Evening Republican, Volume 15, Number 61, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 13 March 1911 — A Goat Hunt in Washington [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

A Goat Hunt in Washington

Djuos WFowz&zx CofyrryAt- 4k Jr/tfAAt

iT WAS a bright October morning, and the sun was rising over the 'foothills of the Cascades, spreading its glory over the beautiful Wenatchee lake, and the valleys leading to it. The vines, maples and alders in all the small canons were clothed in their gorgeous autumn colors, varying in ! hues from bright yellow io deep purple, and inlaid among the deep green of the pines and cedars, making a magnificent landscape. As we ascended the mountains we came upon a caipp of Siwash Indians, and judging from the number of buck Indians with them it appeared .certain that they would kill all the game in the hills, or drive it so far up to the summit of the mountains that a white man would not be able to get a shot. We made up our minds to go after the goats at the earliest moment, after reaching camp, which we intended to establish at a high elevation, because the mountain goat inhabits the least accessible solitudes. The North Fork of the White River runs through the camp ground, making a narrow and deep canon of several hundred feet with the most exquisite scenery, consisting of waterfalls dashing over the cliffs, and through a small meadow of stream grass and rushes. Looking up through the' canon we could see the glacier peaks from the foot of which springs the White river. Our guides, Bill and John, began gathering wood for the night, and preparing supper, while Neil, Ross, and myself, attended to the erection of the tents, and a general investigation of our surroundings. Ross and I climbed up a dizzy summit that hid our camp from the to see if we could discern any game. On reaching the top of the cliff we did not see the sign of a goat, but stood scanning the hills for half an hour. Presently we saw a white spot leap across a narrow opening between two clumps of bushes, about half a mile from us, and well up on the range to our right. Then we saw another, and still another, and then the fourth goat. While we were watching these, a herd of eight goats passed the opening, and made their way leisurely down to a slide, where they stopped and began feeding. We saw that it was up to us to plan our strategy to gain a position above them where we could begin operations. The mountain goat is extremely cautious and observing, and when pursued will never go down hill unless when wounded, when they will often hide in a clump of bushes, or in. the crevices of rocks, rather than expose themselves to punishment.^ I have often watched a goat try several times to get from one cliff to another, that were separated by a small chasm, which it could easily leap across, but rather than take a chance, it would walk for half a mile out of its way so as to reach the other side in safety. When hard pressed by hunters it will, of course, take leaps that It would not otherwise do in its moments of leisure. A goat, when pursued, will climb along shelves of rock on the walls of precipices, with apparent unconcern, walking in places that, would completely shatter the nerves of any one who attempted to follow it. We had breakfast about four o'clock the next morning, and packed our lunches, loaded up with ammunition, arranged our gunnyßactis and ropes on our pack straps, and started for the hills. We agreed that myself, with Bill, the guide, should work our

way among the crags on the other side of the sheep and secure an advantageous position above them, while Ross, Neil and John should get below them and drive them up past the posh tion I would occupy. Bill and I climbed to an almost inaccessible position among the crags, overlooking the canon, where we could see both the herd and pur companions. With John leading the way and Ross and Nell following, they made a detour and gdt below the goats, and here they began shout. The herd of live broke up into two sections, two of the animals heading for the canon that I commanded, and the other three broke off in a westerly direction, heading for a thicket of alder and willow, which offered them for the time being complete security. At this moment Bill, the guide, with Ross, made a bee line for the thicket the sheep were heading for, In the hope of intercepting them, while Nell fired his gun at the two sheep that were rapidly approaching my position. The animals were soon within range and, of course had no suspicion that I was located right above them. Taking careful aim, I singled put the leading goat and fired. I knocked him down and he fell on his side, kicking furiously. The other goat was wounded by Neil, who was in hot pursuit, and after falling to the ground, got oh its feet again, and kept on heading for the top of the canon. Signalling to Nell to go after the goat that was lying on the ground, I took another shot at my quarry and succeeded in keeling him over. As soon as Nell got up to the goat I had disabled, he put a bullet through its head, killing the animal completely. It required three more shots from my rifle to kill the hardy animal that was working its way Into safety. I signalled to Neil to to back and rejoin Ross and the

ran f<W about 20 rods and then went into a maple clump that was nearly as bad as the alder and willow brush we had crawled through early in the morning. Neil lost his hat. Then, a limb of a tree sprang back and struck my forehead, knocking me into a woodchuck’s den. When I came to .there was Mr. Goat sitting a few yards from me, chattering as if I had plundered his orchard. I took out my Colt revolver and settled his hash, as I thought At the crack of the weapon Neil came hurriedly up to see what was happening, and fell off a log he was climbing over, and skinned his elbow on a rock. In the meantime the goat hobbled up the mountainside and lay down upon a ledge of rock about 200 yards above us. The way we went up that rock slide on all fours would surprise a Siwash. We got up within about 25 yards of the rock and Mr. Goat stuck his head over the ledge as much as to ask where we came from. “Shoot him,” yelled Neil. “Shoot nothing,” said I, “I can’t shoot a flock of balloons —shoot him yourself.” At this the goat thought it was his move and hobbled off the rock, passing Neil within about six feet. Neil grabbed a handful of wool and lost his hold. He then made another lunge and stubbed his foot and fell fiat, and as he fell chanced to grab the goat’s hind leg. He was dragged for about 20 feet, yelling for help at the top of his voice. Finally the goat fell down and Neil got up, still hanging on to the leg. He managed to get his revolver out, but the goat kicked and floundered so that he could not handle both. By this had got to him and he gave me the goat’s leg to hold, and then stepped in front of the goat to get a shot at his head. Mr. Goat did not approve of that and made a lunge sideways that upset me and I was dragged about 15 feet. When I managed to get right side up I found that the goat had wedged himself between two rocks and had to stop. Here is where we killed him at last.

guide and drive the other three goats up the canon. Ross joined Neil and Bill on the edge of the thicket and together they began to climb a small ridge in front of them. “By Jove,” said Bill, “those fellows are going right into a goat if they don’t look out, and none of them seem to see him.” Bang! Bang! Crack! Ping! “Now they’ve done it,” said Bill. “Look at him go; the rockd are full of them. Great Heavens! what a mess they have stirred up. Even that goat is going; they have only crippled him. Now, look at him hiding behind that rock.” “Yes,” said I, “but Ross sees him; he has a bead on him now. Bank! He has got him.” Ross laid down his gun, took out his knife and, on reaching the goat, attempted to take hold of a horn to lift up Mr. Goat’s head and bleed him, when his quarry made a leap off the rock they were on and bounded around the other side of the cliff as though he had just woke up. “Haven’t those blamed fools got that goat killed yet?” said Bill. “Look at him go; he’ll get away sure.” The goat was making across the slide where we had seen them the uight before and was headed for a thick patch of timber. Bang! Bang! “Well, they’ve got him down again,” said I. “I guess they have got him this time, so we might as well go back to camp.” “Well, don’t be in a hurry,” said Bill, “we’re not sure yet. Where are they now? Where is the goat? That’s what’s bothering me.” “By Jingo,” said I; “there he is, heading this way.” We were so excited at the prospect of the others losing the goat that under a simultaneous Impulse we both climbed down the precipice into the canon below, and headed for the clump of brush into which we had seen the goat disappear. Here is where our troubles began, for we had to try our hand at climbing up a steep rock slide for nearly half a mile. We