USA: Stateside Mountain Goat

[Firebird]

Since there isn't much to write about from the hunting side on the African continent I thought I would dredge up one of my favorite hunts from the states-give you all something to read about over tomorrows breakfast cereal.
Its been over a decade ago when I drew a once in a lifetime mountain goat tag. In my home state of Utah you can apply for and draw one tag in your lifetime of several of the higher class species. I spent over ten years applying for mtn goat before I drew my tag. Most of my hunting is done with a bow and I planned to try that method first in the Uinta mountains. My father in law is a hardcore hunter and horse/mule guy and insisted we do the hunt "the right way." Which meant pack in on the four leggeds and tent camp. I've done this same method in the same place for ptarmigan, being a die hard bird guy and would be grateful for the pack animals as well as my brother who insisted on joining us. My wife was SUPER pregnant with my first daughter and was NOT HAPPY about the whole darn thing. She did not understand the entire once in a lifetime concept and already resented her dad for spending most of her life gone on his hunting adventures. The neutral ground was that this would be a rifle hunt and less than five days. I had seen goats there when we were hunting white tail (ptarmigan) and was sure I could get one with a rifle and the bow seemed maybe a bit of a stretch.
So one week into September we loaded gear and weighed packs and loaded mules and one hate filled paint horse aptly named "rodeo" into pa in laws trailer and away we went. Landed on the Wyoming side and rode away from the sunrise. I somehow got stuck on rodeo and he somehow lurched away from me the very first time I tried to swing into the saddle. This was the first time my father in law heard me say the "F" word and also the first time when I grabbed that damn horse face to face with both hands on the bridle and threatened to put a bullet in his head. . .

 

[Firebird]

The horse and I came to an understanding after that and we began the long ride into the backcountry. There are good trails into most of the Uinta range and we made good time. Past a couple hunters coming out with their goats and a couple guys taking horses in to pack out an elk they had taken. Late in the day we rode off trail and uphill until we found a nice little flat with a trickle of water for us and a bit of browse left by domestic sheep for the mules. Each of us set up a tent and started building our own dinners. Memory has blurred dinner but I would bet on mtn house stroganoff or chili mac and some kind of flavored powder dumped in to my filtered water bottle. Drink twice as much as you think you should before you walk to the edge of the flat and sit till dark looking around the basin for goats. Tylenol pm to help me through the night and control the dreams of goats around every boulder. We did see some goats but in tough spots for a harvest. My father in law is a taxidermist (as am I but I only do birds-I literally met my wife through taxidermy) and we talked about horn judging and size and agreed that to me, great hair was more important than "book" horns. Any goat is legal but I did want a billy. Was carrying my .300win mag 700 remington and 180 grain handloaded accubonds.

 

[Firebird]

Up before light the next morning. Checked to make sure the stock is still local and no sores on their ankles. Made oatmeal packages for breakfast. One trick my father in law taught me is to pack powdered milk which when mixed into oatmeal makes it creamy, smooth and delicious, also extra protein. Then we loaded our packs and headed up, always up. . . I snapped a pic of the gps at 12000 feet and we weren't to the ridge line just yet. My father in law killed a giant goat here years ago and he wants to look at the terrain again. That day there wasn't a single goat in sight. We worked pretty hard to see a pika or a marmot. The cool morning turned into a clear blue day and warm. Layers, layers are a good thing especially when you take several off! These were the days before kuiu and sitka and all the rest and I'm pretty sure I was wearing wrangler jeans and you can all guess how comfy they are for hiking. Merrell boots I think which were awesome. No goats spotted by lunchtime. Ate an apple, protein bar and a can of tuna fish and wheat thins on the mountain. Watched a weasel chase down and chew the head off some sort of mole. Back at camp and we can see goats far off with the big scope, in the red rock scrabble and shale, some in a boulder field, others in the red cliffs. We decided to break camp, load stock animals and move closer to the lakes up the trail from us.
We are pretty adept at this task but it takes time and my horse thinks we are heading home and wants to be in the lead. So I point him up the trail and give him my heels and off we go. A bit of trouble with one of the mules at a creek crossing but some judicious use of the lead rope and we get to where we are headed. Can find loads of ptarmigan sign but no birds and some mule deer and even a distant bull moose and we can see more goats. Evening was coming on fast so we laced up boots and hiked to the first lake. A nanny and grown kid came down to drink at rock throwing distance. Then they move on and just for giggles climb a verticle cliff face. We plot out the goats we can see. Three here, an old weathered giant up there, a single lying on a cliff edge over there. I like the look of the one lying down. Young but flawless hair and all by itself. A monster billy is at exactly 500 yards up the cliff face. His pelage is ragged and stained red and one length of hair is blowing in the wind like a sheet on a clothesline. We would have done him a favor by killing him, end of the summer and he is ragged and still not slicked off and growing new winter coat. But if I shot him, the fall would churn him like butter and then the taxidermist would really be upset with me. At dark we drop back into camp for more mtn house. I remember this as the night I knocked over my mtn house just as I tried to open it and ruined the whole bad. Had to start over which takes time and I was awful tired by that point.

