Finally, I finished it. Sorry for the wait.
I woke to the silent vibration of black nats and mosquitoes rattling my tent. They were layered in between the mesh and my rain fly, like the cream in the middle of an Oreo cookie. It was early and the dampness of the rainforest laid thick in my tent. I turned to my alarm clock, which read 3:30 a.m., and even though I felt like I just went to bed I knew it was time to get up. My body was a little soar, but my mind was trying to convince itself that it was worse. I wanted to sleep so badly, but my partner was up and the coffee was brewing. I was “slow going,” until my hunting buddy told me there were goats above camp. I thought it was one of his schemes to get me out of bed early, but I took no chance of missing my opportunity to get a glance.
The tent fly flexed as it sustained my bare body as I pushed through the door. There I was standing half naked in a rainforest watching two goats scale the cliffs above. It was go time! I threw my clothes on, downed some power aid, ate two bites of a power bar, and grabbed my bow as we went after the goats.
We cleared the first hill and came to the ridge that flattened out below the mountain the goats were on. We glassed the hill and found the two bedded below a snow patch. The fog came and went; it was a muggy day, but scenery was beautiful regardless. The hills were an electrified green color, and the fog gave the mountain a mystical feel to them. We noticed that the two goats we spotted early were legal. One was bigger than the other, but the smaller one was big enough to not to be a kid.
We waited patently for the fog to give us cover to cross the 400 yard open stretch. Finally, we played our cards right and we were in position to go full speed. We couldn’t see the goats; therefore, we figured they couldn’t see us. The mountain was steep and moreover due to the moisture we were forced to crawl up the wet vegetation. Surprisingly, we made good time scaling the hill, but the rain wasn’t helping with our footing.
On the way up, we chose a small drainage that veered off to the right. That drainage puttered out, right below the snow patch. As the immersed gully came to an end, we looked cautiously for our prey. I poked my head up like a gopher looking for danger, until I saw what we were looking for. There they were, SEVEN YARDS TO MY RIGHT! I slowly lowered my head and informed my partner about the great news. I nocked an arrow and peeked over the ledge. The goats were feeding on a small plateau that was ten yards wide. I lowered again, told my buddy we had no shot, and we would have to wait for the right situation.
Water rolled down my face and dripped down over my bow. My glove was drenched, and it was discharging a yellow die that was staining my clothes. I was beyond soaked, but my confidence felt high and dry. After a while I peeked over the ledge and noticed the two goats sparing each other. They were playing and enjoying the rain, but then suddenly, one goat turned and ran to the left.
They trotted over the boulders and presented themselves for a walking shot at 12 yards. The larger one was second, and I focused on the lungs. I drew and shot. It happened so fast, so plain, and so simple. No magical music or tricks and gadgets. It was over before my friend came to full draw with his compound. The arrow penetrated a little far back, but it angled to the far shoulder. Both goats bolted and ran toward the cliff. I was ecstatic as I slid down to tell my buddy. Luckily, he grabbed me as I slid into him or I would have kept slid down the mountain, for I was one giddy fellow. I felt confident in my shot, but I still worried about her jumping off the cliff.
The rain drizzled for the continuing 30 minutes of my wait. When the everlasting wait was up we took off and headed toward the area where she fled. We looked for blood, but the downpour washed away any red spots that would have been visible. We climbed the steep rocks and came to the top. My stomach dropped as we looked over the cliff. We were standing a safe distance from the edge, but I still felt the anxiety of possibly falling off. We glassed up and over, but no sight of either goat. So we back tracked to where we saw her last.
This area was still steep, but not as dangerous as the 500 foot drop off. I went to the right while my buddy looked down a small finger ridge. At the end of the small ridge, the goat was tucked under some bushes. I scaled up and over, and the relief of a suicidal goat was off my mind, for there she lay my 7 ½ inch nanny!
Looking back at this hunt, I feel very fortunate for shooting a goat on my first day. I have to tell you that, I’ve put a lot of time in on other hunts and ended up without an animal. On this hunt, I put a little in and ended up with a lot. For all those other attempts of empty harvest tags, this hunt paid off. It’s not always about killing an animal, but how we travel the road to get where we are going. I know we’ve all heard people preach it before, but the more I hunt, the more I enjoy experiencing the adventures of the great outdoors.
Topic: Goat Tuff (pictures (Read 2586 times)
