The storm clouds began to gather and the wind picked up a bit. I started to make my way off the plateau, but not before I made a couple more imaginary shots with my bow then with the camera.
I found this one feeding towards a stunted juniper so I circled and made my way to see how close I could get. When I got to the juniper, the goat had changed direction, out into the open but facing away from me. The cross wind held steady so I pushed my luck from this...
To this....
Again, the goat was fortunate I just wanted a close picture.
On the way out of the rim I stumbled onto a small group feeding right at the edge of a cliff face. I slipped close again to see just how close I could get. These two were young and fairly oblivious as they munched on this bush.
But my pretend shots and then the camera was just too much movement...they bailed over the edge and another ran from behind the bush to see why his companions had vacated. I was left with another parting shot...
I came down off the mountain, just as it started to rain. There were goats still moving but I wanted to get off the top before potentially worse weather moved in. I had no desire to come down off this terrain in the rain.
Tired but elated that I had been so close so many times with multiple real shot ops. It was as good a day of stalking that I can remember.
I really don't know why I didn't take any of the shots, but for some ethereal reason, it felt right not too...and of course the hearts of all the trad bowhunters in camp understood completely. Sometimes, being there IS good enough.
I rounded out the afternoon with a few small bass caught on the flyrod while Charlie and Gary lounged by the river. It was a great day but I was tired, not just from the terrain but also from the over abundance of adrenaline throughout the day.
A great meal, a few cold Tecates and lively recounts of all the team's events rounded out the evening. I slept well that night despite my own and Rick's (the camp skinner) snoring....