 

[jacques smith]

Damnit. Don’t stop now

 

[Firebird]

The next day is more hiking and using the big scope to find what is in the area. The goats have seen hikers and fisherpeople all summer and are somewhat used to the two legged spectacles. Late in the day while my brother fishes, me and the pa in law find a herd of nannies and kids bedded behind a jumbled boulder ridge deceptively hidden behind the top lake in that basin. Sure wish I had my bow as I stalked up to one very old nanny without any offspring. Would've been happy to tap her with an arrow but will let her lie since I have the rifle along. My rifle was a gift from a (late) friend in North Carolina. I call the rifle "Big Frank" and it is probably my favorite rifle. I have since then had the stock stripped and restained with a darker, non glare covering. That rifle also took a 200 inch Wyoming muley for my brother after this hunt and made a trip to the East Cape where it took 20 animals as me and my brother shared it during our safari. Father in Law asked where I was gonna shoot a billy when we found "the one." Told him that was up to him since he was gonna have to mount it. His suggestion was to take the high shoulder shot and hope to catch the spine so it wouldn't get to a place where retrieving it would be bad and definitely try not to have one barrel off a cliff into the shale and boulder morass below. As evening came on a fast moving storm came through blowing sleety snow. We were camped at about 10,700 feet and I assure you I was out of breath just sitting still. My brother was having a fine time catching brook trout, cutthroats and planted "tigers"-which is a cross between a brown and a brook trout. Small but beautiful. He wandered into camp after dark and dinner was already cleaned up. He said the fishing was worth missing dinner.

 

[mark-hunter]

Pls continue, the story reminds me of how I imagine hunting by mountain men in the old west!
Great story so far!

 

[Firebird]

Sorry trying to balance high school girls soccer, bow hunt for elk and kids going to school for first time since early March. I ran into this angry little fellow hiking in to my tree stand last evening. Only deer came in last night, no elk. Was thinking how cool it would be to have a “badger Slam”. With a European, American and African honey badger all mounted nicely. -silly daydreams maybe

 

[Firebird]

