Spurred on by our successful moose hunt, Blair and I were determined to connect on a goat. We woke early and before long, we had nannies and kids in the spotting scope. 

Blair felt optimistic that the area he pointed out to me would hold lots of goats. Minutes after we rounded a bend in the valley that opened up new country, we spotted a couple of billies. After looking them over and evaluating their respective positions, we decided that I should make a stalk on the closest one. He was bedded near a steep drainage directly above us.

With the prevailing wind going down the valley, we figured the goat should remain on the upwind side. Blair remained with the horses to watch through the spotting scope, and it was game on for me. As if recognizing the predatory implications of my stalk, several wolves began howling in the valley. Blair later said he could see a black one about 900 yards above him on the ridge.

As I broke tree line, the steep, rocky terrain became more and more treacherous. It was extremely difficult not to disturb the rocks. The wind was fairly calm and I was sure that the slightest noise would alert the goat. As I closed the distance, I climbed cautiously out of the drainage. I peeked around a rock and there he was looking the opposite direction and bedded at 32 yards. I needed to get higher so I backed out and climbed up a short distance. This time, I could see his entire body still bedded and quartered away. I steadied myself on the 40-degree slope and got ready for the shot. 

He stood up, still quartering away but glaring straight at me. Blair later told me as he watched through the spotting scope, he could feel the intensity of the moment. I hurriedly settled my 30-yard pin on the goat’s vitals and released an arrow. The shot was a little left of what I intended, striking him in his left shoulder. The billy fell dead in his tracks and immediately started to roll down the mountain. He was gaining speed when I lost sight of him.