I teamed up with Mel (Irish) for the last day of the hunt. Drove about a half mile up the ranch road, parked and headed up the valley. Our plan was to look for goats down low before climbing up "Angora" mountain. I made one stalk up a dry creek bed but only got close to some mamas with babies.
We made the climb and hunted toward the windmill in the far distance. Ran into Doc and JC just after Doc had hit his goat. We joined in to help with the tracking until CK appeared and said the goat was down; Mel and I then continued on toward the windmill. We snuck up to the big water tank beside the windmill for look around.
We spoted 2 goats about 150 yards away feeding along in the open. Dropped my pack and started the stalk; Mel watched from the shade of the tank. Got to within 15 yards and started to draw for a quartering away shot; goat turned and continued feeding directly away form me. I followed along, concentrating on this goat when I noticed the 2nd goat feeding off to the side about 10 yards away.
The sound of the arrow hitting the rocks startled him. As I fumbled around trying to nock another arrow he decided to leave Dodge; my 2nd arrow also found the rocks.
Upset and disappointed in myself I turned to my guide for some comforting words; this is what I saw:
It didn't take me long to join Mel; that cold water sure felt good!
It was a long hike down and I was exhausted when we got to the car. No, I didn't bring home a goat or a sheep but I've got more than enough memories to last until next year.
Thanks for letting me share this story with you.
Dave