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HISTORIA COMPLETA
Hunting a mountain goat had long been a dream of mine, so following the advice of Huntin’ Fool in their eMagazine, I decided to apply for an Idaho goat hunt in unit 67. Even though it was my first time ever to apply for a tag, I was among a small percentage of applicants fortunate enough to be selected. I was elated to receive notice of this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
I called Huntin’ Fool and asked for a guide recommendation. They put me in touch with an outfitter, which led to the selection of Bret Hincks of Palisades Ranch Outfitters. Shortly after receiving notice in June, I called Bret, scheduled the days for our hunt, and sent him my deposit. Bret needed to finish up guiding deer and elk hunters, so we planned the hunt for October 25-30. He advised that this timing would work out well because the goats would have their winter coats at that time.
Due to a busy work and travel schedule, I had no further contact with Bret until the week before the hunt. I reached Bret’s wife, Joanne, by phone and confirmed when and where to meet. She also mentioned that there had be an unusual amount of snowfall in the mountains for this time of year.
I showed up on Bret's doorstep on October 24th and asked him, “How are we going to do this?”
To my surprise, he said we were going to load up horses in the morning and head into the mountains for a week or so, sleeping in a camp/tent he had prepared previously. This was not at all what I had expected since I had read that goats in this unit could be spotted from the road and then stalked from there. I was expecting to sleep in a comfortable cabin. Furthermore, I had not ridden a horse since I was a teenager and for sure never into the mountains as part of a hunt. I was somewhat concerned, to say the least.
As scheduled, the next morning, Bret, Joanne, and I mounted our horses with three pack mules in tow and started our planned three-hour horseback journey into the mountains. Bret selected a horse named Jackson that he thought would be a match for my “riding skills.” As it turned out, he had a rather calm temperament and responded well to my guidance. Eventually, I was able to relax and actually enjoy the ride and surrounding landscape. The horse turned out to be a perfect match.
Since I was suffering from altitude sickness the day before, I was drinking a lot of water that morning so as to avoid another problem. About an hour and a half into our ride, I was desperate to relieve myself and was trying to figure out how to signal Bret up ahead. Suddenly, I spotted a goat perched on a cliff on the opposite side of the river about 150 yards away. The goat spotted me at the same time and stood up. I whistled to Bret and Joanne, and they stopped. Bret worked his way back to me, and I pointed out the goat up on the rocky ledge. As Bret was glassing the goat, I dismounted. However, heeding nature’s call was my highest priority at that time and it did not look like the goat was going anywhere. Eventually, I grabbed my gun and Bret summoned me to move ahead so we could get a better look and move away from the horses. Before we could get set, the goat moved up the slope, repositioned himself on a rocky outcropping, and lay down again.
We walked up the trail a bit further and set up where we could keep an eye on the goat. Over the next two hours, we sat there and evaluated the horns and strategized how to get a shot. Although we vacillated quite a bit in our assessment, we eventually determined that the horns were between 8 and 9 inches but closer to 9. Bret mentioned that since it was quite blocky and alone, he was 99% sure it was a billy. I came to realize that judging a goat is extremely difficult.
Next, we had to make a decision. Should I shoot or not shoot? Was this a good shot opportunity? Could we get to the goat to recover it? Would he tumble off a cliff if he was shot? Would we see a better goat further up the mountain? Lacking the experience to make the call, I consulted Bret. He ranged the goat at 150 yards, but it extremely uphill. However, he said the shot opportunity was makeable. He felt that we could find a way up the slope for recovery and that with a properly placed shot the goat would not take a fall, but it wasn’t certain.
Regarding the quality of the animal, I simply told Bret, “You’re the guide,” and I would follow his advice.
After a long period of silence where Bret was contemplating the gravity and consequences of his response, he finally looked me in the eye and said, “You’re the hunter!”
What? Clearly Bret was relying on his 38 years of guiding experience during which he came to recognize that a trophy is really defined by the hunter. After bantering back and forth for several minutes, we finally agreed on a plan. We didn't really have a good shot because the goat was laying down, and considering the steep angle, we could only see the neck and head. We decided to wait for the goat to stand up and then we'd quickly confirm our assessment of the goat's quality. If a good opportunity was presented, I'd make the shot.
So the wait began. We took a seat and got set for the shot. Two hours later, our goat hadn't budged. It was cold and had been raining off and on. Eventually, we grew a little impatient. Bret decided to whistle and see if the goat would stand up. He let out a blast but failed to cause the desired reaction. However, the whistle did summon Joanne who was tending to the horses during our watch. She came over and asked us what we wanted. We showed her the goat and advised her of our plan. She said it looked good but it was up to me. After 40 years of marriage, it's no wonder Bret and Joanne would think alike.
Undeterred by the goat’s lack of response, Bret decided to reposition himself further down the trail and whistle again. Meanwhile, Joanne decided to move to a better vantage point. At the same time, the wind whipped up and it started to rain and sleet hard. Suddenly our goat stood up. With the guide some distance away and Joanne off in the trees, I was left on my own. Now was the moment of truth and the hunter had to make a decision.
I could hear Joanne whisper advice to me in the distance, “Squeeze the trigger!” I
worked the calculus in my mind and a felt certain this was a decent billy. I recalled where Bret had told me to aim, settled the crosshairs, and gently increased the pressure on the trigger. As the sound of the gun echoed up and down the river, the goat tipped over without even taking a step. I had my Idaho goat down.
We all reassembled, exchanged high fives, and made a plan to head up the mountain and retrieve my goat. We used the horses to cross the river and then proceeded on foot up a steep drainage. Eventually, we made it to where the goat was laying. We were surprised to see that the goat had been sleeping on a perch the size of a sheet of plywood that dropped off steeply on three sides. We were extremely thankful the goat had fallen in its tracks.
We taped the horns at 9.5” and remarked that there was no ground shrinkage. Indeed, we had harvested a decent goat. We took numerous photos, skinned the goat for a full body mount, quartered the meat, and loaded up for the pack out. We reached the horses and then the mules and prepared for the ride back down the mountains as happy hunter and guides. My entire goat hunting experience had lasted just six hours. I managed to sleep in a warm cabin that night after all.
The next morning, I met Bret and Joanne for breakfast. Bret had a concerned look on his face and was eager to tell me something. Apparently, he awoke in the middle of the night concerned that he did not recall removing the goat's package when he was skinning it out. He had roused himself out of bed and took a look at the hide. As he looked at me sheepishly, he told me my billy was in fact a nanny. That's when I reminded him of the 99% sure proclamation he made on the mountain. He replied, "I guess she's in the 1%."
What I have come to know about goat hunting is that it involves long odds and small percentages. The chance of obtaining a tag is well below 1%, and the chance of accurately assessing the sex apparently has a 1% uncertainty. Nonetheless, a trophy is really defined by the hunter. I am extremely satisfied with the experience and the Idaho goat that will eventually grace my trophy room wall. It is a trophy nanny that will forever be known as the 1% goat.
My thanks to Bret and Joanne for their kind hospitality throughout a most memorable hunt
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