'19 CO nanny goat hunt

[rmyoung1]

Oreamnos americanus and I share a complicated relationship. I love those crazy buggers, but they seem to want to kill me. Back in 2011, as a Colorado resident, I drew a G5 archery tag. The year before I had accompanied a buddy on his successful hunt deep in the Weminuche. He arrowed a nice billy on my last day in the backcountry. It was one of those amazing wilderness adventures that I will never forget. With a goat tag of my own, I hoped to relish the G5 experience, and I sought to do the trip solo. First night out I climbed forever in pursuit of two billies on the skyline. The sun set without me relocating the goats, and I reluctantly began my descent. Then the rockslide started. I bumped and bounced and rolled and eventually came to a crashing halt in the sliding shale. Right away I praised God because I knew I wasn't seriously injured, but the slide did result in a sprained ankle. A night alone on the mountain was followed the next morning by a rescue by some very capable search & rescue guys out of Silverton. And... I made it home safe and sound... with an unpunched goat tag. For the last eight years, that memory has been my most painful hunting disappointment.

 

[rmyoung1]

I've moved to Texas since drawing that initial goat tag. Obviously, the new nonresident status wasn't going to help my chances of mountain goat redemption. I decided to begin applying for the nanny only goat tags in a simple effort to head into the mountains again with a goat tag... any goat tag... in my pocket once again. And this spring... it worked! I drew a rifle nanny tag for G12. I might be dumb, but I'm not stupid. I vowed to do things differently this time, and immediately got my best friend and hunting buddy, Doug Hoak ( @Walkitoff ) and my dad on board with my new goat plans. I also contacted Snowmass Creek Outfitters to pack in my tipi, stove and other camp items into the high country where I could, with any luck, glass goats from the tipi.

Here's dad at goat camp...

 

[rmyoung1]

The first evening we glassed up goats right from camp. Perfect! Well... almost. After a 3,000-foot vertical climb from the trailhead to camp, the goats were still 2,000 feet above us. There wasn't enough daylight left to do anything other than watch them through the spotting scope and hope they'd remain in the vicinity. And the scenery was enough to keep a guy interested and thankful for his health, his good fortune, and his Creator.

 

[rmyoung1]

The next morning the same goats from the day before began feeding on the same ridge shortly after daybreak. As we discussed our options, Doug began glassing up the drainage from camp and found a nanny perched on a rock ledge not more than a half-mile from camp. And she was low. Really low. Her bed sat only about 100 vertical feet or so above our campsite. I studied her through the spotting scope and determined that she was a mature nanny. But I couldn't help feeling like things shouldn't end this quickly. A lot had to come together before the tag was punched, obviously, but I didn't necessarily want it to end so soon. After eight years of painful agony, a slow, methodical foray into goat country was the proper catharsis, I reasoned. No need to hurry. But Dad and Doug disagreed. "She's a nice nanny, and she's right there. You need to go!" they argued. Eventually, their arguments began to resonate, and I grabbed my rifle.

 

[rmyoung1]

Doug accompanied me on the stalk while Dad stayed behind at camp with the spotter fixed on the goat. After fighting through some thick alpine willows, Doug and I broke into a tiny clearing within rifle shot of the nanny. She had worked downhill off of the rock out-cropping onto a steep, grassy slope where yet another large patch of willows promised to break her fall should I execute a shot correctly. I laid my rifle over my pack and took my time, finally exerting enough pressure on the trigger. She immediately hunched up, laid down, and then rolled into the willows. And just like that, my nanny goat hunt came to an end. At first, I didn't know what to think. I was stunned that it was over so quickly, but Doug's and Dad's instincts proved to be correct. As we hiked back to camp, loaded down with goat meat, hide and horns, a relentless squall descended upon our chosen basin. For days, the wind hardly eased. And then it snowed. We saw very few goats after I pulled the trigger. The weather did improve eventually, and the outfitter returned, five days later, to haul our stuff out of the mountains. And I hiked back to the truck... this time without search & rescue.

 

[LopeHunter]

Nicely done. Kudos to you for heeding the advice of those you invited to share the adventure. I once tossed a rock at a small bull elk during archery season just 15 minutes into Day 1 because just over the hill beyond the small bull was a mature-sounding bull. Six days later I had not gotten another shot opportunity. If I had been interviewed as the small bull ran off then I would have grinned and predicted a lot of opportunity that hunt. Bird in the hand...

 

[Oak]

Congrats on the goat. You definitely made the right choice. Time spent in country like that is almost more enjoyable without the high pressure tag in your pocket.

 

[Sask hunter]

Congrats!

 

[KipCarson]

Congrats!! Good call on going after it. I personally hate the saying “never pass on the first day what you’d shoot on the last” but there are occasional times when it makes perfect sense.

 

[LCH]

Congrats on your goat! Looks like a great adventure with quality company.

 

[appaloosa]

Well done!

 

[Hawk Tuah]

Sweet goat. Congrats!

 

[Gr8bawana]

Well done, congrats.

 

[Jape]

Great redemption story! Congrats!

 

[sneakem]

The bells are gorgeous. Congrats on the goat!

 

[noharleyyet]

Well done, told, and shown....congrats.

 

[elkrchr]

Looks and sounds like a phenominal experience, especially getting to share it with your dad and best friend. Congrats!

 

[TheBenHoyle]

Glad you got your goat. Thanks for sharing the story and the excellent pictures.

 

[MT_elk]

Congrats!