Next morning we were up early, clear skies and crisp, cold air! Boiled water for oatmeal and breakfast bars. Left the mules in camp and the three intrepid hunters started toward that rocky ridge on the backside of the upper lake. I was huffing and puffing and making excuses-when its cold the oxygen content is even lower than usual etc etc. . . From a big boulder pile we had three young billies at four hundred yards on the face of an immense shale slide. What they were eating I have no idea in that barren rock field. Made our way past the pika homestead with its stacks of drying vegetation tucked in and around every rock for fifty yards square and runs in between. I put those three billies in the crosshairs of the leupold for minutes at a time but just didn't see what I wanted. All three had clean, even hair and carbon copy horns and were in a good recovery spot. I just felt like we had more options to check out.
There was a tight, steep ledge we had to creep along to get to the next vantage point. I'm not too proud to admit I did it on my hands and knees. I'm not a small man and figure I would ruin the scenery if I fell down a cliff into the rocks. Once around this we saw the single billie that usually was bedded on a ledge. He had fed into a low spot in the rocks and was apparently sucking the lichens off the rocks because I cannot see what else he could find to eat!
Father in law put him in the spotting scope at about 500 yards and through the leica we knew exactly what he was. Perfect hair, a bit short but no stains or rubs or ragged spots that weren't shed off yet. Horns very average and probably a three year old male based on short face and not much shoulder "hump." The key to his demise was that he was in a spot I felt like he wouldn't fall or roll and scar up his face and legs. Also he was eminently stalkable. Father in law stayed with his eye in the big scope and me and my brother worked into a rock chute and then behind the well placed truck sized boulder to within 300 yards. I'm actually a bit foggy on this range because my brother ranged him and I remember thinking I should hold four inches high to hit the shoulder blades and anchor him. I think my brother's rangefinder isn't like mine and didn't account for the steep angle. At any rate, I was excited thinking this was a once in a lifetime shot. I laid my fanny pack on a boulder and by standing tall I was able to get a very steady rest. Held right on top of the hair over his shoulder and squeezed off.
This was back when all I did was bowhunt and rifles were not important to me yet. So the trigger was the original remington setting and a 4-12vx2 leupold sighted in for 200 yards and the bullets were handloaded 180 gr accubonds. I used my uncles reloading equiptment back then, hadn't bought my own at that time. I can't even remember now how I came up with the recipe but its the one I still use, with 69.5 grains of imr 4350 to get 3050 fps. You may notice that rifles eventually became important to me and now I am a full blown reloading nerd, limited only by a budget and small but growing number of personal rifles.
The bullet hit the billie exactly on the spine and he was down and done. I had fully hammered the arteries that follow the spine and all that flawless white hair was quickly becoming a blood sponge. And as goats will do-he gave a couple kicks and started to roll. I stood there helpless watching the blood spot get bigger and the red dirt doing its part and the rocks taking their toll. When I finally got up to him (no oxygen remember) I recall thinking he was ruined.
We did the posing thing for pictures, back before camera phones-and looked at his teeth and his cool feet and the un interesting horns. Father in law was worried that I was upset that it wasn't bigger. I told him I just felt bad the hide was ruined. He thought that was funny and we started skinning it off for a full body mount. Later my father in law would spend hours with his own toothbrush in an ice cold pool of water in the rocks getting most the blood out right there on the mountain. I boned meat out and cleaned it up and cut the skull plate off and pulled a tooth to send the fish and game dept. Funny how apples always taste amazing on the mountain.

 

[Firebird]

Two thoughts as I review the pix-orange is required on rifle hunts. No idea why I wore it tho. No other hunters In the area and it looks out of place in the pix. Would keep the hat but probably opt for a flannel shirt from my pack next time.
Also yes I am left handed but shooting a right handed action. My dad didn’t have left handed rifles so we learned to shoot what was in the closet. I bet he didn’t even notice that I shot it off my left shoulder. I still don’t own a left handed rifle but my brother eventually bought his rifles as lefties. I load ammo for him and the left handed rifles are awkward for me to shoot!

 

[JimP]

Great story and adventure and a nice goat to go along with it.

As a fyi, I would have to look at the regulations but Utah DWR dropped the requirement to wear orange on once in a lifetime hunts. But I can't remember just how long ago.

 

[gillettehunter]

Great hunt. Congrats on the goat
Bruce

 

[Matt_WY]

Awesome! Just hoping to draw a goat tag one day!

 

[jacques smith]

Excellent job on review. As a past guide I’ve watched a couple tumble off the steepest places enough to appreciate your paying attention to where to take shot. Thanks for trip down memory lane

 

[PHOENIX PHIL]

Congrats and nice story!