2006 costs...wait for it...$1,656.00.
http://wildlife.state.co.us/Hunting/SeasonDatesAndFees/BigGameDatesAndFees.htm
Posted by Peenie Wallie on September 4, 2006 at 10:43 PM
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