1998 was a very exciting year! Not only did I draw a Colorado bighorn sheep tag, but a mountain goat tag as well! What a great excuse to spend the entire summer and fall hiking and scouting the high country. I viewed many sights many will never see in their lifetime. From rock ptarmigan scampering among the boulder fields to newborn kids frolicking on the alpine tundra, this was a summer I'll never forget. These photos are just a few of the many memories of my trips afield.

I learned quite a bit about goats on these treks. One of the hardest parts was distinguishing between nannies and billies. The photo on the right is of an immature 3 1/2 year old billy, while the photo below is of a mature nanny. Notice how the billy has a sleek coat, while the nanny still has last year's scraggly coat. Billies were the first to have clean coats and many of the nannies carried the "scrag" well into October. Another difference is horn confirmation. Billies have heavy horns, gradually curving to the tips, while nanny horns are thin and are straight before curving at the tips.

I drew a great goat unit! I sighted over 300 different goats through the summer. One morning 2 groups of nannies, kids, and immature billies converged totaling 73 goats! I counted as many as 125 goats in one valley alone. Billies tended to be in the higher craigs in bachelor groups of 1 to 9, while nannies were often viewed on the grassy alpine slopes. Although many of the nannies tolerated my presence, the billies were very leary. There was one group of billies we named "the 4 Spooks". At the sight of hikers, they would disappear into the most rugged cliffs in the unit. They often spooked when hikers were almost a mile away.

Opening day of hunting season found my hunting partner and I in the midst of a blizzard. It was winter in the Rockies! Time to get out the winter survival gear. Our camp was located at 9,000 feet above the ocean and there was about 8 to 10" of fresh white stuff on the ground. Could be tricky scaling the rugged cliffs the billies call home. This was the conditions Jim and I both were frightful of when we applied for the third goat season. Billy coats would be at a premium, but we might have to endure some dangerous conditions. Even with unfavorable conditions it would take a lot more than a white-out to prevent me from climbing the 12,000 foot peak where I'd viewed a monster billy the previous evening. Well, a white-out it was! In fact, I had problems standing upright on top of the peak. Tears ran down my face as the snow pelted my face. Try as I might, I could hardly see 50 yards in front of my face. I literally crawled into a small crevise while swirls and minature twisters brought snow into every crack and opening in my garments. I was mystified how goats could survive these conditions...and it was only the first of October...the worse of the winter hadn't even begun! Three hours passed and things were looking grim. I decided to head down to the truck. I virtually slid the entire 3,000 feet down the mountain and just about prounced on a covey of ptarmigan huddled in a sheltered draw. They must have had the same idea I did..take a snooze and wait for bluebird conditions. Boy were they gorgeous. With snow-white bodies and mottled wing feathers they really blending in with their surroundings. I watched and listened to their cooing and chuckling as they nestled into the snow beside the boulders. Even at 2 steps I had a tough time finding them at times.

Back at the truck I took off a couple layers, made a make-shift pillow from my coat, and dozed off to sleep. About 2 hour passed and my sleep was interrupted by a rifle blast farther down the canyon. This seemed to be lifting. Between wind gusts I could know view the opposite canyon. Just as I grabbed my binocs and started scanning the canyon, 3 yellowish tinted forms came into view on a grassy knob. Wow, 3 billy goats! Darkness was soon approaching and things were looking mighty treacherous. Time to grab the winter gear, rifle and shells, and make a mad dash up the hill. An hour later I was 400 yards below the billies. A ground blizzard made judging almost impossible as they stood just below the 12,000 foot summit. The closest goat was a 3 year old runt, the second had a magnificant coat and 9 " horns, the third was a grand-daddy with gigantic body and 9 1/2 " horns to match. A 1/2" difference in length didn't seem important once I got a glimpse of the best looking coat and bearded billy I'd ever seen. My choice was made, now time to lower the boom!

All in one smooth motion I unslung my 300 Weatherby, laid my backpack on a predetermined rock for a rest, and lowered myself to the prone position. The shot was at a 75 degree angle upward, an estimated 400 yards. I placed the duplex cross-hairs on the front shoulder and squeezed off the shot.....nothing! What the !!?? My bolt had popped open when I caught it on my pant leg and....oh sh!!??! Ok, calmly I pulled down the bolt, got a stable rest, and.....CABOOOM. With the shot, the billy crumbled in his tracks....only one thing....he didn't stop there! He rolled and slid, slid and rolled all the way to the bottom of the mountain. Luckily it was almost entirely a grass slope the 400 yards where he came to rest in a giant snowdrift on the bottom. I looked back up the mountain and the 2 other billies were still looking down at their brother. They probably were wondering what the heck kind of grass he had been eating to make him act so crazily. My billie left a trail down the mountain that looked like a bunch of inner-tubers had been frolicking on the mountain. WOW! All my dreaming was now a reality! There lie my ivory coated trophy! Jeepers, what next? Let's get a closer look! It was pretty crazy watching the billy slide almost to my feet. My first impression when I got up to him was how tiny he was...not yet! Actually, he landed in such a deep snowbank that most of his body lay hidden in the giant drift. When I dug him out he was a monster with horns to match! His coat was by far the finest of all billies I'd ever seen. He had the long snout of an older billy and rings around his horns attested 6 winters he'd spent in this vast, rugged, alpine country. This was a goat of a lifetime!

Visibility between wind gusts was now 50 to 100 yards and darkness was setting in. I had to make some drastic decisions and fast. I could hardly stand upright and the windchill had to be well under the zero mark. Just grasping a knife to skin the critter would be quite an accomplishement. In fact, I was fairly spooked about just finding my way the 2 miles back to the truck. I elected to leave the goat in the snowbak and come back in the morning. Hopefully the conditions would imporve and he'd coll quickly overnight. I reluctantly left my newly claimed prize for the safety of the truck. As I made my way through the drifting snow, the countless memories of my summer scouting treks flashed through my mind. I am certainly thankful to the might guy who created such an incredible wonderland and the ghostly, white, critters that inhabit it! Life is good!

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